The Devil's Due (The Blackwell Files Book 5) Page 6

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was turning my car around at the end of a street when I saw her walking along the road,” said Ghoyee. “She was wearing a burka, so I decided to wait a moment and observe. When she entered her house, I could see through the window. She took off the burka, and that’s when I saw what a prize she would be for us.”

  “Very good. Study the routine of the girl and her family. Identify the times when she is alone. Once you have done this, report back to me.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The next day, Alton and Mallory conducted their teleconference with the US embassy in Kabul, then spent the rest of the day exploring more of their temporary tropical home, venturing beyond the borders of their resort into the unspoiled land beyond. They hiked along a trail at the foot of the island’s central volcano, snaking around its base on a path lined with palm trees, ferns, and bamboo.

  During their hike, Alton received a text from Fahima, stating David had embraced her proposal to let Mastana stay with them until her permanent place of residence could be established.

  “Well, that’s a load off my mind,” he told Mallory.

  “Definitely. I’d have been surprised if they had said no, though.”

  “Me, too. But it’s still nice to have their actual answer.”

  Back in the bungalow, at an hour he judged to be dinner time in Kabul, Alton sat on the side of his bed and phoned Kamaal.

  After trading small talk for a minute, Alton broached the reason for his call. “Remember how Mallory and I had our teleconference with the US Embassy this morning? I wanted to follow up with you on the outcome.”

  “Just a minute,” said Kamaal. “Let me get Mastana.”

  Alton waited for a moment, then Kamaal said, “Okay—we are both here.”

  “Hello, Alton,” said Mastana. “I am happy to hear your voice.”

  “And I’m happy to hear yours. Did Kamaal tell you why I’m calling?”

  “Yes, and now I am so wondering what you will tell me.”

  “Don’t worry. I have good news. Based on the suicide mission your uncle wanted you to perform, and your status as a minor with no other relatives to care for you, the Embassy staff has already started processing your application to immigrate to the US as a political refugee. They’ve already gotten the green light from Homeland Security. Your visa isn’t official yet since your application still has to be approved by the ambassador. But the staffer we spoke with said it’s virtually certain you’ll be approved.”

  “Oh, that is wonderful!” said Mastana. “So I will really go to the United States?”

  “Yep—that’s the plan. I’ll be your sponsor, and part of my role is lining up a temporary place for you to stay until we’ve identified a permanent guardian.”

  Mastana’s voice became a little more subdued. “Do you know where I will stay? Will it be near you and Mallory?”

  “I have some good news to share on that topic, too. How would you like to stay with David and Fahima Dunlow?”

  “With Fahima? The same Fahima who talks to me all the time after you leave Kabul?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You are not joking, Alton? I will be sad if you are teasing me.”

  Alton suppressed a laugh. “I would never tease about something this important. I asked Fahima and David, and they said they’d be happy to take you in.”

  Mastana said nothing in reply.

  “You may need to wait a minute,” said Kamaal in a kindly voice. “She is too happy with this news to speak.”

  “No worries,” said Alton. “Mastana, to answer your other question, Mallory and I live just a few minutes from David and Fahima, so you’ll be able to see us all the time.”

  “Thank you. I am so happy!” The teen paused for a moment. “Wait, you said ‘Mallory and I.’ Are you finally married?”

  “We sure are. In fact, we’re on our honeymoon right now.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you at such a time, but I am happy that I will see all of you—all of my friends from Camp Eggers! And Fahima!”

  “Yes, it’s worked out pretty well.”

  “Alton,” said Kamaal, “what are the next steps?”

  “The embassy will work on her application. Once it’s officially approved, they’ll start scheduling flights and will work out the details of Mastana’s travel to David and Fahima’s house in the US. They said it would take about a week. Are you okay with Mastana staying with you until then?”

  “Of course.”

  “It is like a dream,” said Mastana. “A few days ago, my uncle was trying to kill me, and I had no one to help me. Now, I will be in a new, safe country with my friends. I will miss Afghanistan, but I have nowhere to go here.”

  “I’m glad it’s worked out,” said Mallory. “I think you’ll enjoy living with Fahima and David. They talk about you regularly.”

  After wrapping up the call, Alton turned to Mallory in satisfaction. “That went well. Mastana is happy, and we can get back to our honeymoon.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Mallory, snuggling next to her husband. “I’m all about happy endings.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Divband addressed a gathering of recent Brotherhood converts seated in a circle inside the main ceremonial chamber. The flickering of several dozen smoky candles cast erratic shadows on the stone walls and encircling stone pillars.

  “And so it is written that we enter into a covenant with Iblis. We give him that which he desires—brides in the afterlife—and in turn he shares his powers with the faithful. As we have been taught since childhood, Iblis guards his power jealously. He provides it only to those who agree to meet his needs. So while the sacrifice of young lives may at first seem tragic, we know that it serves a greater good, for ourselves and our country.”

  The group members nodded in mute agreement.

  Divband wrapped up the meeting, and the zealots filed out. Ghoyee waited in the chamber until only he and his master remained.

  “Yes?” asked Divband.

  “I have spent the last week tracking the movements of the new bride.”

  “And do you perceive a pattern to her movements?”

  “Yes. She remains in the home almost all the time. When she leaves the house, she always wears a burka. But once inside, she removes it.”

  “She is not in school?”

  “No—not this week, at least.”

  “I wonder if her father is Taliban. That would explain her absence from school.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is she often alone?”

  “Yes,” said Ghoyee, warming to the subject. “Her father is gone every day until seven o’clock. She is alone until then.”

  “No other family members?”

  “Not that I have seen.”

  Divband considered the matter. “The time for the next wedding ceremony grows near, which means the number of brides will decline. Take Meskin and collect the girl. We mustn’t interrupt the flow of Iblis’ power to his believers.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Alton and Mallory relaxed on the wooden patio of their bungalow, enjoying the late-afternoon breeze. A flock of ring-billed gulls drifted overhead, and bright sunshine sparkled off the aqua waters of the lagoon. Somewhere down the beach, a couple played in the surf. Alton rested his hand atop Mallory’s, enjoying the beauty of both his wife and the tropical location.

  He took a sip of a fruity tropical drink—what was it called again? A Lavaflow?—and set it back on the small table at his side. As he did so, his cellphone rang. He answered it and spent most of the next fifteen minutes listening, only occasionally asking a question or two.

  “That was the US Embassy. They approved Mastana’s application.”

  “Thank goodness! She’ll be relieved to hear that.”

  “Tell me about it. They apologized for the delay and said they’ll start making arrangements for Mastana to fly to the States next week. They also said that since she’s a minor, we’ll have to do
another round of paperwork once she arrives in Washington to register me as her guardian.”

  “That seems easy enough. I was beginning to wonder if we’d hear from the Embassy before we left here.”

  “Me, too. But I’ve been e-mailing Mastana all week. She seems to be happy, so I wasn’t too worried about the delay. After all, we are talking about the government. ‘Hurry up and wait,’ right?”

  “Ha—true! I wish I could be there when Mastana finds out the news.”

  “Me, too. We’ll see her soon enough, though.”

  He fell into silence, and Mallory studied him for a moment.

  “What ‘cha thinking about?” she asked.

  “Just really pleased how this has worked out—for Mastana’s sake. I was also thinking about how history sometimes repeats itself.”

  “How so?”

  “Mastana and I seem to be following the same kind of path—from barely escaping death in an Afghanistan bomb blast to experiencing a better life back in the US. I just hope the US portion of her journey turns out to be as good as mine has been.”

  Mallory squeezed his hand. “I hope so, too.”

  “I imagine changing countries and cultures might be difficult, but Mastana’s already proven how resilient she is. Plus, she’ll be with Fahima. I have a feeling she’ll be all right.” Alton broke out of his reverie and glanced at his watch. “It’s pretty late in Kabul now. I’ll send Kamaal a text to let him know the latest.”

  Alton thumbed the message, asking the interpreter to share the news with Mastana.

  “Well, that’s settled. One more week, and Mastana will start her new life in the US.”

  CHAPTER 19

  In the seven days since coming under Kamaal’s protection, Mastana had settled into something of a routine. Once Kamaal left for work at Camp Eggers, she would use his laptop to check her e-mail for any messages from Alton. Most days, she would send him a brief update as well. That finished, she would set about deep-cleaning a different room in the house. Following that activity, she would write in her journal any thoughts that entered her mind—the day’s events, her feelings of gratitude, her wonder and trepidation at starting life again in a new country.

  As dinnertime approached, she would begin preparing the evening meal, aiming to have it ready by the time Kamaal returned from work around seven o’clock.

  As she prepared the meal this day, the one-week anniversary of escaping Uncle’s clutches, she heard the side door open as always.

  “Hello, Kamaal,” she sang out. “You are a little early today. I don’t have dinner ready quite yet.”

  She stepped around the corner to greet her benefactor but stopped dead in her tracks. A strange man with a grimy turban and malevolent grin stood just inside the door.

  “Who are you?” asked Mastana.

  “It doesn’t matter who I am. My master would very much like to meet you.”

  Mastana turned and bolted towards the home’s front entrance. Rounding the corner, she pulled up as the door trembled under a terrific blow. As she stepped backwards, the door crashed inwards, and a giant of a man entered. “Hello, little one.”

  Mastana turned and fled down the hallway, toward the bedrooms at the back of the house.

  The first man gave chase, cackling as he went.

  Mastana grabbed a rectangular picture frame off the wall and snapped it like a Frisbee towards her pursuer. The man instinctively turned his head, but the frame caught him on the corner of his eye, whipping his head backwards.

  “Bitch!” he snarled as he put a hand to the wound.

  “Come now,” said the hulking man to his companion. “That’s no way to talk to a future bride of Iblis.”

  “Easy for you to say. She didn’t peg your eye.” Blood dripped down the man’s cheek. He charged again, his earlier lascivious look transformed into one of fury.

  Mastana noticed the man kept his wounded eye closed. She leaned to his blind side and launched a punishing kick to his groin, sending her attacker to the floor, gasping for breath.

  The giant’s smile faded. He cracked his knuckles as he advanced down the hallway towards her.

  Mastana scrambled into her bedroom, slamming the door shut and turning the lock on the knob. She prayed the door would delay the attacker long enough to afford her escape through the bedroom window.

  She raced to the window and tugged it with all her strength. Years of rust had sealed it as tight as a prison door. She grabbed the blanket off the bed and wound it around her hand. With her fist protected, she punched through the window’s glass and knocked off a few lingering shards. As she removed the blanket and threw it on the bed, the door flew inwards with a resounding crash.

  Mastana jumped towards the window’s opening. She made it halfway through the gap before an iron fist closed around her ankle. She kicked with her free leg, eliciting a curse from the man as she connected with one of his limbs.

  The enormous man grabbed her other leg and pulled her backwards with seemingly no effort. He caught her before she could fall on the floor and twisted an arm behind her back. “I can’t damage you. Divband wouldn’t be pleased. But keep struggling, and I promise I’ll hurt you in ways he’ll never see.”

  The man removed a soaked rag from his rear pants pocket and held it over Mastana’s mouth and nose. Within seconds, the room began to spin, and the world tipped to the left at an impossible angle. She dropped to one knee, unable to stand, while the light began to fade. With the sound of her abductor’s cruel laughter providing a diabolical soundtrack, Mastana slipped into unconsciousness.

  CHAPTER 20

  Alton and Mallory stepped off the Jetway into Washington’s Dulles Airport.

  “Now back to reality,” said Alton.

  “Don’t remind me,” said Mallory. “But it’s okay. That was the perfect honeymoon.” She squeezed her husband’s arm.

  “We’ll have to send your mom some ‘thank-you’ flowers,” said Alton.

  “Yeah, we should. She’d appreciate that.”

  As they drove home from the airport, Alton checked his voice mail, his first opportunity since leaving Los Angeles International Airport six hours earlier. “I got a message from the Embassy in Kabul. They want to set up some time for an in-person meeting with Mastana and Kamaal to cover the next steps and travel logistics.”

  “Wonderful! You’ll have to let them know.”

  He continued listening. “I also got a call from Kamaal.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “Just for me to call him. I hope everything’s all right. He sounded stressed.” Alton checked his watch. “It’s a little late there, but not too bad. I’ll call him now.”

  After dialing, he switched the call over to his Explorer’s Bluetooth system.

  “Hello?”

  “Kamaal, it’s Alton. I got your voice mail message.”

  “Alton, I have…some bad news.”

  Alton glanced at Mallory. “What’s up?”

  “I came home from work a few hours ago. Mastana is not here.”

  “What? Where is she?”

  “I do not know. There was a great struggle here. The front door and a bedroom door were kicked in. There is a picture frame smashed in the hall and blood on the floor near it. And in the back bedroom, Mastana’s bedroom, all the glass is broken out of the window.”

  “Dammit! So someone came for her.”

  “Yes—all the signs suggest this.”

  “Alton!” Mallory gripped Alton’s closest arm, wide-eyed.

  Alton fought to clear his mind of a surge of alarm, knowing he would need to stay calm if he was to help his young friend. “Was Mastana’s bedroom door the one broken in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could she have escaped through her bedroom window while the assailant was breaking down her door?”

  “It is possible. But if this is so, why has she not called me? Or you?”

  “True. It doesn’t look good, does it?”

  “I am afraid no
t. Oh, and here is something else. I looked in my backyard outside the broken window. The glass is all over the place, but none of it is pressed down into the soil as if someone had stood on it. So, I do not think anyone went through that window.”

  “Kamaal,” said Mallory, “do you think Al-Qaeda was involved?”

  “It must be. Perhaps Mastana’s uncle was able to track her down.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, too,” said Alton. “But how?”

  “I don’t know, but I am worried for Mastana if she is his prisoner.”

  “Have you contacted the police?” asked Mallory.

  “Yes,” said Kamaal with a sigh. “There is little they will do.”

  “What!” said Alton. “Did you tell them about all the evidence of a struggle?”

  “Yes, they think perhaps she got into a fight with a boyfriend. They said maybe she was upset after the fight and went off to be alone for a while.”

  “We know that’s not what happened,” said Mallory. “How long will she have to be gone before they take it seriously?”

  “I do not know. The police say there is no verified crime. Plus, you know how they are in my country. They don’t worry about women as much as men. If a man is a victim of a crime, the police will look into it. But if it’s a woman, they don’t do so much…even when they do know a crime happened.”

  From his experience serving in Afghanistan, Alton knew the interpreter’s words to be true. “So now what? We just wait for the police to decide to do something at some point—if ever?”

  “I do not know.” Kamaal sounded discouraged. “I am hoping you will have a good idea.”

  Alton felt the burden of responsibility descend upon his shoulders. After all, he had guided Mastana to Kamaal’s house, the location from which she had been kidnapped. More importantly, he owed a debt of gratitude to the resilient teen, back from his days in Afghanistan. “Let me tell David and Fahima what’s happened. We’ll put our heads together, and I’ll get back with you in your morning. Will that work?”

  “Yes, thank you. In the meantime, I will ask my neighbors down the street if they saw or heard anything.”