Degree of Risk

by Lindsay McKenna

  “I’ll do what I can,” Sarah growled, trying to walk on the leg.

  “May Allah bless you.”

  She placed weight on the leg. Sarah was surprised how strong it was beneath her but she wasn’t going to let anyone know. Let them think she was a bird with a broken wing. It might play to her advantage at another time.

  Sarah held on to the doctor’s shoulder and he walked very slowly with her. In the main cave, she noticed a much larger dark blue Persian carpet had been laid out across the dirt floor. There was a small throne fashioned out of wood and Khogani was sitting moodily on it, scowling in their direction. The servants were whispering back and forth like shadows, bringing out plates and bowls of food. The spices filled the air and she was suddenly starving. There were sumptuous satin pillows sitting in specific spots. Dr. Anas led her to the one opposite Khogani. He helped her to sit down.

  “Try to cross your legs slowly, Chief Benson,” he bid. “I think if you can, you will be quite comfortable.”

  Nodding, Sarah tried it. She made enough faces of pain as she worked the left leg in front of the raised cushions. She could feel Khogani’s black eyes following her every move. Her heart began to beat harder, the past overlaying the present.

  Dr. Anas took the cushions to the right of her. He bowed grandly to Khogani and then with a gesture from him, Anas sat down, arranging his spotless white robe. Sarah could have liked the doctor if he wasn’t part of Khogani’s murdering group.

  “Good evening, Chief Benson,” Mustafa said silkily, suddenly sitting up, resting his hands on his clean, dark brown trousers. “You look better. Are you?”

  “I am,” Sarah said. Khogani had cleaned and washed his hair. It hung in black ropes around his shoulders. He, too, wore a clean white shirt. He had a red vest over it. Sarah wondered if the red meant he was going to get aggressive. She often saw the colors people wore meant something. When Bill wore a red shirt, she knew he was on the hunt for one of the three girls. If he wore blue, it was a day he left them alone. If he wore black, Sarah ran straight to the closet and hid.

  “Did my servant bring you enough water to wash your hair earlier?” he inquired solicitously.

  “Yes,” Sarah said. It had been a relief to get the dirt and crud out of her hair. She had wrapped her wet hair earlier into a ponytail. She felt Khogani manipulating her. God knew she could pick up on a person’s intentions as if she had a kind of radar for them. One of the major PTSD symptoms she’d developed, thanks to Bill.

  “Am I not a gracious host, Chief Benson?”

  Sarah met and held his narrowing eyes. She shivered inwardly and forced her voice to remain neutral. “Yes, you have been.”

  “You may refer to me as ‘my Lord.’ I am the chief of the Hill tribe.”

  It stuck in her craw and she avoided his smiling, ruthless face. “Yes…my lord.”

  Khogani nodded. “Better, Chief. I was hoping you would be civil.”

  Civil hell. I’d like to slit your throat, you son of a bitch.

  Sarah said nothing, keeping her face utterly neutral. That was the way she’d survived Bill. Say nothing. Keep her voice low. Never look him in the eyes because it became a challenge to him. Always agree with him. Make no move to displease him or he’d take it out on her. Khogani was the very same.

  “Before we have dinner tonight, Chief, I want to give you a surprise.”

  God. No. Sarah met his gaze. “Yes, my lord?” She might as well be compliant. So far, Khogani, who carried a wicked-looking curved knife in a jeweled sheath at his side, hadn’t started to reach for it. It would mean he was coming for her if he did.

  Mustafa beamed and clapped his hands. Instantly, two servants ran out of the room.

  Sarah looked toward the secondary cavern opening. In a few minutes, a small boy of about six was led by his small hand into the room. Her heart started to pound. She knew this was the boy Khogani had set his sights on. The child was slender, his face round, his soft brown eyes huge with fright. He, too, wore a white robe, was clean, his hair cut and shaped like a bowl around his head. Sarah wanted to do something…anything…and all she could do was sit quietly.

  Khogani intently watched her and seemed irritated by her lack of emotion. He gave the servants orders to take the boy over to her.

  “Chief Benson, I would like you to meet Jamaal. Is he not sweet-looking boy?” he cooed softly, smiling at the child.

  Sarah saw the child looking anxiously toward Khogani. She understood the raw fear in the boy’s eyes. The child sensed he was a predator, someone who could hurt him. The servants stopped and gently pushed the child toward her. The boy was trembling. He feared Khogani, as if sensing he was stalking him. He was. Sarah reached out, touching the child’s small hand.

  “Jamaal?” she said in stilted Pashto, “sit with me? I am Sarah.”

  The child did not hesitate. He was frightened, alone, kidnapped and without his family. Quickly, he came and climbed into her lap.

  Surprised, Sarah felt the boy’s thin ribs beneath his robe. He was shaking and he turned his head into her breast, trying to hide from Khogani’s intent gaze. Her arms came around him and she automatically whispered in Pashto that he was safe. Rocking him a little, the boy clung to her as if he was going to be swept away in a coming tidal wave. Sarah could feel the child was terrified and she gently moved her hand across his silky hair in an effort to calm him.

  “How touching,” Khogani murmured. “Even in uniform, you are a mother.” He gave her an interested look.

  Her heart clenched with that untranslatable look he gave her. It froze her soul. Did he want her instead of the child? He was toying with her, trying to keep her off balance. “My lord, no matter what one’s religion, children are sacred,” Sarah said in a husky tone.

  Anas chimed in enthusiastically, “That is true, Chief Benson. Very true! The Koran tells us to respect and love our wives and children.”

  Mustafa sneered at them and snapped his fingers. Instantly, servants bearing jugs of water whispered swiftly into the cave. “Come, let us eat. You will be given a plate for Jamaal. He must eat to keep up his strength.” He smiled slyly as a plate was handed to him by another servant.

  Sarah decided to focus on the boy. She leaned down, the steaming mutton in a bowl close enough to reach. A servant very quickly came to her side. All she had to do was point and he put the food she wanted on the plate for the boy. Jamaal stopped trembling. She could feel him begin to relax in her arms.

  Looking down, she smiled tenderly and asked, “Will you eat with me, Jamaal?” She saw him nod, wiping his very tired eyes. She wondered when he had been kidnapped, what kind of traumatic journey the poor child had undergone.

  The servant handed her the plate. Sarah took it in her right hand and held it down so Jamaal could see what food was on it. She knew the villages of Afghanistan and this had to be the biggest feast the child had ever seen. His small, delicate hand reached out and he chose a dried fig.

  “You have magic,” Khogani crowed. “We’ve had him for three days and he’s eaten nothing.” He beamed at her.

  Yeah you sick bastard, this child knows I’m not going to hunt him down.

  “I love children, my lord.” Well, that wasn’t a lie.

  “And do you have any?”

  She hesitated. “No, I do not, my lord.”

  “You cannot tell me men do not follow you around as if you were a bitch in heat?”

  Raising her head, her eyes hard, Sarah smiled. “My passion is in flying.”

  Khogani was scooping rice into his mouth with his right hand, the plate held close. Rice grains were dropping all over his beard and into his lap.

  “And you were flying that Black Hawk two days ago, were you not, Chief?” he demanded. He’d stopped eating to watch her.

  Sarah nodded. “Yes.”

  “And were you the pilot or copilot?”

  “The pilot.” She offered Jamaal a second fig and he eagerly took it.

  “Humph. So it was
you.” He grinned a little, taking a shank leg of mutton and tearing off a piece between his yellowed teeth. “You are a very skilled pilot. We thought the Stinger missile would blow you out of the sky.”

  Sarah refused to respond. She kept her attention on the boy. He was clean. She could smell the scent of jasmine around him. Is this what Khogani did? Steal a child, wash him, perfume him and put a clean robe on him before he… Her throat tightened with rage. She had to keep the anger out of her eyes or Khogani would see it. And she sensed he could suddenly erupt into violence over the slightest word or look.

  “You know,” he drawled, between bites, “it was my second-in-command, Jawaad, who shot that Stinger missile at your helicopter.” He grinned, wiping his greasy mouth with the back of his sleeve.

  Sarah continued to feed the boy. She could feel Khogani’s interest. He waited for her to say something.

  “Nothing to say?” he prodded, glaring at her across the rug.

  She lifted her gaze. “What is there to say, my lord? You shot us down.”

  Sitting back, he snorted. “You are a cool one, Chief, I’ll give you that.”

  She wanted to put him off balance. “I have questions for you, my lord. May I ask them?”

  He smiled, suddenly preening. “Of course, Chief.”

  “Where did you learn to speak such flawless English?”

  “My parents sent me to a Pakistani university. They urge all our family line to learn English. I already knew Pashto and French.”

  “You speak it very well,” she complimented. Bill liked compliments. He’d puffed up in just the same way. “You use some American slang. Did you ever go to America?”

  “No. I wouldn’t step foot on the Great Satan’s territory.”

  Sarah heard the grit in his voice, felt his hatred like invisible waves slamming into her. Jamaal straightened up, his eyes were clear and he was excited. He took scraps of meat and ate with relish from her plate. His large brown eyes drifted up to hers. Sarah smiled sweetly down at him, thinking how beautiful a child he was. And how much trouble he was in.

  “I’m impressed you speak so many languages, my lord.”

  “Why?” he growled. “Because I am Taliban? That my people are classified as third world and are therefore idiots?”

  Sarah scrambled. She didn’t want Khogani getting upset. “No, my lord. That is not why I gave you the compliment. In America, very few people know more than one language.”

  He snorted violently, throwing a meat bone toward some awaiting servants. They quickly scattered like a frightened flock of birds. As soon as the bone bounced and landed, they quickly flew back and picked it up and ran out of the cave. “You Americans are not only stupid, you think you are the greatest nation on Earth!” He slammed his fist down on the chair’s arm. “You are pigs!” he spat.

  Muslims did not eat pork, Sarah knew. So, calling someone pig was like calling someone a bastard. Or worse. Sarah kept her face neutral. “You have a great tribe, my lord. It is well-known even in America.”

  “That’s nothing to crow about, is it?” he muttered defiantly, picking up some dates and jamming them into his mouth. He ate and glowered at her. “I do not like your questions, Chief Benson.”

  “My apologies, my lord,” she said, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “I will ask the questions, whore.”

  Tensing inwardly, Sarah focused on Jamaal. He reached for a wooden cup that contained water. She felt as if she was giving the child his last meal and it made her crazy inside. Leaning over, she picked up the cup. The child drank thirstily. When he was done, she took the cup and set it aside.

  “What? You do not respond to the word whore?” Khogani needled, smiling darkly. “Is that because you are one, Chief? American women do nothing but lay around with men who follow them like lackeys.”

  She refused to answer, feeling Khogani’s building anger. Sarah knew at some point, he’d explode. And what then? Would he take the boy out of her arms? Strike her? Take that knife and slit her throat because he didn’t like her answers? Sarah knew he was unbalanced and violent.

  “The man who is going to pay me one million dollars for you has many plans for you.” He smiled coldly.

  Ice wound through her. “I am no man’s slave, my lord.”

  Laughing, Mustafa said, “That is the answer I expected!” He suddenly stopped smiling. “Tomorrow at dawn, we will mount up and I will take you across the Pakistani border. It is only three miles away.”

  Terror began working through her. Sarah focused on Jamaal who now ravenously ate a date between his small hands.

  “This man likes his women with fire.” Rubbing his hands together, he added, “And I assured him that when your leg wound healed, you would be a fighter. He likes women who fight back. He enjoys taming them. Making them fear him.”

  Nausea welled up in her throat. Sarah picked up the wooden cup and drank some of the water, praying the surge of nausea would go back down. Her breathing was uneven. She was scared. But she didn’t dare let this monster know it. As soon as he smelled her fright, he’d mercilessly stalk her, preying on her.

  “I am a military person and under the laws of the Geneva convention—”

  “Bah!” Khogani shouted, curling his fist on the arm of the chair. “Do you think I abide by those stupid rules?” He jabbed his finger down at the cave floor. “This is my territory! The Hill tribe has owned this area for thousands of years! We follow our own laws.”

  “No man owns me,” Sarah said coolly, staring him in the eyes. “And no man ever will.”

  Khogani howled with laughter, slapping his thigh repeatedly. And when he finished howling, he snarled, “Woman, you are less valued than a good horse, a lowly goat or a donkey! Allah created you to bear our sons and strengthen the might of our tribe by giving us strong, strapping sons. That is all.”

  Sarah felt shaky inside, rage rising. This sick monster was crazed, his eyes looking like Bill’s, excited by this connection with her, making her react. Sarah had to hold it together. She had to or this boy in her arms would pay the price of her inability to rein in her emotions. “Tell me something, are you married, Lord Khogani?”

  “Of course I am!” he snapped. He made a huge gesture with his arm and six servants converged out of nowhere to pick up all the plates and bowls of food.

  “And how many children do you have?” Sarah was trying to maneuver him. Would it work?

  He stroked his beard, assessing her. “I have five strong sons and two daughters.”

  She wondered if he touched his own children inappropriately. Sarah bet he didn’t since he had his choice of children from his raids in the Hill tribe territory. “And have you sent them to school, my lord?”

  Leaning back as the servant filled his cup with water, he said, “Of course, I have. One day, when I am dead, my oldest son, Sattar, will become chieftain.”

  “And is he here? With you?”

  Khogani shook his head, drinking deeply from the water cup. “My oldest son graduates from the university next spring.”

  “And will he then ride with you?”

  “Of course,” Mustafa said proudly, smiling a little. He lifted the cup in her direction. “Does not the child in your arm have the most beautiful deer eyes? So large and wide?”

  Freezing inwardly, Sarah saw his focus on the child mounting. Jamaal was sleepy after eating such a large meal. Sarah’s arm automatically tightened around him as he lay his head against her breast, closing his eyes. “He is a beautiful child, my lord. Like all children.”

  “I like that look of innocence…”

  Nausea stalked Sarah. She had so much rage, she felt it ready to implode in the center of her body. Her adrenaline was surging. What was he going to do? Take the child, anyway? Go back on his word if she cooperated with him?

  Khogani’s gaze lifted to her. “And, Chief, what if I were to take you instead of him?”

  Her mouth thinned. “Then I would fight you.”

  He seemed to
evaluate her, then tipped his head toward Anas. “What do you think, good doctor? The boy or the Chief?”

  Sarah saw the physician flinch. She already knew what he would say. Anas wanted to protect the child above all else. Would she make a different choice if she were in his shoes? No.

  “Perhaps a change in diet is useful, my lord?” Anas said, his voice shaking with emotion. He couldn’t look at Sarah.

  “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Mustafa murmured. “I must ask myself if she is going to fight me. After all, she has no weapons on her. She would be an easy catch.”

  Sarah sat still. He didn’t know she had a black belt in karate, either, and, by God, she’d use it if he tried to rape her. No man was ever going to rape her again. She’d die fighting him.

  “Perhaps I will have my bedroom cave guarded by two guards. They can watch me chase and catch her? Throw her down on my bed of silks, rip her clothes off?”

  Anas’s brow popped out in beads of sweat. He was wringing his hands, a sign he was emotionally upset. “My lord, the child is sacred. You have heard me say that many times to you. You promised to spare little Jamaal if Chief Benson would be civil to you. And she has been civil toward you.”

  Puckering his lips in thought, Khogani watched Sarah. “I must think and weigh this, Anas. I have an al Qaeda officer who is willing to pay me a million dollars for her. He knows she is not a virgin. No American woman is. But I wonder, if I soil her, will he know it?”

  Anas dropped his head to his chest, his eyes closed.

  Sarah felt a surge of rage nearly leap out of her mouth. They talked about her as if she were a piece of meat to be passed among them. No feelings, no say in the process. Jamaal stirred against her, his face burrowing deeper in sleep. Maybe, if he did choose her, she would find an opportunity to grab his knife. Or, use one of the guards she was sure he’d have present. Grab an AK-47? Shoot all of them? And then what? The other soldiers would hear the gunfire and come running. She’d have no idea how to escape out of this cave system.