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“Keep your eyes in that direction. I’ll keep watch in front. My contact has a submachine gun slung over his arm, and he’s ready to use it.”
“The merchant business must be rough,” she said. “Tell me what my cover is.”
“You’re my American wife, of course.” Before she could sputter out a refusal, he said, “Pretend like you can’t understand what we’re saying and hide your weapon. He won’t expect you to have one.”
She did as she was told for once, shoving the gun in her black duffle bag, but not before shooting him a vicious glare. “You’re going to pay for this.”
“I can’t wait.”
A stream of Kurdish came in their direction. “Is that you, my friend, Amir?”
Gabe answered him back in the same tongue. “It is, my friend Kareem.Salaam alaykum.”
He slowed the Jeep to a stop beside a plump man dressed in black slacks and an oversized olive-green canvas jacket. The man’s hair was thin on top, but a thick beard peppered with gray covered his face. They clasped hands affectionately.
“How are you, Kareem?”
“Not well, my friend. Come. I will take you to my home and tell you all about it.” Kareem ignored Grace as he climbed into the Jeep beside her and pushed her closer to Gabe.
Gabe followed the desert road several miles before there was any sign of civilization. The town was just a shadow of what he remembered it being. “What happened here?”
“Abadan is too close to the border. There were bombings more than a year ago, and most of the people fled inland. Some left the country altogether. My wife and youngest son were killed. The rebuilding is slow, and it is even slower to repopulate.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Kareem. Your wife was a faithful woman. Has your business suffered much?”
“Your words are kind, my friend. My business has suffered greatly, but I’ve managed to find my way.”
Gabe drove slowly through the deserted streets as Kareem gave instructions to his home. Businesses and houses of pale colors with traditional flat roofs passed by. Trees were scarce and those with money seemed to be even more scarce, but he noticed as they pulled onto Kareem’s street that the merchant was obviously doing very well for himself.
The wind was high, and dust swirled around them as Gabe parked the Jeep to the side of a house made of smooth white stone. It was two solid stories and had a balcony on the upper level. The downstairs windows were large and square, and covered with heavy drapes to protect from the sun. It was larger than most of the other houses on the street and had a row of palm trees flanking each side.
Gabe grabbed both his and Grace’s belongings, and they followed Kareem inside. A young girl of about fifteen opened the door before they reached it.
“This is my daughter, Sarala. She will show you to your room and provide you with food and drink. I’m sure you’re famished after your journey. We will speak in the morning about why you’ve come.”
“I’ll look forward to it, but don’t trouble yourself providing us with food and drink for the night. We can wait till morning,” Gabe said.
“I insist, my friend.”
“Then I give you my thanks.”
Kareem nodded and disappeared down a long hallway, and Gabe ushered Grace up the stairs behind Kareem’s daughter. She was small, and she kept her eyes lowered as she opened the bedroom door for them.
“Tell your father thank you for the offer, but my wife and I are really much too tired after our travels to eat tonight.”
She nodded silently and closed the door behind her, leaving them alone. Gabe held his finger to his lips and warned Grace not to say anything. She nodded and unwrapped the scarf from around her head.
The room was lovely, decorated in shades of gold and cream and white. A large bed, covered by a white comforter threaded with gold, sat low to the ground, and two beautifully carved wooden chests flanked each side. The finely woven rug on the floor was the only color in the room—a jewel-toned red.
Gabe upended the backpack he carried on the bed while Grace checked the room over. He stuffed extra magazines in the pockets of his cargo pants and tossed a couple to Grace so she could do the same. He put a backup piece in his ankle holster—a 9mm Ruger—and a seven-inch blade in a sheath that fit around his thigh. His double shoulder holster had two SIG Sauer SP2022s fully loaded and ready to go. He wrapped a circle of wire loosely around his hand and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
Grace was already outfitted with her own weapons and waiting for him in the bathroom. He turned on the shower and she turned on the sink. He drew her into his arms in an easy embrace and ignored the stiffening of her body.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered against his neck.
He breathed in the scent of her hair and couldn’t help his body’s reaction. The adrenaline running through his veins only intensified it. “I’ve got a bad feeling. Something seemed off with Kareem. I want to go now and flush out Tussad.”
“Do you know how to get to him?”
