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She was guilty as charged. And she knew how much the Taliban hated women with ideas. She inhaled deeply. “Are you certain they’re coming here that soon?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I didn’t hear that directly, of course.” He glanced down for a moment, then looked up at her. “But my friend knows.”
So Bahram’s friend was part of the Taliban.
Bahram looked away. “He is interested in Amira. As a wife. He wants to protect her. He doesn’t want her to be at the school tomorrow.”
Oh, dear God. Amira married to a member of the Taliban? Laila was horrified. And she knew Amira would be, as well. Maybe that was why she seemed afraid of Bahram. Afghan women often had no say in who they married.
If the Taliban were really coming to Al Kamen, she couldn’t be here. She knew what the Taliban would to do her. She’d been told to hide if they showed up unexpectedly. Leave if she could.
Trying to hold onto her composure, she asked Bahram, “Have you planned how I will leave?”
He exhaled in relief. Nodded vigorously. “My friend can borrow his father’s car. We will drive you to the caves.” He nodded toward the north, where the Hindu Kush was full of caves and tunnels. “You can hide in one of them tonight. Tomorrow, he and I will come back and drive you to Baghlan. You can take an airplane from Baghlan to Kabul.”
That sounded... well-planned-out. Too planned out. Too complicated for Bahram to devise on his own. As far as she knew, he’d never been outside of Al Kamen. How would he know she could find a plane in Baghlan to take her to Kabul?
But she nodded as if she bought everything he’d said. Clearly, she needed to get out of Al Kamen tonight, but she didn’t trust Bahram and his friend. She was probably walking into a trap. But she didn’t have a choice.
She couldn’t walk to the caves. Couldn’t walk to the closest village, which was ten miles away. And if she tried to hide in Al Kamen? She’d be found.
If Bahram and his friend were willing to drive her to the caves, she’d go with them. Find a safe hiding spot, then call Mel and ask to be extracted.
“That sounds like a good plan, Bahram. When do you want to leave?”
The boy’s shoulders relaxed, as if he’d feared she’d challenge his plan. “We should wait until later. Until most people are asleep. I’ll come back to get you. We’ll walk out of the village, past the farmland. My friend will meet us there. He doesn’t want anyone to hear him driving during the night.”
She nodded. If Bahram’s friend was borrowing his father’s car, it made sense that he didn’t want to advertise it. “Okay. I’ll get my things together.”
“Only take what you absolutely need,” he said. “You’ll have to carry your bag into the caves. We may need to walk for a while.”
“Thank you for letting me know I’ll be walking. I’ll keep that in mind when I pack.”
Bahram took a deep breath. His foot jittered on the floor. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said. “Be ready.”
“I will be,” Laila said, watching as he walked out the door.
Something was wrong. Bahram was nervous. Jumpy. Was it because his friend was borrowing his father’s car? She didn’t think so. Bahram and his friend were going to betray her.
She touched the spot on her shoulder where Mel had injected a tracking chip. Standard practice for any operative in Afghanistan, she’d told Laila. Especially important for women.
Hurrying to the chest in the other room, Laila closed the shutters, opened the secret drawer and pulled out her SAT phone. Knowing she might be overheard, she didn’t call Mel. Instead, Laila typed in a text message to her handler. ‘Taliban coming. Headed to the caves with Bahram. Will call you when I get there.’
She hit send and took a deep breath. Moments later, the phone vibrated with a return text. ‘Watch him carefully. Keep your gun handy. Don’t eat or drink anything he gives you.’
Duh. Laila rolled her eyes as she texted ‘Wasn’t planning to’.
Setting the phone aside, Laila dug up her go-bag. Dusted off the dirt, then pushed the dirt she’d removed back into the hole and tamped it down.
Took inventory. Ten water bottles. Five MREs. A first aid kit. A flashlight. A mylar blanket and a lightweight mylar jacket. A knit hat. A compass. An extra SAT phone, in case the first one broke or was stolen.
She arranged everything neatly in the bag, then threw in several changes of clothing. Her essential toiletries. A few small gifts her students had given her.
There was nothing in the other room she needed. Her trunk, with the rest of her clothes and books, would be picked up by a courier service and taken to the embassy in Kabul.
She laced up her boots and carried her backpack into the other room. Sank onto one of the hard chairs, wishing she’d had a chance to say goodbye to her students. But she’d known from the beginning that her time in Al Kamen could end this way. That she’d vanish unexpectedly, in the dark of night. Without a chance to say goodbye to anyone.
She hoped she’d made sure, every day, that they knew she cared about them. That they were important to her. And that she’d always remember them.
