AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She nudged his temple with the pistol. “The same government who sent your guest at tea.”
He nodded and switched to English. “Perhaps we are getting too close to the truth,” he said in a whisper.
Kyla released the man and stepped back, her weapon trained on Ahmadi’s chest as he turned to face her, his hands raised.
“I am not your enemy,” he said.
“Then why would my government send me to kill you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “For the same reason I had tea with another citizen of your country. One of your own is playing for the other side and has sent you to do his dirty work.”
“What do you know that would make someone put a hit out on you?” she asked.
“If you will not kill me, I will tell you what I told my guest at tea.” Ahmadi’s eyes narrowed as he awaited her response.
Kyla lowered her weapon. She could still kill him if he made a move to hurt her.
Ahmadi drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before speaking again. “I received the name of the man who has been coordinating shipments to the Taliban. He goes by…Abaddon.”
“Abaddon?”
The man nodded. “The meaning of the name is destruction.”
At that moment, Ahmadi’s wife called out in Pashto, “Are you expecting a delivery? A van just arrived in front of our gate.”
Ahmadi glanced toward the house.
A knot of foreboding formed in Kyla’s gut. “Call your wife to you.”
Ahmadi frowned. “Why?”
“Just do it. Now.” Kyla turned and slipped between the wall and the house.
Behind her, Ahmadi called to his wife.
Through the windows, Kyla could see Ahmadi’s wife moving toward the back of the house.
Kyla slowed at the front corner and peered through the wrought iron gate at a dark van parked on the street. A door opened, and a man dressed in dark clothes and a ski mask dropped down.
If the mask wasn’t enough to make her blood run cold, the mini machine gun he carried did the trick.
Kyla’s pulse slammed through her veins. She spun and raced to the back of the house, where Ahmadi and his wife stood together.
Kyla glanced at the wall she’d scaled easily. Ahmadi and his wife would not go over it as quickly, dressed as they were in long robes.
In Pashto, she said, “Over the wall. Hurry.” She bent and cupped her hands.
Ahmadi urged his wife to go first.
She hung back.
“Go,” Kyla urged. “Or we all die.”
The woman stepped into Kyla’s palms. With her husband pushing from behind, she landed on her stomach and swung her leg over the top of the stone wall. She dropped to the other side.
Kyla held her hands for Ahmadi.
“No, you go first,” Ahmadi said.
