Page 93 of Deadly Betrayal
Khalid prayed to Allah that he wasn’t,because that would mean Azita was in the camp as well. She wasimpetuous and infuriating, and she’d left him at the fuelingstation to escape with the American and her brother. She made himangry. She made him crazy. So crazy that he still wanted to marryher if they survived this ordeal.
He should not have made the pact with Tariq.The man was an animal and could not be trusted. Khalid’s greed, hislust for power, his blind desire to be Afghanistan’s savior had ledhim to put his entire family in danger. Faroukh would hate him forwhat he’d done to Laila and Freba, to Uncle Afrooz.
To Azita.
In his own way, Faroukh had cared for hissecond wife. Khalid rested his elbows on the table at which he satand cradled his head in his hands. Somehow, he had to call off thewedding and get Laila and her mother away from Tariq. But how? Noone knew he’d come here. His only hope was to renegotiate his dealwith Tariq.
But before that, he would demand to see hisfamily. If Tariq had harmed so much as a hair on his niece’s head,Khalid would spend the rest of his days making the warlord pay.Assuming, of course, that Tariq let him live. Something that wasvery much in question.
Chapter 22
Tariq sat with his brother, Ishaq, going overthe details for the next day’s wedding. The men needed acelebration, something to help them forget the hardship that wastheir life. And he’d give it to them. The day would be memorable,not so much for the wife he was taking, although Laila was a littlegem, but for the deal he was sealing.
He couldn’t run for the presidency himself;his past was too tarnished. But once Khalid took office, Tariqwould hold all the power. He’d let the man think he was saving thecountry with his ideas of controlling natural resources andallocating mining rights to Afghan companies. Keeping Afghanistan’sriches in Afghanistan was a worthy goal, but minerals and preciousstones were not where true power lay.
The West didn’t want lapis lazuli for theirwives’ necklaces, or even lithium for their batteries. What theywanted most was an energy source. The proposed TAPI natural gaspipeline would run from the gas fields of Turkmenistan throughAfghanistan and then into Pakistan and India. Yearly estimates forincome in transit fees alone ran around four hundred million USdollars. But more importantly, several compressors would be builtalong the way.
If Tariq was not satisfied with the outcomeof any deals with Afghanistan’s neighbors or with Western countriesdependent on the pipeline, he could cut off their supply byshutting down the compressors. Without even realizing it, theidiots had turned over control of their energy source to him. Armedwith that weapon, he’d be invincible.
“Khan Tariq, I am sorry to interrupt,”Rangeen said. His nephew looked tired and more nervous than usual.The American’s stamina for torture had impressed them all.
“What is it?”
“Agha Khalid is demanding to see you and hisfamily members.”
Tariq wanted to laugh at the man’s audacity.Surely he had figured out he was a prisoner. However, with thewedding only a day away, Tariq could afford to be generous. “BringLailakhanomand her mother to me as well as Agha Afrooz.We’ll pay our guest a visit together.”
After the guard left, Ishaq set down hisglass and leaned forward, his expression intent. “Do you think he’sfigured out his fiancée and the American are here as well?”
Tariq shifted and ran a finger over the lipof the glass of tea Dagar had brought earlier along with a tray ofsnacks. “No, but something is off. Our men say the woman, herbrother, and the American were in the black vehicle, which we knowbelongs to Agha Khalid. He was several hours behind them, drivingan old Corolla.”
“They stole it from him.”
“That’s my guess. But was he trying to stoptheir interference, or was he trying to get his fiancée back?”Tariq laughed, enjoying the bit of intrigue. “You’ve seen theAmerican. Many women would sell their firstborn for a man likethat.”
Ishaq selected a date from the tray andquickly polished it off, depositing the pit on a piece of oldnewspaper. “Perhaps she is a runaway. If he calls the authorities,she could be arrested for adultery.”
“And stoned to death.” Tariq fingered hisbeard. The soothing action always helped him think. “If I recallcorrectly, a few years back, Agha Khalid had another fiancée whowas stoned.”
Eyes widening, Ishaq rubbed a hand over hismouth. “He wouldn’t want a repeat. The moderates would take it as asign of his fundamentalism.”
The brothers looked at each other andgrinned. Tariq clapped Ishaq on the back. “Thank you, my brother.This is perfect ammunition.”
Fine dust rained down onto his face. Kadensqueezed his lids shut and pinched his lips. Unfortunately, hecouldn’t do the same with his nose. Grit filled his nostrils,clogging his lungs. His eyes began to tear up and his body strainedto get enough air. Any small movement caused pain to stab his chestand right side. He attempted to roll over, but couldn’t. It was asthough his body had been sapped of all its strength and energy.
Suddenly, Azita was poised over him,shielding him from the onslaught. “Stop it!” she yelled. Kaden’shead swam. Disoriented, he looked around through his watery eyes.Where were they? Had they been caught in a sandstorm? Although he’dexperienced more than a few during his tours, he hadn’t thought onepossible this far in the mountains.
Azita rolled him to his side. Pain slicedthrough him and black dots filled his view. She massaged his back,her hands moving in a steady rhythm from his waist to his neck. Hisbody convulsed in a fit of coughing. Dirt and phlegm spewed out ofhis mouth and nose. Using a bit of cloth, she wiped it off andhelped him onto his back.
Once he calmed down, he was able to get hisbearings. Memories came crashing back, and he remembered where theywere. In the hole. Shit. He’d awakened from one nightmare only tobe plunged into another.
With a loud screech, someone opened the grid.A guard peered in and spoke in rapid Pashto. The only word Kadencould grasp was “water.” As though awakened by the sound of itsname, thirst clawed at him until he knew he’d die if he didn’t getat least one sip right now. Azita and the guard exchanged a fewmore words, but Kaden’s entire being was focused on the canteen theguard had dropped into their cell. It was the one the village boyhad given him.
“Safe?” he asked. As thirsty as he was, theywould never escape Tariq’s prison if he had to battle a case ofdysentery in addition to all his other injuries.
“The guard filled it with bottled water.”
Ignoring the pain in his ribs, Kadenstruggled to sit when Azita brought the canteen to his lips, herarm supporting his head. The cool liquid felt like the best elixirin the world as it slid down his throat, his parched body absorbingevery drop instantly. Or so it seemed.
