“Such as being killed?”
“He wants Aliah to find Sabera.Get her to the States.It’s of the utmost importance…” Daryl resumes reading.“The Taliban can’t get their hands on her.Her family isnotto be trusted—”
“Wait, her family?”
“That’s what it says.‘Please, Auntie, do whatever it takes to keep Sabera safe.’”
Daryl stops reading.He moves to the next email, except there isn’t one.That’s it.A last note from a young man who clearly hadn’t exaggerated the risk to himself and others.I glance at the date, do the math.Six days after writing this…
Jamil is dead.And his pregnant girlfriend—did Jamil know?There’s no mention in his email to Aliah, but there are clearly plenty of details he’s omitting.Maybe that’s why he wanted Sabera to be protected from the Taliban.And yet I already think he’s referencing something more professional than personal.Something relevant to them both being on the same side of the revolution.
Her encryption skills, gifts with codes?Or languages, or memory?
A key that has no lock.
And one—Jamil, Isaad, and now Aliah?—found worth dying for?
I have Sanders Kurtz’s email address.“Forward everything to him,” I instruct Daryl.
Then, as his fingers clack away on the keyboard:
“Daryl, what do you think they’re doing to her right now?”
He doesn’t have to ask to know I’m talking about Aliah.Gracious, determined, sparkly-eyed Aliah.
Daryl sighs heavily, forwards more of Aliah’s emails.
“There’s one thing I still don’t understand,” he begins.
“One thing?I got dozens.”
“Didn’t you say—and Aliah agree—that refugee placement is random?So what are the odds that Sabera and her family ended up here in Tucson, basically on Aliah’s doorstep?Sounds too good to be true.”
“Placement issupposedto be random,” I consider out loud.Then: “Didn’t Detective Marc mention Isaad’s call log included a bunch of DC numbers?And Aliah emphasized that while the Ahmadis were new to Tucson, in fact they’d already been in the US for nearly a year?”
Daryl peers down at me.“You think they have some sort of connection?”
“Honestly, I’m beginning to think they have all sorts of connections.Certainly plenty of people seem to know about Sabera and have a vested interest in her future.”
“Who would have that kind of clout?”Daryl presses.
“Excellent question.”Though I already have one, make that two, prospects in mind.My head is pounding harder, however, and there’s little to be done given the late hour in the eastern time zone.Here, on the other hand:
“It’s almost sevenP.M.,” I state.
“Ballroom studio meet-and-greet,” Daryl agrees.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
I appreciate our optimism.
Just then the office door drifts open, and the barrel of a gun appears.
CHAPTER 37
HABIB TAKES TO FOLLOWING MEeverywhere.I see him when I exit the showers, when I walk from our shack to the medical clinic.Sometimes he looks perfectly groomed and composed, like he could be sitting at my parents’ table.Other times he is a broken, bloody mess.Always, he is smirking.I will get you, he tells me with his eyes.I will have my revenge.
Initially, I hunch my shoulders and scurry by.Don’t look at the shadow that isn’t there.But over time, I start hissing at him angrily, which then leads to curt orders to stop it, and then, quite naturally, entire exchanges.About his greedy, treacherous father.About how I was totally right to do what I did and they didn’t deserve an ounce of that gold.
