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He shrugged one shoulder. “A few days. Not long. Unless you want the Taliban to destroy your school and take you, you need to leave.”
If the Taliban really were close, Bahram was right. They’d have no mercy on a woman teaching girls. So she nodded slowly. “I’ll think about what you said. Let you know if I decide to leave.”
“Make up your mind quickly,” he said, heading for the door. He glanced over his shoulder. “In the meantime, I’d sleep with a knife, if I were you.”
“Maybe I’ll do that,” she answered. If someone came for her with a knife, she had her gun. She had a knife, as well, strapped to her thigh. She wore it every day, just as she carried her gun in her tunic every day.
“Good night, Bahram,” she called as he stepped out the door. “Again, thank you.”
He didn’t respond or look back at her. He shoved through the gate in the low fence in front of her house and disappeared into the darkness.
Laila stood in the shadows near a window, watching him walk down the street. He turned a corner and disappeared into the darkness, and she slumped against the wall. He was heading in the direction of Amira’s house. But she had no idea if that was his final destination.
Leaning against the wall, being careful that no one could see her, she listened for a long time. Heard nothing but the screech and howl of a cat fight a few blocks away. The mournful call of a night bird.
Nothing human. Nothing that would indicate danger.
After listening for fifteen minutes and hearing nothing more, she went into her tiny bedroom and closed the door. Swung the shutters over the front and back windows, to prevent anyone from overhearing her.
Finally, Laila checked her trunk for signs that it had been tampered with. When she found all her tells in place, she unlocked the secret drawer at the base of the trunk and retrieved the satellite phone hidden there. Hit the auto-dial button for Mel at the embassy in Kabul.
The phone barely rang once before Mel picked it up. “Laila,” she said, her voice urgent. Strained. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Sorry it took so long to call you.” She told her handler about the walk home from the meeting, having to wait in the yard to hear Saeed snoring. About Bahram, waiting for her in her house.
“I want to talk about Bahram and what he said,” Mel replied. “But first tell me about the meeting.”
Laila closed her eyes and recounted everything she’d seen. She described the man who’d arrived in the car, emphasizing the things that had struck her. His gait. The light bouncing off bright white teeth. Her sense of something... off. And she told Mel he’d pushed to get the men and boys to join the Taliban.
“You get any pictures of the guy from the car?” Mel asked immediately.
“I did, but I was hiding behind a wormwood bush, so they’re probably not very good. I’ll send them to you anyway.”
“Please do, then delete them from the phone,” Mel answered. “So he was recruiting for the Taliban.” Mel muttered a curse beneath her breath. “What was the reaction of the men in the meeting?”
“Of the twenty-four men and boys at the meeting, it sounded as if several signed up immediately. Several others said they’d think about it. The majority of the men in the meeting said nothing.”
Mel sighed. “That’s disheartening.”
“Only a third expressed any interest at all,” Laila countered. “And the four who said they’d think about it? Maybe there were being polite.”
After a pause, Mel blew out a breath. “Keep your ears open. Let me know if you hear anything else. Especially if you hear about any Taliban gatherings.”
“I will,” Laila said. “But keep in mind, most of the men tonight were boys. Children playing at grown-up.”
“You’re too tender-hearted for your own good, Laila. You know what’ll happen to you if the Taliban take over. And those boys wouldn’t care that you taught their sisters.”
Tired, and cranky with it, Laila said, “I’m talking about children, Mel. My boys wouldn’t brutalize a woman. Especially one they know.”
There was a pause on the line. “Laila?” Mel said softly. “Are you getting attached to those boys?”
“Of course I am.” Shocked at the question, Laila lifted the phone away from her ear and stared at it. As if that would help her understand Mel. “How can I do my job if they don’t see me as a human being? Why would they come and tell me things if they didn’t think they could trust me?”
After a long pause, Mel sighed. “Sorry, Laila. You’re right. The best agents have a heart. They care about the people they’re working with. I don’t have any excuse, other than I was worried sick when you didn’t call on schedule. The longer it took, the more scenarios ran through my head. I think I’ve worn a rut in the floor of my office.”
Maybe Mel needed to take a break. Find her humanity again. “I couldn’t call earlier,” Laila said. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“I know,” Mel said quietly.
