Beyond The Limit

by Lindsay McKenna

  Taking a steadying breath, Cali focused on the meeting ahead and walked at Major Trayhern’s side to Hesam’s home. Her nerves were taut. Would Hesam forgive the Marine?

  “AH, DATES…AND FROM Qatar,” Hesam said, sitting among several huge pillows in the audience room. “Indeed, this is a gift worthy of a king.” He smiled and nodded deferentially to the Marine, who sat to his right. “Thank you, my friend.” As he set the box aside, his smiling wife, Ladan, entered with a tray of hot tea and sweetmeats for all of them. When she had left, Hesam turned to Cali. “I see you are his interpreter for the day?”

  Cali nodded and sipped her tea. “I am, my lord. With your permission.”

  “But of course.” Hesam turned to Pete. “And where is the beady-eyed Ahmed today? Sick?”

  Squelching a laugh, Cali set her tea in front of her and translated the statement and question to Pete. She saw the major gulp, catch himself and then try to maintain a serious demeanor.

  “No, my lord. He had other business I wanted him to attend to this morning.” Pete didn’t want to drag Ahmed into this meeting. It was his problem to solve and not one he wanted to share with the sheik. “Ms. Roland volunteered to take his place for today.”

  Hesam nodded sagely and sipped his tea, his gaze sliding to the American woman. “Ahh, I see.” He studied Cali. “You speak almost as a native, my dear friend.”

  Cali knew that when a sheik called one “friend” it was a good sign. “Thank you, my lord. That is a high compliment.”

  “Tell me, would Pete be offended if I offered my sixteen-year-old nephew, Javad, as his translator?” Hesam asked her. “Javad is a bright young lad who took English courses in Kabul since he was a boy. He knows your language well. My nephew’s parents were killed by the Taliban.” Hesam frowned and sipped his tea. “My sister and her husband were murdered by them. He was their only son….”

  Cali saw the banked rage in Hesam’s eyes. There was no question in her mind that he hated the Taliban. “I’m sorry for your loss, my lord.”

  With a wave of his hand, the sheik said, “Thank you. You must know that Javad has lost a leg. He stepped on a land mine outside Kabul shortly after the death of his parents. It ended his schooling. He was sent back here to me for his recovery, but he is bored because he’s such a bright lad. I feel Javad could reclaim his confidence by working beside the major. My nephew is smart, willing to work hard and will not lie.”

  Cali nodded and passed on the information. Even though the major had not told the sheik the truth about Ahmed, the warload had adroitly summed up the problem. She instantly saw Pete’s expression grow sad as she explained Javad’s situation and condition. Clearly, the major wore his emotions on his face, and that once again surprised her.

  Cali saw Hesam watching Pete out of the corner of his eyes as he sampled a date from Qatar.

  “Let me clear your suggestion with Mr. Elliot,” Pete told the sheik. “My boss must approve it.” In fact, Pete could see a lot of advantages to having a family member of Hesam’s on the site in that capacity. But first they had to decide what to do about Ahmed.

  “Excellent,” Hesam said, finishing his tea. He dipped his hands in warm, lemon-scented water in a beaten silver bowl. Taking a white linen towel to dry them, he said in English, “Major Trayhern, I know a great deal of your language, as you can tell.”

  Stunned, Pete raised his brows. The sheik spoke flawless English. Pete saw Cali press her hand across her mouth. Was she hiding a smile? She had suspected the man had an excellent command of their language, and she’d been right. “Yes, sir, you do.” Pete realized to his horror that the warlord had heard Ahmed suggest he was a pig.

  “Frankly, this was a test.” Hesam gave him a studied look. “I wanted to see if you were honorable or not, Major. Clearly, Ahmed is not the translator you want. I would advise you to look more deeply into this brigand’s background. He may not be who you think he is.”

  “Yes, sir, I will….” The sheik grasped the problem and Pete was relieved to realize Hesam wasn’t holding him responsible for Ahmed’s poor performance.

  “My nephew, Javad, is of the highest moral fiber. You can trust him, Major. He will not lie, cheat or steal. The men I will give you to work on your project respect my nephew. He is young, but he has a good heart.” Hesam touched his barrel chest with a bejeweled hand. “And equally important, he will translate your words faithfully, treat you with the utmost respect and keep you apprised of all important protocols between us.” He smiled slightly. “And of course, I will decree that the men in my villages nearest to your project come for employment.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, my lord,” Pete said. More relief funneled through him and a huge, invisible rock seemed to slide off his shoulders. Without Hesam’s men, the construction could not move forward.

  The sheik was looking at him, bearded chin slightly tilted, his eyes gleaming. “I’m grateful for your help,” Pete said.

  “I see your arrival, Major, as a blessing from Allah,” Hesam said, raising his hands toward the ceiling, his voice husky with emotion. “For too long, the Taliban have tried to wreck our country. They subjugated our women, who are as strong as our men. They stopped them from being educated. I fought for their rights then as I do now. This power plant is a dream coming true for all our people of the northern provinces.” His thick, black brows drew downward. “That is not to say the Taliban don’t bite at our heels. They do. You are putting the power plant near the slopes of the Kush Mountains, where they can ride down from the hills and attack you. Do you realize that?”

  “I was warned about that by my boss, my lord. I was hoping to get your experience and counsel on what to do about the Taliban. I know they are less active up here because your men chase them out of the villages.”

  Hesam popped another date into his mouth and chewed. “The Taliban want to see us fail here. In the last decade, I have worked to get rid of all fanatics who hide their allegiance from me. At night, they ride away to the mountains, meet others and then come down to attack the Americans.” He shrugged. “I have been relentless in my pursuit of ridding such individuals, but there are still Taliban members around. In the Kush Mountains above this plain there are villages that still fester with the enemies of our people. They use the caves to meet and hide in. My territory extends only so far. Another sheik has tribal power over the mountain people, not I. But I have been able to broker an agreement with him to chase Taliban out of my province. He, too, dislikes the Taliban and does all he can to get rid of them.” Shrugging, Hesam added, “The Taliban are like cockroaches. You can kill individuals, but they continue to multiply, and you are never quite rid of them as you would like.”

  “It appears to be an ongoing problem,” Pete agreed somberly.

  Hesam brightened. “Democracy is what I and others want for our country.” He swept his hand around the room. “The northern province tribe leaders show others what is possible. And I, for one, am your protector, Major. You can count on my men. They will not steal from you. They will put in a full day’s work without complaint. They are not shirkers. So long as you pay them fairly and don’t treat them as dumb animals of burden, I will be grateful.”

  Nodding, Pete said, “My lord, I am authorized to pay them a good wage. They will be respected. I know that they must pray six times daily, and they will be allowed to do so. I plan two shifts of workers, if you approve.”

  Pensive, Hesam glanced at Cali. “And does all this meet with your approval as well, my friend?”

  “My lord, I represent the construction company that works for Major Trayhern. He’s my boss. If he tells you that your men will be fairly paid and he needs two shifts, I believe that. I’m sure he will respect your traditions where your people are concerned. We all want to see Afghanistan get back on her feet, and her people enjoy good jobs at fair wages.”

  “Excellent,” Hesam murmured. “Then we are in agreement.” He reached out and patted each of them on the shoulder. “Come, now that we
have completed our business, I want to show you my racing camels. They are the best in Afghanistan!”

  As Cali rose, after Hesam had gotten to his feet, she looked across at Pete. He seemed as if the weight of the world had just been removed from his broad shoulders. She understood how important it was to have the sheik’s blessing. Without the influential warlord, the area would be like lawless Dodge City without a sheriff or posse around to keep the tentative peace. Her heart beat a little harder as she tried to rein in her sudden, inexplicable joy. She quickly told Hesam that Pete’s introductory gift would be presented to him as soon as it arrived. Hesam glowed.

  For a fleeting second, vulnerability appeared in the major’s face, and it touched Cali’s heart. Rubbing her brow, she turned and followed the men out of the room.

  She and Major Trayhern would have two years of working together. Two years of hell? And what would heaven be like?

  Cali snorted softly to herself. Whatever loneliness she felt, she had to live with. She should stop looking for the major to become a friend—or more.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE NEXT MORNING WAS clear, cool and crisp. Cali wore a dark green, goose-down jacket to shield her from the biting breeze that flowed off the Kush range just before the sun rose over the jagged, snow-covered peaks. She made it to Pete’s trailer and stepped inside. As she moved toward the office, she wasn’t prepared for the sight of Ahmed screaming at Pete, who’d been studying site drawings spread out across the table. The Afghan’s face was livid and he was waving his arms like windmills. She nearly dropped her mug of coffee as she hesitated near the entryway, feeling like an interloper.

  “You cannot send me back to Kabul, Major! I am a good interpreter! I did everything right! You are letting a mere woman fill your head with lies!” He glared down at Pete. “You would rather listen to her than to me, a man? Women are nothing! They are slaves to serve us!”

  Annoyance surged through Cali. She saw Pete’s gaze turn stormy as he stood to confront the upset interpreter. Ahmed’s face was frozen with hatred.

  Cali realized neither man was aware of her presence. Shutting the door with more force than necessary, she saw Ahmed jump, as if shot, and whirl around. His mouth dropped open when he realized she was standing there.

  “You!” he screamed, shaking his finger at her. “You have lied to the major! I am a good interpreter! You do not know what you say, woman! You have no business being here on a man’s construction site! You belong at home, tending your babies!”

  Cali lifted her chin, her fingers curling a little more tightly around the handle of the mug. “Ahmed, you’re way out of line. Settle down. Screaming, yelling and making stupid charges like that isn’t going to help anyone.”

  His thick black brows drew down and his eyes became slits. Nostrils flaring, he switched to Pashto. “You spawn of the devil! How dare you tell me anything! You are nothing but a worthless woman! You have no rights here as far as I’m concerned!”

  Before Cali could answer, Pete came around the planning desk and stood between them. His body radiated tension. “What did he just say to you, Ms. Roland?” he demanded tightly.

  Cali translated. She saw the Marine’s face go very still. She was seeing the construction supervisor now, not the man. Ahmed was much shorter than him, and Pete leaned down and snarled into his face, “You’re fired, Ahmed. You will not insult anyone who works for me. Particularly Ms. Roland. Sheik Hesam said the same thing she did—that you did a poor job of interpreting for me. Your services are terminated, mister. Leave right now. Go over to accounting and pick up your last paycheck.”

  Cali moved aside as Ahmed backed off. He cursed in Pashto, whirled and stormed toward the door.

  “I will get even with you, woman!” he growled at Cali. “Count the days! I will take my revenge upon you!”

  “Go back to Kabul, Ahmed,” Cali answered in Pashto.

  Pete winced as the interpreter slammed the door behind him. He glanced over at Cali, who took a sip of her steaming coffee.

  “A helluva start to our day,” he muttered. “I’m sorry he said those things to you. I’ll dispatch a report on Ahmed to Mr. Elliot today.”

  “I’m assuming you told Elliot about Ahmed’s inaccuracies yesterday?”

  “Yes, he called late last night. Apparently Ahmed comes from a very rich family…” Pete shrugged. “You know how this political and family stuff works over here.”

  “I do. The rich get favors all the time. The poor never get a break.”

  “Ahmed will make out just fine in Kabul,” Pete said darkly. He was glad to have the backing of Kerwin Elliot, but didn’t share that with her. “Javad will take over as of today.”

  When he had the chance to clear his head of this most recent unpleasantness, Pete noticed how beautiful Cali looked this morning. Construction fashion didn’t change much. Jeans, a long-sleeved white cotton blouse, a pink tank top beneath it and rough-out boots were the uniform of the day, every day. Still, Cali’s cheeks were ruddy from the chill, her red hair pleasantly mussed beneath the white hard hat she wore. Those same small pearl earrings were in place. Maybe it was the dark green jacket she just unzipped that brought out the sultry color of her large, intelligent eyes.

  He had to stop looking at her like that. In any case, her grim expression warned him off.

  “Did Ahmed come to see you or did you call him in?” Cali asked.

  Snorting, Pete went over to the coffee station and poured himself his second cup of the day. “I called him in to give him his release. The moment I told him his work was unacceptable he flew into a rage. That’s when you came in. I hadn’t got a chance to tell him he was fired.”

  Cali moved away from the major. He was too close for comfort. Her personal comfort. Last night she’d dreamed of Russ again. It was a dream filled with rage against him—his lies, his deceit. She wasn’t in a good mood, as a result. Having to spend time with Trayhern was enough of a trial. To be in the same office with him was always a stress on her.

  Worry gleaming in his eyes. Pete sat down at the planning desk, coffee in hand.

  “The guy’s a fanatic, Major,” Cali murmured. Wrapping her hands around her own mug, she added, “I’ve occasionally run into men like Ahmed on other Middle East projects. There’s a part of the Islamic belief system that is extreme, and he follows it. They think women should be barefoot, pregnant and at home. That, and out in public, women should be hidden from head to toe behind a black chadri.” Cali grimaced. “The Ahmeds of the world regard women as little more than animals, and in fact, I’ve seen times when a camel, horse or goat was treated better than the wife of one of these fanatics. It’s shameful and degrading.”

  Pete wanted to tell Cali to call him by his first name, not “Major.” But no way could he go there. Better to stay formal, so that an automatic distance remained between them. “You handled yourself well,” he murmured between sips. Seeing anger in her green eyes, he added, “Good thing you aren’t easily intimidated.”

  “As the site project engineer I’m the last person to be intimidated. The tradespeople working under me need to be assured I’m no shrinking violet in the line of fire. I’ve taken the heat in the kitchen plenty of times and lived to tell about it.” The only thing Cali couldn’t stand was deception. Even though Pete was totally off-limits, she wondered if the major ever lied to women.

  “That’s true. You handled the situation with Ahmed very well.” Pete hoped she had the steel in her veins necessary to run this site. Cali was a strong, confident woman, but did she have the stamina for this project? He wanted her to succeed.

  Wanted her, period. The truth was Cali hadn’t given any signals that she was interested in him. Pete should have felt relief, but being so close to her made him squirm. Remember the past, Trayhern. There’s no room in your heart for a woman right now.

  “Thanks.” What did the major expect? Cali wondered. For her to break down in tears? To wither beneath Ahmed’s vitriolic attack? Being site supervisor
was a royal battle more often then not. In fact, she’d rather have Major Trayhern as an enemy than a friend, she decided. He was too easy to like. So far, Cali hadn’t caught him in a lie. Not yet. She had a bad history of men lying to her to get what they wanted, however. Toby, a classmate of hers in sixth grade, had talked her out of two of her valentine cookies with a story about his sick mother and taking them home to her. Cali learned later that his mom was fine and not ill at all. Toby had taunted her for weeks after that, for believing his lies. It got no better in junior high, when Cali’s trusting nature had led to more embarrassing situations. And then there was Russ Turner….

  “While you’re here, I’d like an update on the fence building,” Pete stated.

  “We’re working to get back on schedule,” Cali said, holding his narrowed gazed. She finished her coffee. If he only knew the rough-and-tumble construction men she’d had to stand toe-to-toe with over the years, he probably wouldn’t give her that doubtful look. As if she couldn’t do the job.

  “I expect a full report.”

  Offended by his tone, Cali did her best to keep her voice cool. “The fencing material arrived yesterday. Sheik Hesam sent over ten pickup trucks filled with workers to our site this morning. I’ve had Ray take them to the payroll trailer to sign them up and give them their marching orders. We plan to start crews on roads, security and fence building—” she looked at her watch “—in less than an hour. I anticipate that by noon, that fencing will start going up.”

  “We’re already two days behind schedule,” Pete reminded her, looking down at his scheduling book to make the point.

  Anger simmered briefly in Cali. “I’m going to see what I can do to speed up the process.” If she’d thought Trayhern was going to be a pushover, she was wrong. Already, Cali could see that she was looking through rose-colored glasses at this guy. Hadn’t she learned her lesson already? A sense of failure, deep and painful, flowed through her.