Zeb sipped his coffee appreciatively as he lounged on a couch the next day.
‘This is an upscale house.’ Chloe entered the living room and thanked the chef who brought her drink. ‘Seven bedrooms and baths, a cook, a guard, fancy security … and right in the Green Zone.’
‘Yeah,’ Meghan said as she appeared, ‘and it conveniently happened to be empty, too.’
‘It was empty,’ Darwish said as he entered the house and caught the back end of their conversation. ‘I told you, I provide vehicles to VIPs. I arrange accommodation, too. We offer a full service.’
He stood and bowed elaborately for Tannaz to come into the living room.
‘Why are you still with him?’ the elder sister asked her after they had greeted his wife enthusiastically.
‘Money,’ she grinned. She spoke with a British accent, a remnant of her childhood in London. ‘He has lots of it.’
‘I thought it was for my personality and looks.’
His wife checked out his thinning hair and the noticeable bulge at his waist. ‘Of course,’ she mocked him. ‘There isn’t anyone more handsome than you in Afghanistan.’
‘Where are you folks going?’ Broker asked, gesturing at their formal attire.
‘The event! The signing of the treaty,’ Darwish explained at their puzzled looks. ‘It’s a grand affair in the palace. We know the president. He sent us invites.’
‘You should come, too.’ Tannaz caught Beth’s forehand. ‘It’ll be spectacular. I heard the palace has never been decked up like this before. There are international visitors from all over. Your ambassador will be there, too. There will be TV cameras …’ her voice trailed away when the realization came to her.
She knows we’re covert operatives of some sort. Zeb started to decline her suggestion when he caught the twins’ looks and mentally slapped his forehead. Mystery Man might be there. He might be one of the speakers.
‘We’ll be there.’
‘I’ll make a call,’ Darwish said delightedly. ‘I can arrange more passes for you.’
‘Ross Krueger can get us in.’
‘What?’ the businessman huffed indignantly. ‘You don’t want to come with us?’
He looked at Zeb and then at the rest of the operatives when no one spoke.
‘What is it?’ Tannaz asked uneasily.
‘You know Pasha is back?’ Chloe said, expressionlessly.
‘The whole world knows. He’s giving interviews on TV as if he’s a celebrity. About his prison time in China, his rescue by American troops. Without him, back, this deal wouldn’t be possible—’ She broke off abruptly. Her hand rose to her mouth in shock. ‘You brought him back,’ she whispered.
‘Yes,’ Zeb replied grimly.
‘We have to move from the past,’ Tannaz’s voice shook when she spoke finally. ‘Those men who attacked Parveen and me … you killed them. I would like nothing better than for Pasha to stand trial for all that he has done to my people. I would love it if he was dead. Who am I kidding?’ she said bitterly as she pointed at herself and the house. ‘All this … I am incredibly fortunate. I have women who come to my hospital who can’t speak because the Taliban cut their tongues. I have daughters who have been raped, whose mothers were stoned.’ She broke off and sobbed silently on Meghan’s shoulder when the elder twin hugged her.
‘But,’ she dried her eyes and sniffed after a while, ‘we have to move on. If Afghanistan is to have a future, it has to make deals like this.’
Bwana stirred. A muscle in his cheek twitched. His jaws were hard and eyes were flinty when he spoke.
‘Mir Roushan Pasha will not stand trial.’
Tannaz stared at him, closed her eyes and uttered a silent prayer when she understood what he meant.
Zeb had to smile at the incongruous sight when she hugged the operative. Bwana, like a mountain, muscle and hardness, embracing the petite Afghan who almost disappeared in his clasp.
‘What about that?’ she said, nodding at the TV when the operative released her.
‘You’ll have to trust us.’
‘I do, dadaash.’ Brother. She smiled impishly and glanced at Darwish. ‘I trust all of you more than him.’
‘All eight of you?’ the businessman said, punching digits on his phone.
‘Yes,’ Zeb replied. ‘Give them our real names. But there has to be no record that we are your guests. … For your safety,’ he explained, when the couple looked at him questioningly. ‘And we cannot be seated together.’
‘How do I look?’ Pasha asked as he paraded in his ceremonial look in the Green Zone house.
‘Like a leader, sahib,’ Faroukh said, nodding appreciatively. ‘Everyone will be looking at only you.’
‘That’s why I need to be at my best.’
‘Will you be making a speech, sahib?’ a soldier asked.
‘No,’ Pasha said dismissively. ‘That’s for Ahmadzai. He’s good at that.’
‘I’m good at what?’ the Taliban politician said, entering the house.
‘Speeches. You’ll be giving one?’
‘Yes. After Rasouli and Rahmani. Let’s go.’
Pasha snatched his rifle and was about to follow Ahmadzai when the leader stopped him.
‘No,’ the politician warned him. ‘No guns. We can’t carry them today.’
‘What if we are attacked?’ Faroukh growled.
‘It’s a peace treaty, you fool,’ Ahmadzai snarled. ‘No one will be attacking or arresting anyone. Your carrying guns will give the wrong impression. Don’t lose sight of our goal.’
‘Power,’ Pasha said.
‘Power,’ the politician echoed and led the way out.