Zeb’s Glock came to his hand instantly as he got to his feet.
‘Nothing on the road,’ Broker murmured as he checked out the highway with his binos. ‘Panjshir River is behind that field. Did it come from that direction?’
‘Drones didn’t pick up anything, either,’ Beth said, frowning, as she came up next to Zeb. ‘No people, no traffic, just that village in the distance, no people.’
He nodded absently as he checked out a dusty footpath to the poppy field, just as another scream ripped out.
‘Split up,’ he said softly as he lunged towards the track, crouched low. ‘There’s a tree to the far end of the field. See that?’
‘Yeah,’ Chloe whispered, ‘that’s where it’s coming from.’
Zeb ran swiftly into the field, between the neat rows of chest-high plants. Dry soil beneath his feet, small pools of water from the irrigation pipes half-buried in the ground, faded petals of the poppy flowers on the earth, quiet rustling as his friends moved in the direction of the screaming.
‘Hold her! Spread her legs.’
He froze when he heard the guttural command and another indistinct voice.
‘They’re raping someone,’ Meghan whispered tightly.
‘I’m close.’ Bwana. ‘There’s a hut beneath that tree. Four men, outside. Armed. Can hear more sounds from inside.’
Zeb crawled beneath a thick patch of growth and got to the next row. Navigated through that until the dwelling came into view.
He got to one knee as his friends checked in. Meghan, Chloe and Bwana to his right, the rest to his left.
‘Please! I beg you. Let us go—’
The woman’s voice broke off as the sound of a slap reached them.
‘We will. When we have had our fun,’ a man gloated.
Zeb straightened as the beast roared. ‘Take those outside—’
Meghan and Chloe lunged from their hiding places before he could finish. They ran at the four sentries as Bwana and Bear joined them.
‘WHO ARE YOU—’ a man yelled and clawed at his assault rifle. He went down when Bwana swatted him away with an almost casually delivered punch.
Zeb raced to the hut as Broker battled with another guard. He dove inside the opening as a shot rang out.
Details registered on him automatically.
Several armed Afghan men, shouting, reaching for their weapons. Two women on the ground, shrieking and grabbing their clothing. His friends grappling with the hostiles.
He skidded to the ground and landed at the feet of a startled thug, who yelled in anger, reached for his gun and doubled up in agony when the Glock’s barrel crushed his testicles.
Zeb lunged up and knocked him out with a savage blow to the temple. He heard another shot and looked up to see an Afghan race out of the door.
Can’t let him get away.
He charged to the exit and brought him down with a dive.
The Afghan cursed as he kicked savagely and raised his M16. Zeb deflected the weapon with his forearm, crawled on top of the man and punched him in the throat. He was raising his Glock to knock him out when he sensed a shadow falling over him and dived away desperately, just as another shooter swung his rifle wickedly.
He felt the whisper of air on his face from the sweeping weapon as he landed against the hut’s earthen wall.
‘TAKE CARE OF HIM,’ the fallen man yelled and scuttled away.
The newcomer grunted and lifted his Kalashnikov to fire, but he was too slow, too late. Zeb double-tapped his chest and blew his head away for good measure. He got to his feet and went to the edge of the clearing.
Rows of poppy plants under the sun. No sign of the man who had gotten away.
He went to the rear of the hut, which was nothing more than a curved wall of mud with a flimsy roof, and heard an engine fire in the distance.
‘That’s him, getting away.’
‘Who?’ Beth and Chloe joined him.
‘A thug—’
‘Taliban rapist,’ Bear said bitterly as he came around the hut and wiped sweat from his face. ‘How many more of them are here?’
They searched the field but found no other hostiles.
‘I should have killed him,’ Bwana raged when they returned. He jerked his head at the sentry he had felled.
One dead outside, two unconscious. Zeb surveyed the inside of the hut. Two more on the ground, their heads blown away. The rest of the Taliban were on the ground, securely bound and gagged.
‘Sixteen men?’
‘Yeah.’ Meghan brushed a smudge of dirt from her face. ‘One got away?’
Zeb nodded. ‘They were raping those women?’
‘They’d just gotten started when we arrived.’ Her eyes darkened with anger. ‘Those women—’
‘They’re from that village.’ Chloe jerked a shoulder in its direction. ‘This is their family field. They were weeding out the rows when the Taliban arrived.’
‘We’re leaving them alive?’
Zeb thought about Bear’s question as he went to the women. ‘Khanom.’ He bowed respectfully as they bent their heads and turned away from him. ‘What shall we do with these men?’
The elder woman raised her head after a whispered conversation with her companion.
‘Amrikai?’
‘Yes, khanom. We are American soldiers. We had stopped for lunch when we heard you. Are there police nearby? We can call them.’
‘Police.’ The younger woman looked up. ‘They are in the Taliban’s pockets. They will not do anything.’
‘The village will teach them a lesson,’ the older woman declared.
‘Do you need any help …’ Zeb trailed off and flushed in embarrassment when the twins raised their eyebrows at him as if to say: Leave those questions to us.
‘Mamnum, sahib,’ she thanked him. ‘If you can guard them, Nahida and I will go the village and get our people.’
‘We’ll go with them,’ Chloe murmured.
Zeb thought about interrogating the Taliban men, who glowered at them and made unintelligible noises as they cursed their captors.
‘What’s the point?’ Broker advised practically when they discussed it. ‘We can’t lose sight of our mission.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Zeb’s eyes narrowed as dust rose in the distance from the direction of the village.
‘Might be the residents,’ Roger said, ‘but we’ll take cover, in case they’re hostile.’
Zeb waited outside the hut, while his friends disappeared into the poppy field.
‘Relax,’ Beth said in their earpieces, smirking. ‘It’s us, with a bunch of villagers and food.’
‘Food?’ Bwana exclaimed.
‘Yeah, a feast for us.’
The grateful villagers thanked them profusely and insisted they sample every dish they had cooked.
‘We’ll deal with these men,’ Hamraz, the village chief, promised after the feast. It turned out Gulriz, the elder woman, and Nahida were his wife and daughter.
‘Are they militants?’ Zeb asked. Their gang might return to retaliate.
‘Yes, but they won’t attack us. Bakhtiar, the man who escaped, is their leader. He knows well enough to keep away from Chahar. Our village is well armed and we know how to protect ourselves. We’ll make sure our women will not go out alone in the future.’
‘You don’t think they know what they’re doing?’ Meghan said irritably when Zeb stood undecided. ‘This is their land. They’ve survived the Taliban.’
‘She’s right, sahib. Don’t worry about us. We can take care of ourselves.’
‘Here.’ Meghan gave Hamraz a note. ‘You can reach us on that. Call us if you have any more trouble. We’ll get some Western soldiers to swing by.’
‘Bakhtiar,’ Beth briefed them when they finally took to Saricha Road. ‘Thirty people in his gang. He operates in Badakshan, attacks Western soldiers, terrorizes villages, grabs their poppy yield. Local newspapers have called him a threat and have called on the police and army to stop him.’
They’re corrupt. Paid by the terrorists, Zeb thought as Chahar disappeared around a bend. They take a cut of the poppy profits. That’s how the Taliban have survived.
‘There’s something else you should know.’
He looked up at her tone and met her eyes in the mirror.
‘His allegiance is to Pasha and Atash Faroukh.’