“What happened in the warehouse?”I ask now, trying to keep Habib talking.Distract him.Possibly open up a window of opportunity for Daryl to pounce.At the moment, there’s noway he can ambush Habib without leading to Aliah’s slit throat.“I mean two of your teammates, pulverized to death by a math professor?While his wife escapes?Not exactly a good showing on your part.”
“I wasn’t there!We’d left Rafiq and Ahmad in charge.They paid for their mistake.”
The way he says the words…
I pause, glance up at him.“Isaad didn’t kill them?”
“Isaad gave them a tap or two.My compatriots, on the other hand, when confronted by their failure…” Habib shrugs.“Rafiq and Ahmad were Hazaras.They should’ve known it would end badly.”
I feel slightly ill, especially given the casualness of Habib’s delivery.Just another day in the life of ethnic cleansing.I open a fresh drawer, discover whisks of every conceivable size.I know you’re not supposed to bring a knife to a gun fight, but what about a whisk to a knife fight?My entire head hurts.From major concussion to this.I might black out after all.
Except I can’t.
“Isaad was too slow.We caught him just a few blocks away.”Another careless shrug.“I honor the man’s courage.No matter what we did… he would not reveal your secrets, Sabera.Pity for him.They were not easy on him, as I have experienced myself.”
There’s an edge to his voice at the end.According to Sabera, the Taliban had tortured Habib first, before he sold her out in order to save his own skin.Now he’s apparently grown comfortable with the business of death.Or perhaps just inured to violence.
“You would aid such people, Habib?”Sabera asks harshly.“They destroyed our country.Murdered our family.”
“My father had a plan!You betrayed him.His blood is on your hands.”
“And now my husband’s blood is on your hands.Are we even?How many more lives must you destroy?You know they will only kill you in the end, just as they did Rafiq.”
“Surely you know by now, dear cousin, that I don’t die that easily.”
“I had squeezed the final breath from your lungs!”Sabera cried.
“My last sight was your bitch-whore face looming over me.My next, the bright glare of a hospital room.It is not for me to question the will of God.”
Sabera looks like she wants to scream in frustration.I hastily open a fourth drawer.Graters.Again, in a full range of sizes.What the hell does Genni do in this kitchen?
“The information I possess has no value.I explained this before.Two halves of one whole.You heard my mother say that our entire childhood.Without Farshid, I know only one piece.Deliver such useless results to your compatriots, and your fate will be even worse than Rafiq’s.”
“I don’t care about mineral mines,” Habib grits out.“I want the gold.The piles you stole from my father and his friends.I know you know where it is—you’re the one who moved it.”
“As you wish.I’ll draw the map.You’ll deliver it.Then you’ll die.”Sabera’s turn for a careless shrug.
“Perhaps I’ll take a page from your mother’s book and keep half of the information to myself,” Habib counters.“They will have to bring me along.”
“Torture you for it, most likely.You still think you’re so clever.No.”Sabera waves a dismissive hand.“You are as stupid as ever, cousin.”
Habib hisses in a sharp breath.
I pause, momentarily stunned.What the hell is she doing, antagonizing the homicidal maniac?Then I get it.She’s distracting the homicidal maniac, drawing him back into the tit-for-tat patterns of their childhood.
Even now, Habib gestures at her with his right hand, knife momentarily pulled away from Aliah’s throat and directed at Sabera instead.
Daryl doesn’t need a second invitation.With a roar, he explodes forward, catching Habib hard in the shoulder and spinning him around.Habib doesn’t have a second to get his bearings before Daryl has both arms wrapped tightly around the man’s torso in a massive bear hug, pinning Habib’s arms in place as he squeezes.
Aliah stumbles back.I catch her elbow, pulling her behind the kitchen island with me.One of the drawers had kitchen shears.I grab them, snipping quickly at her bindings as Habib begins to gasp.
He butts his head back, catching Daryl in the face.The big man’s nose gushes blood, but he merely grunts, continues crushing.
Habib tries to twist and kick his way out of it.His hand, down by his side, jabs at Daryl’s leg with the wicked blade, but his movements are too constrained to inflict any real damage.
Sabera has moved forward.She’s staring at her thrashing cousin with the most intense look on her face.
“This is for Isaad,” she states clearly, then drives her steak knife into Habib’s side, four times in quick succession, as fast and lethal as any prison shanking.
