Gabe slipped sunglasses over his dark brown eyes. Between the contacts and his beard, he was pretty damned uncomfortable. Like Grace, he wore desert-colored cargos and a white linen shirt. He was grateful for the loose black turban that hung over his head and protected him from the blistering sun that shone like a ball of flame in the cloudless blue sky. It was going to get a lot hotter before they got where they were going.
Gabe put the Jeep in drive and they left Kuwait with minimal fuss, heading across the border with the fake IDs that had served him well during his days with the CIA. “We’ll be given shelter for the night once we arrive in Abadan, and then we’ll leave to find Tussad once the city sleeps. They have imposed curfews because of the bombings, so we shouldn’t have to wait too long.”
“Won’t your contact find it strange you’re bringing a woman with him?”
“Not necessarily.” Gabe felt her stare, but he kept his eyes on the treacherous road as they bumped their way over the mountains and closer to the city. They still had another four hours to travel by car before they reached the entrance to Abadan. If he was a weaker man, he would have blushed under her gaze. He knew that look better than anyone. And he knew it meant trouble.
“So he’s used to you bringing women with you when you visit?” she asked, her voice calm even as her eyes spit green fire.
“It helped with my cover. It’s been three years since I last saw him.”
“You mean you were bringing strange women with you here while we were still married?”
“Dammit, I told you it was part of the cover. It’s not like I slept with any of them. Believe me, I’ve never for one second forgotten that you are my wife.”
“I
Gabe didn’t bother to correct her. It probably wasn’t a good time to mention he’d never signed the divorce papers. As soon as they’d been delivered, he’d promptly shredded them and gotten rip-roaringly drunk. It hadn’t been one of his finer moments. But he was still married in the eyes of the law, and that’s all that mattered.
The sun was quickly fading, and its heat pulsed in waves of bright orange off the sand, making the tiny grains shimmer like glass and the barren land before them waver like a picture going in and out of focus. They were fortunate the scorching days were tempered by cool nights, and that they’d brought plenty of water. The desert wasn’t forgiving to those who weren’t prepared.
The rest of the drive was made in silence as they traveled farther and farther into hostile territory—both of them had their pistols ready on their laps. When the transition from day to night passed, they both pulled on their night-vision gear, their attention never wavering from the numerous hiding places the mountains provided.
“I’ve got something,” Grace said. “Two o’ clock, about a hundred and fifty yards ahead.”
“I see him. That could be Kareem. He’s a little heavier than the last time I saw him, but the posture is right.”
“I don’t like this, Gabe. There are too many good places to hide in these mountains. We might as well have targets on our foreheads.”
“Where would you go if you were going to pick us off?” Gabe asked.
Grace looked her options over and pointed to the left. “Up that steep ridge there. I’d have visibility of anyone coming or going through the pass.”
“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. 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 duffel 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.
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.”
