Especially to each victim's family.
"Who is—was—she?"
"Asma Chaudhry Jafari. Chief Justice Harun Chaudhry's youngest child and only daughter—and, from what I understand, the apple of his and his wife's eye."
Their victim's father was the chief justice of Pakistan's Supreme Court?
Oh, this was bad. Very, very bad.
And, hell, even Riyad could read her expressions now. Because he was nodding. "You were right. She's the key."
Wrong. That poor mutilated woman was the log that was going to fuel the fires of hate and discontent that were already sweeping the city, and keep them raging for who knew how long. How the hell were they going to put this one out?
"Wait—did you say, cherished daughter?"
"Yeah."
"Then how is it that mom and dad didn't even know she was missing?" Asma Chaudhry had been murdered four weeks ago. Granted, her own upbringing had been utterly shitty, but if Asma's hadn't been, shouldn't the woman's mother or father have noticed her absence at some point over these past weeks?
Especially with this country's extended, and very tight-knit, family structure?
And then it hit her.
"She's a traveling nurse, or—" Given those pregnant victims, "—a midwife." How else had Durrani lured her away from her job, prior to murdering her? Asma might not have trusted Durrani as dating material, but he was a doctor. She'd have believed the bastard when he claimed he had patients who needed her. Either way, "The woman was working in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas, wasn't she?"
Directly across the border from Afghanistan, and near enough to that cave. Where Pakistani villages were few and far between. With even fewer amenities.
Phones.
Riyad nodded. And was that actually a glint of respect in the man's eyes? For her? "That's a damned good guess."
"Not a guess." She'd earned that insight during her hellish final session with Durrani in the Griffith's brig. "How did Asma and Durrani meet? Do we know?"
"Not yet. But she did get her nursing degree in Boston, so Agent Castile will begin there. She worked in Islamabad until she married a local doctor, Ejaz Jafari. They were in a car accident about two years ago. Ejaz was killed and she miscarried their son. She went back to work afterward. But there's more. It's about her father, the chief justice—and the prime minister. There's been a power struggle going on this past month in this country and it's more serious than outsiders think."
That was news to her. But then, this past month she'd been up to her neck in the cave investigation and then in a coma.
She knew Chaudhry by name, but only because of the news he'd made a year ago, not a month ago. And, of course, there was the reason for her instant recall after all these months. An element had hit a personal hot button. "I just remember the older news. Last year Chaudhry became a national hero when he outed a longtime, trusted clerk of the courts who was passing information to the Indian government." And the hot-button reason she still remembered it out of all the other news that month? "The clerk-turned-mole, he's related to Pakistan's prime minister, isn't he?"
"Yes. Though the clerk is now in prison, serving a life sentence…and is also now Iftikhar Bukhari's former son-in-law."
She nodded. She wouldn't admit it out loud to Riyad, but asshole or not, she actually felt for Bukhari. She definitely related to the personal and political shitstorm the prime minister had undoubtedly endured as a result.
"I assume the news I missed while I was working the cave murders and in a coma is related?"
"It is. I'm not sure if you know, but Chaudhry's been one of our country's biggest supporters over here. More so than Pakistan's president and especially Prime Minister Bukhari, who still regularly takes to the floor of their parliament to bitch about how we violated their country's sovereign borders to take out Bin Laden without letting them know—while completely ignoring the fact that the powers that be in this country knew damned well the fucker was here the entire time. But Chaudhry's take is more balanced. Even leans a bit toward us. Possibly because the man got one of his degrees at Yale, and then sent at least two of his kids back to the States for theirs."
The first half she'd known, but not the part about Yale and his kids.
Regan tucked the insight away as Riyad shrugged. "Anyway, love for Chaudhry still runs exceptionally high on the Pakistani streets, and of course, Bukhari can't stand him. But now their military is on Chaudhry's ass, too. The chief justice made a ruling last month against the army, then followed it up with a major televised interview. Chaudhry's never been a fan of military rule. During the interview, he laid out why. Made a damned good case for why both coups and military rule have actually been detrimental to the world as a whole and to his country in particular. Chaudhry's of the mindset that Pakistan must be an Islamic democracy, but that the country's strength lies in both elements; that while he does believe in a strong military, it should remain in the wings within their country and out of the internal power structure. His arguments are being discussed openly in the media and on the street—and ordinary Pakistanis are beginning to agree with him."
"Is that it?" Though, frankly, that was a heck of a lot.
"Nope. There's one more thing. Chaudhry's eldest son? Ironically, he's a colonel in their army…and he's currently assigned to the country's nuclear weapons' arsenal."
Well, shit.
Didn't that just complicate things?
As for Chaudhry, the chief justice was a hit-and-run accident or home gas heater explosion away from the grave. With the country's prime minster and the army gunning for his hide, even with his son's connections at the arsenal, the only thing that had protected the chief justice this long had to have been his connection to the common man. If the army
