Shapur shoves me back. “Youdo not have a ‘fucking clue’ where they are.I, however, know the precise location of Raziq’s second home. In the next few hours, Darius will launch a drone to fly over the area. That should give you the confirmation you need.”
“Who the hell is Darius?” Griff asks.
Shapur looks from me to Austin to Griff, baffled. “He is one of yours. Central Intelligence Agency Officer Darius Bakir.”
* * *
The rideback to the safe house passes in silence. Shapur’s guys—Arash and Javed—take their own car, but he rides in the Land Rover with us, staring out the window at the slums along the way.
There aren’t many lights in this part of Kabul. Aren’t many people either. Most fled to rural areas years ago after one too many mortar blasts destabilized the electrical grid.
When we approach the gate, I peer over at Shapur. “Your guys coming in?”
“No. They have family here. They will wait for my call. What we have to discuss is not for them to know. Surely you remember them? Arash and Javed were never…bright.”
“Loyal as fuck, though.”
He nods, and I study him as he climbs out of the Land Rover and follows Austin to the door. This isn’t the same power-hungry man-child I left in Jalalabad three years ago. Shapur carries himself with a seriousness at odds with the man from my memories.
Leo meets us at the door and pulls Austin in for a quick, one-armed hug. “Don’t do that shit again, man. I mean it.”
“Wasn’t planning on doing it this time,” he says. “Spineless piece of shit.”
I check the bedroom. Empty. “Where are Amelie and Philippe?”
Another man—Bakir, I assume—steps out from behind Leo. I’m on him in a heartbeat. Shoving him against the wall, I press my forearm to his throat. “Explain yourself right fucking now, asshole.”
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t seem to care that I could snap his neck in seconds. “They are on their way back to Toulouse. Or will be very soon. A colleague of mine took them to the airfield twenty minutes ago.”
“Back off, Nomar.” Leo grabs my wrist, and I cringe. Great. Now Shapur knows my real name. Then again, the likelihood we all live to see tomorrow is so low, it doesn’t matter. “Darius is a boy scout. I should know. I trained him. For a while.”
“Until you lost yourself in a bottle of rum,” Darius says. “I was happy to learn you are sober now.”
He speaks with precision. English isn’t his first language. I look the man up and down. Six-foot-five, two-ten, with smooth amber skin. He runs a hand over his trimmed beard and mustache. If it weren’t for his close-shorn, tight black curls—and his height—he could pass for a local.
“Saudi?” I ask.
He straightens his shoulders. “Egyptian.”
“And you’re here because?”
“Because the CIA has had our eye on Raziq Ali for the past five years. So when he started spending money at averyaccelerated rate, we paid attention.” Darius stares down at me like it’s my fault Raziq kidnapped Lisette. “Imagine our surprise when we heard a rumor two of ourformerofficers hired a private plane to fly them and the Viper from Istanbul to Kabul.”
“That was none of your goddamn business. Or don’t you know what ‘former’ means?” Griff asks. “My SSO locked me to a desk because he didn’t think a deaf guy with only one arm could still throw a punch. Want to see how wrong he was?”
“Enough!” I wedge myself between Griff and Darius before they start wailing on one another. “All I care about is getting Lisette and Mateen away from that fanatical, delusional asshole. Once they’re safe, I don’t give a shit what happens. You can take down the whole goddamn agency for all I care, Griff. Hell, I’ll have your back. But until then…”
The two men retreat to separate corners of the room. Austin grabs the jug of water from the kitchen and refills his canteen. “Nomar’s right. We barely got out of there alive. Assuming Raziq thinks we’re dead, he’ll lower his guard. So all we need—” he turns to Shapur “—is the man’s location. And a goddamn plan.”
“We need a hell of a lot more than that.” I glare at Shapur, and whatever he sees in my eyes must convey my anger, because he shifts his gaze to the floor. “Before I trust a word either youorDarius has to say, I need to know whyyouwere the one to break us out of there. Why didn’t the CIA do it?”
Darius snorts. “Because the United States government cannot—in any official capacity—put boots on the ground in Afghanistan. I’m here in an advisory capacity only.”
“That doesn’t explain howyougot connected withhim.”
The CIA officer strides over to me, hands on his hips like I’m some petulant child who needs to be punished. “I thought you were a smart guy, Garcia. After all, you’re the one who set all this in motion.”
I whirl around and shove Shapur halfway across the room. “You refused every single meet I tried to set up. For eleven months. You’re the reason I lost Lisette in the first place. If you’d gone to even one…”
