“Hi!” She knew better than to get her hopes up that he’d be able to contact her, but hope was a funny thing—sometimes it just wouldn’t quit.
“Hey, baby.” God, she loved him so much. “I only have a minute, but I needed to hear your voice.”
“How are you?” Luna had a million questions, but she shelved them for now.
“I’m good, knowing you’re safe.” Someone with an accent spoke in the background. “Our contact is here with us, and we’re checking out the surrounding area.”
“I just spoke to Cole, and he told me they’re headed to the hotel.” She was hoping to spot Udall when the satellitepassed over the area, but that could be like finding a needle in a haystack.
“Yeah, we’re hoping he’ll show his face soon.” Boone, as usual, sounded calm and unfazed by what they were up against.
“Is there anything I can do for you guys from here?” They were all incredibly self-sufficient, but she needed to do something.
“What you’re already doing—watching over us—is more than enough.” There were urgent-sounding voices in the background. “I’ve gotta go. We’ve found someone who might know something about the girls.”
“Okay. Be careful,” Luna said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” The line went dead.
Luna tapped a key to break the connection, sat back, and huffed out a breath. Boone sounded like he was running when he hung up.
Runningtowarddanger, not away from it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Boone,Calliope,andHawkfollowed Khalid up a gentle slope for about a mile until they were looking down on the central part of Aliabad. Up ahead was a ramshackle stone and wooden structure with an attached outdoor pen area made from scraps of wood and barbed wire.
Several sheep grazed around the area, moving in and out of the makeshift barn and yanking up the scant tufts of grass scattered around the sandy area.
Khalid stopped, held his finger to his lips, and signaled for them to gather close.
“This property and those sheep belong to Fahim Shirani,” he whispered as he cast a quick glance at the barn. “He is a solitary man who lives in a small room attached to that structure. Perhaps you will let me speak to him first?”
Boone nodded in agreement, and he heard a raspy smoker’s cough from inside the small building.
“He has smoked cigarettes since he was very young and was recently diagnosed with emphysema,” Khalid said. “Sadly, it has not stopped him from smoking.”
Their heads on a pivot, they scanned their surroundings as they closed the distance to the wide, open doorway. Their noseswere immediately assaulted by the stench of sheep dung and urine. The floor was nothing more than packed mud, and the interior was lit only by sunlight pouring through two square openings in the exterior wall.
About ten feet away, opposite the entrance, a short, rail-thin man had his back to them. He was slightly hunched over, and his shoulder blades and vertebrae could be seen beneath his long tunic shirt, which was as filthy as his pants. His sandaled feet were caked with mud and who the hell knew what else. Scraggly brownish-gray hair hung down and obscured his face as his body convulsed through a phlegmy series of coughs. The coughing fit subsided. He straightened, hocked a loogie out the window, and adjusted his kufi on his head.
“Hello, Fahim.” Khalid stepped into the room.
He spun to face them, and a look of terror flashed across his features as his eyes slid from one person to the next.
“We have some questions for you.” Khalid approached him, weaving around sheep and careful to avoid the piles of shit pebbles everywhere. “I am sure you have noticed a man nearby. I want you to tell us what you know of him.”
“A man? What man? I … I do not know what you are talking about.” His voice shook and stammered. He was obviously lying.
Khalid flattened a hand to the center of his chest and shoved him up against the wall.
Eyes wild, Fahim banged against a small wooden shelf, his shoulder sending it crashing to the ground.
Boone stepped over a sheep and moved in to block the guy from one side. Hawk moved to block the other side. Calliopenudged a sheep out of the way and placed herself with her back to them, facing the doorway and providing cover. She lifted the bottom of her zippered hoodie so her right hand could rest on the pistol holstered at her hip.
Civilian clothes helped them blend in, and their jackets or flannel shirts provided concealment for their weapons. Hawk wore an old ball cap with a buffalo stitched on it. Calliope had her white-blond hair tucked up into a black knit hat pulled down over her ears. Boone preferred cowboy hats, but a six-foot-two-inch Caucasian guy walking around in a Stetson would draw too much unwanted attention, so he opted for no hat at all.
“Oh, Fahim.” Khalid shook his head. “It is obvious you are lying to me. And if you do not tell me what you know, we will simply cut the throats of every single one of your sheep.”
