I slam my fist down on the conference table in the center of the cabin. “I amnotlosing you, Lisette. And we’re sure as fuck not losing Mateen, Amelie, or Philippe either.”
The other men gather around her. The plane starts to taxi, but none of us move. “This is what we do, Lisette,” Austin says. “And we’re damn good at it. Leo, Trevor, and I took down an assassination plot in Panama. Griff saved his girlfriend from a trafficker with nothing but a gun and a geriatric taxi driver at his side. And Zephyr took down the Strauss cartel after convincing the grumpiest bastard on the planet she wasn’t a murderer. In the face of enough evidence to convict the Pope himself. And Nomar…he’s deadlier than any of us. He spent the past two years—”
“Stop,” I mutter. Lisette doesn’t need to know what I did. It won’t bring her son back. Not yet. Not until we have a plan.
The plane lifts off, and Pritchard pulls tablets from one of the black bags. “Time to see what Zephyr’s got for us.”
* * *
The womanon screen looks like she belongs at a rave. Not hacking into the dark web over a bowl of Corn Flakes and the biggest mug of tea I’ve ever seen.
Zephyr yawns, a lock of teal hair falling over her eyes. “Wren sent over what little she could find on Raziq’s financials. He’s fucking loaded.”
“Define ‘fucking.’” Austin ambles back from the galley with a fresh mug of coffee.
“Thirty million. Give or take. He got into medical school in London, and worked for almost a decade as a cardio-thoracic surgeon. He returned to Kabul six years ago.” Zephyr takes a long sip from her mug and photos of a three-story house surrounded by thick stone walls topped with razor wire stream across our tablet screens.
“He bought this property when he moved back to Afghanistan. He also has an apartment close to Salam Medical Center.”
“Blueprints?” Leo asks.
She stares directly into the camera. “This is Kabul. Even if theydidexist at one point, they don’t now. Any infil is going to be blind.”
* * *
Lisette
I cannot tear my gaze from my phone. From my son’s smiling face. The voices around me are nothing but background noise. Mateen, Amelie, and Philippe have been in Kabul for more than six hours now. What is Raziq doing to them?
“Can you find out if Laurent has woken up?” I ask. Everyone turns to look at me. “Amelie must be frantic. She will want to know how he is…”
No one speaks for several seconds until a woman’s voice comes from the speaker in the center of the table. “I’ll find out. But it might take me an hour or two.”
“Merci.”The word takes so much effort. Like I have not slept in weeks. A part of me is already locked away behind those high stone walls. Yet, a part of me is still here. With a cup of rich coffee in front of me. The last one I will ever have.
Will he kill me quickly? Or make me suffer? I can endure pain. As long as my son is not made to watch.
“Lisette?” Austin covers my hand with his. “He’s calling.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lisette
“About damn time, fucker,”Nomar says.
Raziq’s smile fades. He looks so much like Faruk. Heavier. Smooth skin. Perfect teeth. He stands in front of a beige wall. Dark brown shutters are partially closed over a barred window.
“Watch your tone. Or I will return the woman to you in pieces.”
“I need to see my son,” Lisette says. “Now.”
“Say hello to your mother, Mateen.”
He sits on a bed, dressed in a tan tunic and pants. He is clean, but his eyes are swollen, and his lower lip wobbles. “Maman…where are you?” he asks in French.
Raziq slaps him across the face. “This is your home now. You will speak Dari or English. No French!”
Fat tears spill into his cheeks and he curls into a ball, sobbing.
