Kim rose with a lull in the automatic weapons fire and slithered over the center console into the front seat. She kept her head below the dashboard, reached across the dead driver, grasped the handle, and pushed the door open. After shoving the body out onto the road, she maneuvered behind the steering wheel and jammed her foot on the gas. The engine revved and the tires spun, blasting up a spray of pebbles that thunked and tinged in the wheel wells beneath the car.
The smell of burnt rubber filled the cab as they rocketed backward and smashed the fender of a green Suzuki pickup about twenty yards to their rear. Kim had just shifted into drive when a round punctured the center of the windshield and then two more bullets followed in quick succession. She jammed her foot on the gas, cut the wheel left, and fishtailed onto the sidewalk.
Plowing into a Kabuli Pulao stand that slung mutton, rice, and vegetables across their hood, Kim redlined the speedometer, dodging motorized rickshaws and commercial flatbed trucks, careening down a one-way street in the wrong direction. Some distance between her and the machine gun allowed Kim to rest easier, but they weren’t out of danger just yet.
The powerful tribal leader, Omar Zadran, was the whole reason they were given so-called safe passage across the country in the first place. Without him as a chaperone, she was at the mercy of the Taliban. And Afghanistan was still home to ISIS and Al Qaeda, who may have been tipped off that CIA was in town and didn’t want to miss an opportunity for revenge.
It was tempting for Kim to let her mind wander on all possibilities, and as an intelligence officer, it was part of the job. But none of that mattered at the moment. The only thing she really needed to concentrate on was what to do next. With Zadran likely dead, the deal with the Taliban was over. Which meant she, Faraz, and Bayat were now on their own.
At that thought, Kim glanced back to see if Bayat was awake. Between the gunfire and stunt driving, he’d finally regained consciousness. Faraz unscrewed a bottle of water, raised it to Bayat’s lips, and held it there for him to drink. Other than the earlier phone call with his brother, it was the only sign Faraz had shown of tenderness, which was one of Asadi’s hallmark traits.
Kim had just turned back around to find yet another impediment, not unlike the first. A second Toyota Hilux, this one silver, careened down the street right toward them until skidding to a halt and lining up parallel to block their egress. Two gunmen wielding AK-47s rose up from behind the sides of the truck bed and opened fire.
Certain that more bad guys were chasing from the rear, Kim dared not turn around, lest she end up sandwiched between the enemy trucks. Spying an alley, she jerked the steering wheel left and veered across the street toward the opening. With 7.62 rounds raking across the passenger side, she punched the gas a little too hard and the vehicle skidded out of control.
Kim mashed her foot on the brake, but it was already too late. They slammed into a wall inside the narrow passageway. With their car too wide to continue, she put the car in park and looked to Faraz, who leaned forward and grabbed the M4 rifle from the front seat. After jacking in a round, he threw the back door open, jumped out, and let loose with a full auto burst. Before the two approaching gunmen had even gotten off a single round, Faraz dropped them both. This wasn’t a grip and rip kind of job. He had picked his targets and made them count.
Fully aware that enemy reinforcements were on their way, Kim leapt out the driver’s-side door, moved around to the back, and pulled Bayat out of the car. She put her arm around his waist and took on most of his weight. Faraz moved around the trunk of the Corolla with his M4 at the low-ready. He didn’t stop to talk, just continued on past them farther into the alley. He was about thirty yards ahead and pulling away from them, gaining more ground with each step.
Kim took the risk of revealing their position and called out to him. “Faraz, wait!” She shot a quick glance back at the Corolla, desperate for her satellite phone, which was probably on the floorboard beneath the seat. “Faraz, please! I can’t move him that fast on my own!”
Faraz either hadn’t heard her or didn’t care. He just kept moving forward, checking doors every so often, trying to find a way inside. He yelled something in Dari, probably a profanity, and then turned back and charged up the alley.
Faraz spoke on the move. “What the hell are you doing?”
“We’re trying to follow you!”
“Then don’t.” Faraz stopped and shooed them away. “Go somewhere else!”
Kim glanced over her shoulder and turned back to him. “But I don’t know where to go.”
His face was more of fear than frustration. “And you think I do?”
Kim took the opportunity to catch up to Faraz. She tilted her head at Bayat, whose woozy eyes were starting to close. “He can’t go much farther on foot.”
“How is that my problem?” Faraz asked.
Kim thought a moment for a good answer and came up with zilch. “We won’t make it without you.”
The honesty seemed to calm Faraz. “Just call up one of your CIA black helicopters and have it fly you out of here.”
Before she could respond to his sarcastic remark, he turned toward the end of the alley, looking eager to move. “And why should I help you anyway?”
Kim wanted to launch into everything she’d done to help save Asadi. That she had used every bit of leverage to come back to Afghanistan, risked her life, purely out of the desire to reunite him with his brother. But if talking to Asadi earlier hadn’t sparked enough of a desire to help her, then maybe one other thing would.
Kim blurted out, “Because I’ll pay you.”
Suddenly Faraz seemed less anxious to flee. “How much?”
“I can’t give you an exact figure right now. But you’re a smart guy. Clearly, we have someone here that the American government desperately wants back.” Kim put the emphasis of importance on Bayat, unsure if Faraz would see him as hindrance and want to ditch him if all that mattered in getting his money depended on rescuing her. “It’ll be enough to last you a really long time. At least six figures. Maybe more.”
Two words. One reaction. Faraz could barely contain his smile. “Follow me.”
He’d just said it when the screech of tires and the rev of an engine echoed through the alley. As the black Hilux lined up with them, Kim looked to Faraz, who raised the M4 to his shoulder and fired at the handle of a locked door. Following up with his boot, he kicked the broken frame, and then gave a couple of bumps with his shoulder until it busted open and he was inside.
Close behind, Kim pushed a shaky Bayat through the entryway first. Thankfully, Faraz took the brunt of his weight and eased him down the hallway. She dashed into the building and trailed the other two into what, at a glance, looked like the back entrance of a warehouse.
Kim turned a sharp corner, past row after row of crates full of vegetables to find what appeared to be a storeroom. It didn’t take long to see what had stopped Faraz in his tracks. The look of surprise coming from the armed men probably matched her own. She’d gotten out of one problem. Thank God. But apparently now they were into something that was a whole lot worse.