“Yes, I know.” He tucks his hands into the pockets of his tunic. “I have done many things I regret over the years,Nomar. But I am trying to atone for my mistakes. If we are all still alive tomorrow, I hope you will let me explain myself to you. But for now, time is of the essence, is it not?”
“You will pay for your crimes.”
If Lisette suffers for even one extra minute because I refused to trust this guy, I’ll never forgive myself. “Fine. Tell us what you know.”
Shapur looks from me to Darius and back again. “He has a second home an hour outside of Kabul. At least twenty men on site. The house is three stories tall with two .50 caliber machine guns mounted on the roof. A stealth approach is impossible, as he can see for ten kilometers in every direction. It is rumored to be surrounded by land mines, and the roads are patrolled regularly.”
“And the interior?” Austin asks.
The young warlord shakes his head. “All I know is what I have been able to see from a distance. But even on the roof—where Raziq spends several hours each morning—he is never alone. He has men with him at all times.”
I put my back to the wall and sink to the ground. “Next you’re going to tell me the entire floor of the house is electrified unless we can fake voice prints and retinal scans.”
Shapur chuckles, but quickly sobers. “Raziq may be rich, but he prefers the old ways: murder, torture, intimidation…”
Torture.
The darkness I’ve carried for more than twenty years threatens to drag me under. Imagining all the things he could be doing to Lisette will break me if I let it. But I can’t pack it all away. Not anymore.
“So how do we get in?” I check my watch. It’s almost 2:00 a.m. “Sunrise is in less than four hours. If we leave now, we’d at least have the cover of darkness.”
“It’s almost a full moon,” Austin says. “It’s bright as fuck out there. How the hell didn’t you notice that on the way back from the world’s worst BBQ?”
Darius clears his throat. “One of our assets is sending up a drone in a few minutes. After that, we will hopefully know more.”
“How? It’s the middle of the fucking night. Even if we get a visual, we still don’t know the layout or where Lisette and Mateen might be.” Resting my head against the wall, I stare up at the ceiling. Water stains spread out from a crack near the kitchen. “Raziq is asleep. Along with half of his men. If we wait until morning prayers,everyonewill be awake. There are five of us. Seven if Shapur lends us his two guys.”
“Why do you think I am here?” he asks. “Raziq’s brother tried to have me killed. If it were not for you, Nomar, I would be dead. And we will be ten. Four of my men, and me.”
“Do not count me in that number,” Darius says. “Advisory capacity only, remember?”
Leo arches a single brow at the CIA officer. “Cut the shit, boy scout. You’re here to kick some ass and you know it.”
The speaker attached to Leo’s tablet crackles. “Um, guys?” Zephyr calls. “How much do you love me?”
Austin grins. “You’re the single most valuable member of the team and I will tell you that every day for the rest of my life, without fail, if you have even the smallest bit of good news for us.”
EvenIfeel a bit lighter as her musical laugh spills from the device. “Damn straight. I got you a flyover from a Turkish AWAC with one of the most advanced thermal imaging systems in the world. In four hours, we’ll knoweverythingthere is to know about that house, and Raziq won’t suspect a thing.”
“Four hours?” My heart sinks, even though Zephyr just worked a fucking miracle. “What if…?”
Austin claps his hand on my shoulder. “You said it yourself, Nomar. Everyone’s asleep right now. Fajr is at 4:45. Sunrise is ninety minutes after that. He’s a fucking zealot. He’s not going to do a damn thing during prayer time.”
I nod, though his words bring me little comfort. Once the sun comes up, Raziq will hurt her again. If he hasn’t killed her already.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Nomar
Austin,Darius, and Leo close themselves in the tiny bedroom for two hours of shuteye. Griff takes the chair, his gaze locked on the camera feeds with his M4 at his side.
Shapur sits cross-legged on a dusty red cushion and stares at his phone while I mix up packets of instant coffee.
“Mind if I join you?” I ask, offering him one of the collapsible metal cups.
“You Americans do love your coffee.” He accepts the beverage and inhales the rich scent. “I have never understood the allure.”
“I feel the same way about tea.”
