Zeb and his team stopped whenever the terrorists halted as they drove from the north of the country to Kabul.
‘They’re in a hurry,’ Chloe commented when Beth signaled that the Taliban were on the move.
‘Pasha wants to reach Kabul just as it gets dark,’ Zeb guessed. ‘He won’t be stopped, but he has enemies, too. He doesn’t want to show himself in daylight.’
‘He’s got that meeting with Ahmadzai as well,’ Meghan reminded him. ‘We heard him arrange the call earlier today. Nope,’ she guessed his next question. ‘No mention of what’s so secret.’
Only one way to find out, Zeb thought as he climbed into the passenger seat and the elder sister set off.
His hunch had been right. Pasha didn’t make any more stops, and it was just past seven pm when they rolled into Kabul.
Heavy evening traffic, with street lights piercing through the gloom. Honking vehicles and pedestrian traffic that cut across the road with utter disregard for heavy vehicles.
‘Where does Ahmadzai stay?’
‘In a government house in the Green Zone,’ Beth replied. ‘Until the negotiations are completed. But it doesn’t look like Pasha is headed there.’
‘Nothing from his phone?’
‘It’s quiet. No calls.’
Zeb tapped the windowsill thoughtfully as Kabul slid past. Beth had put the drone away, since it was difficult to navigate the UAV in the crowded city. We’ll be relying on his phone signal alone.
It led them to Taimani.
‘We can’t risk going inside,’ Meghan objected as she parked behind a truck. ‘That’s a quiet street,’ she added, referring to the alley Pasha’s convoy had disappeared into.
‘They’ve stopped.’ Her sister looked up from the screen. ‘About midway. I have the coordinates.’
‘What’s the holdup?’ Broker sauntered to Zeb’s window.
‘Our three vehicles will be noticed. Besides, I’m sure some soldiers will be outside, on the ground.’
‘You three go. We’ll come on foot. Armed and ready.’
Meghan fired up the engine and U-turned before Zeb gave the command.
‘Darwish,’ she said, grinning, ‘got these Range Rovers specced up to Western standards. Even the engines run quiet.’
‘There.’ Beth leaned between the front seats and pointed to a bunch of men lounging against a vehicle. ‘Those are the Taliban men. See that takeout joint across the street? Pasha’s entered that building.’
‘Which floor?’ Zeb peered through the window at the line of ordinary-looking buildings. There seem to be apartments on top.
Taimani, like many of Kabul’s outer districts, was a mix of markets, residences and small offices. A different hustle compared to that in the city’s center.
‘Can’t tell that. Signal’s not good enough. However,’ she grunted, ‘our drone will find out soon enough.’
Zeb didn’t wait for her to launch the UAV. He slid out of the vehicle and grabbed a pakool, a round hat worn by men, from his door’s inside pocket and adjusted it over his head.
‘WHERE DO YOU THINK—’
‘Closer,’ he cut off Meghan’s hiss. ‘I want to see if I can spot him.’
‘Not unless you have X-ray vision,’ she said drily. ‘It’s a brick-and-mortar place.’
‘Roger, Bear and I have come up from the other side,’ Bwana said smugly in their earpieces, ‘while y’all have been arguing. We’ve got those soldiers in our sights. Between us and you folks, we have them trapped.’
‘Yeah,’ Chloe confirmed. ‘We’re at the mouth, at each end of the street.’
‘A lone woman might attract attention,’ Beth warned.
‘Not the way she’s dressed,’ the bearded operative chuckled. ‘That shawl on her … it’s hard to make out her gender.’
Zeb nodded in the dark unconsciously as he drew closer to the fighters. He heard them laughing and joking and tightened inside when one of them looked his way. The soldier didn’t seem to spot him on the dark street and returned to listening to his companions’ lewd stories.
Zeb took cover behind a pickup truck that was more than a hundred feet from the fighters. The takeout joint was brightly lit, and several apartments above it were showing signs of occupancy.
He narrowed his eyes as he tried to locate the building’s entrance. There, between the hair salon and the food place.
‘Third floor,’ Beth said triumphantly. ‘Our drone can hear his voice.’
‘Who else is there?’
‘One must be Ahmadzai, it sounds authoritative … yeah, it’s him. Werner’s confirmed it.’
Their AI engine had an extensive database of the voices of world leaders and personalities around the world and could run matches in no time.
‘They aren’t alone, however. There are many more voices. Seem to be at least twelve men inside. There could be more, the way the thermals are overlapping. Our bird’s outside that window that we can see.’
Zeb looked up the building but couldn’t see the UAV in the darkness.
Its stealth paint camouflaged it against the background and rendered it undetectable. The drone’s powerful mics and technology amplified sounds coming out of a window, cut out the glass’s infinitesimal vibrations and turned the voice stream into clear, audible recording.
As long as it’s out there, listening, we’re good.
‘Vehicle entering the street,’ Bear warned. ‘A Merc.’
Zeb ducked behind the truck when twin beams of light brightened the alley. He crawled beneath the truck to see the vehicle roll to a stop in front of the takeout joint.
‘Can you see who it is?’ he asked softly. ‘I can only see two pair of feet and the driver’s silhouette.’
‘Someone important,’ Beth said tersely. ‘His head is covered by a shawl. The second man seems to be his CPO, but his head’s down. Can’t make his face out … VIP’s gone inside.’
‘It is someone high-up,’ Bwana confirmed when the Mercedes drove down the street. ‘No plates on it.’
‘Let’s see if Werner can voice-identify him. I’ll patch the feed in our channel for all of us to listen in.’
‘You talk like an American,’ Pasha sneered when he had greeted Ahmadzai perfunctorily. The Taliban politician served him hot tea and snacks and sat across the table but didn’t react to the terrorist’s insult.
‘Big picture,’ the chieftain scoffed. ‘Those are American words. What’s so secret that you couldn’t tell me over the phone?’
‘You’ll find out in a moment.’
‘In a moment? Why can’t you tell me now?’
‘We are waiting for a visitor. How did you end up with the Chinese?’
Pasha summarized his capture and rescue briefly as he checked out the men with Ahmadzai.
‘Where are we? Whose apartment is this? Yours?’
‘It’s a friend’s.’
Both of them looked up when the door opened and the vice-president of Afghanistan, Niaz Rasouli, walked in.
‘HIM!’ Pasha shot to his feet. His soldiers gripped their rifles tightly, ready to shoot their way through. ‘WHAT’S HE DOING HERE? IS THIS A TRAP?’
‘Relax, brother,’ Ahmadzai said calmly. ‘He’s with us.’
‘How can that be? He’s with the government. He’s Rahmani’s man—’
‘Sit down. It will be clear to you once I explain it.’
The Taliban chieftain sat down with a glare and folded his arms across his chest.
‘What do you want?’ Rasouli asked him as he took his place beside Ahmadzai.
‘Me?’ Pasha frowned, thinking it was a trick question. ‘I want to be in power. I want to roam around Afghanistan doing what I want, without you or the Americans controlling me.’
‘You will get that.’
‘How?’ he demanded. Ahmadzai had a small smile on his lips, but the Taliban leader let the vice-president speak.
‘Come out in support of the peace treaty. Tonight.’ Rasouli held his hand up before Pasha could protest. ‘And after some time, kill Rahmani.’