Where was Jessica? He needed her to translate. But could he trust her to translate? If he told her about the smuggler, would she wish to flee Mosul also or report him to ISIS? The acidic taste of indecision burned his throat. He looked left and right.
The Yazidi woman walked into the room with a baby on her hip, but her wide eyes didn’t light with understanding.
With a hard gulp, he swallowed down the indecision and thrust away the nagging feeling in his gut. He could trust Jessica. She’d helped him save that child’s life last night, after all. If he didn’t take her with him, then she’d die in Mosul along with the rest of ISIS, which would be awful. “Jessica,” he yelled.
No answer. They didn’t have much time. He ran down the hall shoving doors open.
The bathroom door flung open at his kick. Jessica huddled against the bathroom vanity, a guilty expression on her face.
A long object covered in some kind of burka-thing leaned against the towel rack. Jessica stepped in front of the object, hiding it with her body. “I’ll be right there, husband.”
He was so not her husband. “What is that?” The feeling of indecision didn’t just nag now, it roared. Maybe she was an ISIS spy. Pushing Jessica aside, he yanked the black fabric. It slithered to the ground, revealing the tall, thin object. He stopped in his tracks.
“Where did you get that?” Kaleb pointed to the metal barrel of the AK-47 that reflected the bathroom’s light.
Jessica grabbed for the gun.
Lunging forward, he ripped it from her hands before this ISIS recruit could murder him.
Jessica fell back to the covered bathroom window. Wind blew the curtain against her loose hair. She bit her thumb nail, guilt written all over her face. “I . . . Al-Khansaa gave it to me.”
“Al-Khansaa gave you a weapon?” Kaleb raised one eyebrow as he ran his gaze over the woman’s face. As much as he’d like to believe her, that answer simply wasn’t plausible. Al-Khansaa beat the populace and beheaded them. They didn’t arm aforesaid populace.
“I worked for Al-Khansaa all this last year before I married you.” Jessica’s words stumbled over each other. Sweat poured from her forehead and her arms trembled. “I was the first one to greet your sister when she joined the caliphate. I escorted her to her wedding.”
“You worked for Al-Khansaa?” His jaw gaped. All this time, he’d been sharing a roof with an ISIS soldier. He’d almost trusted Jessica with all their lives by telling her about the smuggler. She would have gone right to the emir and had him, Ava, and the Yazidi woman and her children killed. Jessica was a spy, and a #### good one at that.
A scalpel slit through his trapezoid muscles. How well she played the innocent. He’d even felt sorry for her.
“Yes. I swear Al-Khansaa gave me this gun. I did not steal it!” Jessica’s knees knocked beneath her shorts and her hands trembled, but he’d not fall for her downtrodden female act again. She was ISIS.
Had she already told the emir about how he aided civilians with stolen medical supplies last night? Even now were ISIS soldiers minutes away from his door?
He slung the AK-47 over his shoulder. He’d prefer his M16, but this rifle was better than no weapon. His watch ticked, showing only sixty more minutes until the smuggler’s departure. He needed Jessica out of here. Kaleb spread his feet. “I divorce you.” One time.
Jessica froze halfway between the commode and the shower curtain. Her eyes wide, her mouth dropped open. A moan came from her lips.
“Go back to your Al-Khansaa friends because I’m divorcing you.” Two times.
Behind him, a rustling noise sounded. The little girl who Jessica had brought with her shrieked. He’d still take Fatima to the smuggler, of course. Get her out of this hell-hole.
“No.” Jessica’s lips barely moved as she extended both hands toward him. “Please don’t say it a third time!”
“You’re divorced, okay? I keep the AK-47. You leave.” Turning on his heel, he pointed out of the bathroom to the front door. Expel the woman from your house, the fatwa had said, and the divorce will be complete.
“Please don’t do this.” Jessica cried out. She clenched the window sill in a death grip.
Why did she care? Al-Khansaa certainly had many other targets for her to spy on. He stabbed his finger at the door. “Leave.”
Face ashen, Jessica knelt and grabbed her black robes. The veil slid down over her red-gold hair as she pushed her arms through the robe’s sleeves.
Beep. A text popped onto his phone.
Stepping outside of the bathroom, he moved into his bedroom and slammed the door shut so Jessica couldn’t see his phone. Keeping a good hold on the rifle in case she got any murderous ideas worthy of an Al-Khansaa recruit, he yanked up the text. It was from Joe. This is the smuggler’s number. He’s worked with coalition forces for years. You can trust him.
Good. Shoving his cell in his pocket, Kaleb grabbed the door handle. He’d call the smuggler as soon as he got the Al-Khansaa spy out of his house. A veiled Jessica stood in the dining room eyeing the door.
“Leave,” he said, and since she didn’t comply and the smuggler’s departure time was rapidly approaching, he yanked open the door himself and expelled her through it in true fatwa style.
An ear-piercing shriek came from the backyard. A weapon discharged outside.
What the ####? He sprinted through the open door around to the back of the house.
The Yazidi woman stood in the pebbly soil screaming. Half a dozen ISIS soldiers surrounded her. One grabbed the woman’s oldest boy around the middle. The five-year-old kicked the soldier in the groin.
Amidst the soldiers stood the translator, who apparently thought kidnapping small children was more part of his job description than say, translating in the hospital so the non-Arabic-speaking doctor knew what the heck he was treating civilians for. Before ISIS expelled all the civilians, that is. “What’s going on?” Kaleb yelled.
“You’re supposed to be at the hospital tending to the mujahideen.” The translator glared at him through the hazy dust.
Right. Kaleb’s boots imprinted in the dust as his watch ticked closer to the smuggler’s departure time. “I was, um,” not getting a snack, because it was a Ramadan fast day. Also, did the AK-47 he had slung over his back look suspicious? Perspiration squirted from his brow, but then inspiration hit. He raised his right hand high. “Praying to Allah, peace be upon him.”
“You say peace be upon him after a prophet’s name, not after the name of Allah the Most Holy.” The translator groaned and pointed to the leaning minaret that one could see from everywhere in this city. “Also, you pray at the hunchback mosque. Only women pray in the house.”
“Okay.” Kaleb ran his tongue over his dry lips. Still didn’t explain why the soldiers had grabbed the boy and the Yazidi mom was screaming. “Why are you in my yard?”
The translator drew himself tall and snorted through his thin nose. “We are here to take this slave boy to join the cubs of the caliphate and learn how to wage holy war for Allah.”
They wanted to make a five-year-old kid a terrorist? Kaleb stared as the inhumanity of it sunk in. They’d train this child to learn to shoot and kill his own people.
The Yazidi mom started wailing in gibberish and wringing her hands. The ISIS soldier turned away, the boy clamped under his arm.
“No.” Running forward, Kaleb grabbed the soldier’s arm. “You can’t have him.”
The other ISIS soldiers swiveled toward Kaleb, weapons in their hands. The translator crossed skinny arms. “Every man is needed. He will be a cub of the caliphate and bring great honor to Allah.”
“I refuse.” Kaleb laid his hand on his gun.
“We have need of more suicide bombers. You will not deny Allah.” The translator gestured to the soldier. The man cuffed the flailing boy across the face and walked on. The other soldiers leveled their weapons and blocked Kaleb’s path. The child screamed.
‘You gave me the kid as a slave. I get to mak
e all the choices in what happens to him. Isn’t that how slavery works?”
“Well.” The translator shuffled his feet. “Allah’s will is higher.”
“You read me Allah’s sura about whatever ‘thy right hand possesseth.’ Well, my right hand is keeping the kid right here, comprehende?” Right hand on the AK-47, Kaleb stabbed his left-hand finger toward the departing boy.
“Fine.” The translator turned and yelled for the soldier. He dropped the kid. Blood ran from the boy’s nose as he sprinted back through the soldiers and guns into his mother’s arms. The Yazidi woman clasped the boy to her chest as her tears fell through the eye holes in her face veil onto the child’s cheeks.
The translator spat on the dirt. “The emir idolizes you, but the rest of us are not so convinced of your devotion to Allah’s cause. Now get to the hospital.”
“Of course. I’ll get my medical supplies and see you there.” Kaleb dropped his hand from the gun. Luckily for him, he’d be long gone before they missed him. He glanced at his watch. Only a half hour left until the rendezvous with the smuggler! He needed to hurry and get Ava.
As the ISIS soldiers departed from the yard, he motioned to the Yazidi woman. “Come.” He scooped up two of her wandering children. Another shadow moved around the corner of the house. Jessica, the ISIS spy, stood there, veiled in black.
He didn’t have time for this. He raised his voice. “I said leave.”
“You saved the boy.” Admiration shone in Jessica’s eyes.
Kaleb snorted. “You work for Al-Khansaa. I’m surprised you didn’t recruit the boy yourself for the cubs of the caliphate,” aka brutalizing children.
“I could never wish to see a mother parted from her child.” Jessica cast her gaze down, only her eyes visible beneath the face veil. “I did not mean to anger you with Al-Khansaa. I thought Umm Sultan told you. Please don’t divorce me.”
“You’re divorced. I thought I only had to say it three times, not a hundred.” He stabbed his finger at the street. He had to get her out of here and meet the smuggler.
The black cloth framed Jessica’s face, so dark against the brightness of her green eyes. She stepped closer, and her voice just barely carried through the fabric covering her mouth. “I know you’re working with coalition forces.”
Kaleb stumbled back. His pulse raced. He grasped the AK-47. “Who have you told?” Jessica may have already called ISIS soldiers to arrest him. He whirled toward the street. He needed to save Ava!
“I said nothing. I would never betray you.” Reaching out, Jessica touched his shoulder.
“I’m supposed to believe you?” He stared into her green eyes as he fingered the trigger of the rifle. “You’re a terrorist.”
She held up one gloved hand. “My loyalty is only to you.”
A pretty speech, but she was a terrorist. He narrowed his eyes.
“Will you leave Mosul then with your sister? Is that why you came to ISIS?” Jessica stepped closer. The hem of her robes brushed his boots.
His heart rate increased. She had enough information to get him killed.
“Bring me with you, please.” Jessica turned a pleading gaze up to him. “I can help you. I patrolled all these streets as Al-Khansaa.”
Could he trust her? His watch ticked forward another minute. Honestly, at this point, his only options were shoot her or bring her with him. “Okay, we’ll do this together. But if you double cross me, I’ll kill you.” Not sure he could actually follow through on that threat as a doctor who’d sworn to preserve human life. But he had to threaten something. He was placing his life in a terrorist’s hand.
Jessica’s green eyes grew wide. “I’ve lived here three years. You think I don’t want to escape?”
CHAPTER 17
The Yazidi boy on his shoulders and another child under his arm, Kaleb raced toward the meeting point.
True to his word, the smuggler stood underneath an overhang of concrete. He smelled of smoke. As they sprinted closer, the smuggler pulled his greasy hat further down over the scar on his forehead.
Ring. Kaleb dug into his back pocket and hit Answer.
“Are you out of the city yet?” Joe’s tone was rushed.
“No. I still have to get Ava.” Kaleb gestured to Jessica. He needed to get her to ask the smuggler in Arabic to delay his departure for another hour. Raja the Pedophile’s house was on the opposite side of the city.
“Leave now.” Joe’s hurried words raced over each other. “There’s an airstrike coming in fifteen minutes. Let me talk to the smuggler.”
Kaleb hit Speaker. “I need to get my sister first.”
“There’s no more time. Get out of there now.” Switching to Arabic, Joe said something to the smuggler.
The smuggler nodded and replied in Arabic.
“Delay the airstrike. I’m getting my sister out.” Kaleb’s voice rose. He swung the Yazidi child down to the concrete. He needed to get Ava now.
“The airstrike was approved way above my pay grade. We’re trying to save a city of millions and coalition forces have taken brutal casualties all week. I’m sorry, but these air strikes affect a lot more lives than just your sister’s.” With a click, Joe ended the call.
Kaleb swung his gaze to the smuggler. “We’ll go out a different way then. I can be back here with my sister in a half hour.” Did the man even speak English? His airways tightened as his breathing rate increased. Joe was CIA. If he said any delay was lethal, he was right.
“No, no.” The smuggler shook his head. He grabbed one of the kids from the Yazidi woman. “There no other way. Now we go.”
Sweat poured down Kaleb’s forehead. “Go then, quickly. I’ll stay in Mosul.” There would be another opportunity to get Ava out. There had to be. He didn’t intend to die in Mosul. Kaleb swallowed hard. The sun glinted off the tall warehouses all around him, which could become his grave in not so many more days.
“Okay.” The smuggler motioned to the Yazidi woman and Jessica.
A mortar exploded to the South. Kaleb picked up the Yazidi toddler and handed her to Fatima. The skinny girl clutched the child as she fell in line behind the smuggler.
Jessica hung back from the crowd of children. The wind blew at her face veil, revealing a tiny sliver of skin.
“Go quickly.” Kaleb flicked his hand toward the smuggler’s departing back.
“No.”
“What?” He turned to her. A single strand of Jessica’s hair escaped her veil, red against the black that enshrouded her body. The hot air whipped her robe against her legs.
“You don’t speak Arabic and you couldn’t even find Ava’s house last time. You need me. I’m staying.”
The wind whipped down the tunnel between them, carrying the insanity of her words along with it. He pointed to the smuggler, who hadn’t yet disappeared from sight. “Ava and I may very well die here. You realize that?”
Taking a swift step closer, Jessica circled her gloved fingers around his. “I’m staying with you, husband.”
He was so not her husband, but she was probably right about needing her help to save Ava. “Thank you.” His voice sounded hoarse. This woman was risking her life to aid him and his sister. “Let’s go get Ava.”
This time he had a gun and he wasn’t leaving his sister in Raja the Pedophile’s house a moment longer.
Light exploded in the sky. The sound of ISIS mortars combined with gunshots. A buzzing noise sounded overhead. Fire rippled through the sky. The building above them shook.
The top floor crumbled. A concrete slab cracked against the earth not ten feet in front of them.
“Run,” Kaleb screamed and grabbed the hand of the woman who’d just agreed to risk her life to help him. Who did that?
They ducked in and out of abandoned streets as more buzzing sounded. Airstrikes exploded in every direction.
“We’re not going to make it across the city,” Jessica yelled above the noise.
As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she was right. H
is heart dropped. For today, Ava would stay with the terrorist. “Quick, back to the house.”
Light poles fell in front of them, cracking against broken street pavement. The impact blast of explosives blew garbage cans and children’s toys through the air. An ISIS police siren sounded in the distance, but otherwise the streets lay empty, not even a car daring to venture outside in ISIS occupied Mosul.
They raced through back alleys as blazes of light lit the horizon in every direction and smoke obscured the sun. Bullets rattled not too many yards away from them. Something exploded.
Flying debris smacked Jessica in the face. She stumbled over her black robes. Throwing her arm over his shoulder, he helped her on. Their house rose up above the haze of smoke.
Thrusting the key in the lock, he stumbled inside with her. Jessica reached up and tore the veils off her face. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she panted for oxygen.
The walls of the house shook. China plates jostled in a curio cabinet. Head tucked between her knees, Jessica trembled.
With a slam, Kaleb shoved the door shut, blocking the ever-increasing wind, and crossed to her. Above them, the noise of airstrikes began to fade, but still Jessica shivered on the tiles. The poor woman. What all had she endured these last three years in ISIS?
Kaleb slid to a seat beside her and pulled the girl toward him. Her red-gold hair fell in waves onto his legs as he held her tight against his chest. She burrowed her face in his shoulder and clasped the cotton fabric of his scrubs. A bomb exploded somewhere to the north, accented by the deep rumble of semi-automatics.
Was anyone comforting his little sister in this bombardment? He had to get Ava out. Pulling away from him, Jessica stood. Though explosions still sounded on every side of the house, she held her shoulders out straight, face composed.
He rested the AK-47 over his knees and rubbed his shoulder where the gun strap had blistered into his skin. The house seemed so empty now. Jessica bustled around, cleaning up things as industriously as if they’d actually stay in this house long-term.
Her hair swung around her hips as she rounded the kitchen door, a cloth in her hand. She reached for the AK-47. “I need to finish cleaning the gun. I was only halfway through when you found me in the bathroom.”
Veiled by Choice (Radical Book 3) Page 13
