Beyond The Limit (18 page)

“You are positive of this?”

The guard nodded solemnly.

Pete listened to the translation by Hesam. He said, “The security people logged out the hopper crew one hour earlier. Kabir was the only one left, according to the records. Why do you ask?”

Stroking his beard, Hesam looked around and then dismissed the guards. He turned to Pete. “Kabir has always been rebellious.”

Anxiety began pumping through Pete's entire body. “What does that mean?” he rasped. Staring into the sheik's shadowed eyes, he felt a wave of fear.

“Unfortunately, Kabir's nephew is a member of the Taliban. I never questioned Kabir's own allegiance. He has been faithful and true to me, his village, his family and my clan.”

Mouth dry, Pete looked toward the mountains, faintly illuminated by the rising moon. “Kabir is a member of the Taliban?”

“No, I do not think so. I hope not.”

“You
hope
he isn't?” Pete stabbed a finger toward the floor. “That was one thing I asked of you, sir—not to let anyone with known Taliban members in their family work here on our site.”

Hesam gave him an apologetic look. “Kabir has never spoken out against Americans, or against me, for that matter. I've never caught him in a lie.”

“So what does that mean for Cali?” Pete's voice became hoarse. “She's gone, and Kabir was the last one here. If we assume he
is
tied in with the Taliban, why would he try to kidnap Cali? Does he want money?” Pete couldn't stop the wobble in his voice. Emotions deluged him as he stood tensely in front of the sheik.
This can't be happening.
Pete had paid so much attention to security, to keeping everyone involved in this project safe.
Why Cali?

Shutting his eyes, he took a deep, ragged breath. He knew the answer: she was a woman in a position of power, and the Islamic terrorists could not stomach that dynamic.

“My friend,” Hesam soothed, patting Pete on the shoulder, “let us not panic. If Kabir is a member of the Taliban and he was the last one to be seen with Cali, then, yes, she could be kidnapped. I will have my guards here go to Kabir's village and look for him. If he is there, he will be brought in, held and questioned.”

Gulping, Pete opened his eyes and stared down at Hesam. “Why would he do that?”

“I cannot read minds, my friend. But he might have been given orders to try and kidnap you or Cali because you are the leaders of this enterprise.” Stroking his beard again, Hesam walked out of the security office and stared up at the dark slopes of the Hindu Kush. Pete followed him.

“The Taliban hide in caves up there,” Hesam continued. “You know that as well as I. Kabir could have kidnapped her and handed her over to our enemy. They would have taken her by horseback up into the mountains.”

“To what end?” Pete couldn't keep the desperation out of his voice. A terrible, deep trembling began within him and he wanted to scream in rage and fear over Cali's disappearance.

Hesam turned and looked up at him unhappily. “You know that they behead Americans….”

Pete staggered backward. Pain, serrating and swift, closed in, making him feel as if he was suffocating. “Not Cali.” he rasped. “They couldn't do that to her.” And yet he knew of another captured woman, from Ireland, who had spent thirty years in Iraq helping the poor. Iraqi terrorists had threatened beheading, but at the last moment had saved her from such a fate and put a bullet in her head instead. Either way, she had suffered terribly for months and then been murdered. Oh, God, that couldn't happen to Cali.

He needed her.

There, it was out. Pete bitterly acknowledged that in the last year he'd come to need Cali. He'd never admitted that to anyone. Certainly not to Cali, who insisted that their relationship be only about business. Pete hadn't told his parents, either, too afraid that such an admittance would somehow jinx the relationship he dreamed of having with Cali someday.

Wiping his mouth, he turned away and repressed a sob that tore up into his throat. Pete wanted to cry. He wanted to vomit. Feeling Hesam's firm, steadying hand on his shoulder, Pete lifted his head.

“My friend, do not go there, at least, not yet.” The sheik said. “I have a plan.”

C
ALI'S HEAD HURT
like hell. Each jostling movement of her horse made it worse until it felt like sledgehammers were pounding her brain. Hands tied with rope in front of her, she held the reins in numbed fingers. Her captors rode in front and behind her. Dizzy, she gripped the front of the saddle.

Cali realized she was helpless. It wasn't something she'd felt often in her life. Just one other time—with Russ. Bitterness coated her mouth as that awareness permeated her foggy state. Anger mixed with fear began to seep through her as she became more conscious of her surroundings.

In the faint light of dawn, she saw other horses in front of hers. A single line of Afghan riders, all with AK-47 rifles slung over their shoulders, moved at a slow, plodding pace up a narrow dirt trail littered with stones. To her left rose a long, smooth slope of rock. To her right was a thousand-foot drop-off to a chasm far below. As she recognized the mountainous terrain, terror radiated through her. Taliban. She'd been kidnapped by them!

Blood trickled down the side of Cali's head, where she'd been coldcocked by Kabir. She couldn't lift her hands to touch the area, could only feel the warm fluid still leaking from the wound and dribbling downward. Most of the bleeding seemed to have stopped, and blood was now drying on her left temple and tense jawline.

Horses snorted and breathed heavily, for they were, Cali estimated, over ten thousand feet. It was an effort to breathe, so she knew the elevation had to be high. Eyes squinting from the constant agony, Cali struggled to get her bearings. But each time she moved her neck, pain shot through her skull.

Numbly, she noted that evergreens appeared as scraggly dark shapes on the steep, rocky slopes far below. It was cold at this hour and this altitude, and she was glad of the woolen burka she was wearing. Who had put it on her? She was still wearing her construction clothes beneath it. Trembling, Cali couldn't stand the thought of being unconscious and having some man or men touching her, pulling the burka over her body. Nausea rolled in her stomach.

Straining to look out through the crisscrossed netting in front of her eyes, Cali tried to determine how many men were in the raiding party. There was no mistake about it: Kabir was a Taliban member. He must have dragged her out to the fence, unseen. Someone had to have cut a hole through it—his Taliban friends, no doubt. Kabir could never have gotten Cali through the security gate; the guards would have discovered her.

How long she'd been slumped over the neck of the horse, Cali had no idea. Her watch was missing. She'd awakened to find her mouth gagged, her hands bound and her body covered in the black burka.

The steady movement of the thin, small Arabian beneath her was somewhat soothing to the fear eating away at her. Where were they going? What where these men going to do with her? She thought of trying to escape, but on this narrow path, it would be impossible. Furthermore, there were several riders behind her, and someone had a lead on her horse. She was boxed in with no place to go.

Her mind gyrated crazily back to Pete. Had he realized she was missing yet? What must he be feeling right now if he knew she had been kidnapped? The metallic taste of blood coated the inside of Cali's mouth. The rag forced between her teeth was tight around her neck, and her jaw ached. How she longed for water!

Her back molars felt loose, thanks to Kabir's blow to her head.
The son of a bitch
. If she got any chance to escape, Cali resolved she would get even with that traitor.

Again, she thought of Pete. For some reason, she desperately needed the handsome Marine, who had always reminded her of a courtly knight from the olden days. They had never kissed, or touched one another as lovers would. So how could she want him like this? Was it due to the terror of dying?

Didn't everyone need someone in a crisis? Of course. Her heart pounded, underscoring the feelings that now raced with an agonizing awareness through her. She wasn't sure which was more painful—the threat of dying, or discovering her need for Pete.

Oh, what Cali would give to be free! She twisted her wrists, which were bloody and raw from the ropes. She tried to loosen them, but the coarse strands only cut deeper.

Miserably, Cali closed her eyes, the ache in her heart even worse than the physical pains haunting her. Somehow, Pete had slowly, over time, worked through her armor and touched her.

Cali was sure she had a mild concussion, because her nose had bled off and on throughout the ride. Right now, there was no bleeding, but she could feel caked blood pulling at the sensitive flesh around her nostrils and upper lip. If she got out of here, what was she going to do about Pete? She would still be working with him….

Everything seemed so bleak and hopeless to Cali. If only she got a chance to escape! Right now, she wanted to be racing down the gravelly, rocky slopes of the Kush Mountains to freedom. Back to the building site. Home to Pete….

Rattled by these deep feelings, Cali continued to rock forward and back with her horse's movements, her head bowed, the hammering pain unrelenting. What she'd give to stop and rest for just a little bit. They'd been riding all night. In the pale light of dawn, she had no idea where she was. No landmarks looked familiar as they made their way across the steep, dangerous terrain. Where were they heading? And what would her captors do with her? Rape her? Torture her? Hold her for ransom? Behead her? The last thought nauseated her.

All around Cali rose the silent Kush Mountains. If only she could find one familiar landmark. Oh, she'd done a lot of riding up in the hills around the site, but never this far or this high. Dizzy and confused, Cali couldn't even tell directions, except that the sun rose in the east and set in the west.

At the top of a steep rise, the narrow trail flattened out. Cali caught sight of a huge cave just ahead. That's where they were going.

Twisting her bonds, Cali worked and worked to loosen them. Her wrists were numb and she felt no pain, but fresh, warm blood ran down her hands and she knew the rope was cutting into her flesh.

The string of horses wearily moved into the cave and halted at the rear. Cali saw two men in turbans, with bandoleers of ammunition across their chests, waiting. A small fire deep within the cave lent just enough light to see. The fragrant odors of coffee, curry and lamb wafted, mouthwatering smells that reminded Cali of just how hungry she was.

A posting line was strung across the back of the cave. Cali saw the lead riders dismount and tie their weary mounts to it. She did not see Kabir among them. Was he a mole, a hidden implant in the village and at the site, giving the Taliban information? Cali thought so. It would explain why he wasn't among this group. Kabir had probably gone on home that night, faded back into village life, and no one knew what he'd done—except her.

She stiffened as the tall man at the front of the group came striding toward her. Twisting her head, she saw four other riders near the opening, waiting. Were they there to stop her from turning her Arabian around and racing out? Probably.

“Get down,” the man snarled to her.

Shock bolted through Cali as she got a good look at his upturned face. It was Ahmed! Pete's first interpreter! Her surprised reaction earned a cocky grin from the man. He reached up and grasped her arm.

“You!” Cali rasped through the gag. Instinctively, she jerked her foot out of the stirrup and thrust it forward. Her boot slammed into Ahmed's chest as he tried to haul her off the horse.

He grunted and careened backward. Dust rose around him when he fell.

Another Taliban soldier who had just dismounted ran up and grabbed hold of the burka Cali wore. With one hard jerk on the material, she was wrenched out of the saddle. She tried to brace herself for the fall, but air whooshed from her lungs as she landed hard on her right side. The horse danced around, his hooves barely missing her. The pain in her head was so intense she cried out. Blindly, Cali struck out with her feet, but the man was faster. In the enveloping burka, Cali couldn't maneuver. The thick fabric twisted around her legs, preventing her from lashing out once again.

“Get her!” Ahmed thundered, scrambling to his feet. He quickly dusted off his trousers and strode over to where Cali was being jerked to her feet. Grabbing the top of the burka, Ahmed yanked it off her. Then he leaned down and jerked the gag from her mouth.

His hand was like a claw, digging painfully into her shoulder. Cali spat out the rag and wrenched herself from his grasp. She was glad to be rid of the damn, hampering burka. How any woman could live in such a prison was beyond her. Tossing her head, regardless of how much it hurt her, Cali glared up at Ahmed.

“You son of a bitch! You're a traitor!” she spat. Cali saw him snarl and lift his pistol out of its holster.

Her eyes widened. Her breath stopped as he jammed the gun into her face. Staring up into the dark barrel, only inches away, Cali felt her world grind to a halt. Ahmed grinned savagely down at her, hatred burning in his dark eyes. Slowly, he cocked the gun.

That sound was the only thing Cali heard in her narrowing universe. All other noises ceased to exist. She heard the alarming click and saw the lean, brown fingers on the pistol. And Ahmed's index finger slowly pulling back the trigger—to kill her.
Die. I'm going to die…
In that moment, her life began flashing before her eyes.

Cali stared fixedly at the gun barrel hovering inches from her face. Wanting to live warred with the fact that she was going to die within seconds. Something vital snapped within her. Air rushed out of her lungs and through her parted lips. Ahmed's eyes burned like those of a demon who was going to suck her life away from her. She was going to die…

“Ahmed! Leave her be!”

“But, my lord, Arsallah—”

“No! Go about your business, Ahmed. Put that pistol away! Now.”

Cali flinched as Ahmed angrily jammed the pistol back into the holster. Breathing hard, her arms gripped by the guard who stood behind her, Cali jerked a look to her right, toward the man who had just spared her life.

Arsallah walked quickly over to them. He was a tall man, as lean as a starving greyhound. In his silver-studded leather belt he carried a curved knife in a jeweled case, and he grasped an AK-47 in his left hand. Cali sensed he was the leader of this group.

Glaring up at him, she growled, “Let me go, dammit! You have no right doing this to me! I'm an American citizen.”

“Enough, woman. Keep it up and I'll gag you once more. Wouldn't you rather have some hot coffee? Some lamb and curried rice? Surely, you're as hungry as we are. Now, be quiet. Ahmed!” Arsallah turned to the man, who stood nearby. “Take her and sit her down over there by the picket line. Keep one guard on her and feed her.”

Ahmed bowed, though his teeth were clenched. “Yes, my lord.” Although rich, Ahmed obeyed because Arsallah came from a very old, rich family himself. By day Arsallah ran his family's oriental rug business. By night he rode for the Taliban like himself.

After he dragged her to where the horses were tied, he roughly shoved her to the ground. Cali collapsed on the camp floor, her shoulder striking the rough granite wall. Pain flared again up her neck. She felt so weak. Her legs were like Jell-O. Adrenaline was pumping hard through her, and she was shaking not only internally, but physically. Fear of dying flooded her, along with the serrating terror of the unknown to come.

“Stay there,” Ahmed hissed, shaking his fist in her face. “You aren't going to live long, anyway.” Then he grinned savagely. “One last meal, you yapping dog. You are going to be a symbol to any female in Afghanistan who dares to defy Islam. No woman will show her face when we get done with you.”

With a look of triumph, Ahmed muttered fiercely, “I've been waiting for this moment, Ms. Roland. I helped plan this kidnapping. Oh, it took a long time and much patience on my part. No one fires me from a translation job. It has been a pleasure plotting to capture you.” Wheeling around, he snapped an order to a Taliban guard to watch her closely. Then he stalked back to the fire, where all the men were sitting down to eat.

Breathing raggedly, Cali tried to settle herself. She leaned against the wall and slowly straightened her weakened legs. Her heart pounding like a sledgehammer in her breast, she closed her eyes momentarily, trying to deal with her avalanching emotions. Ahmed had threatened a year earlier to get even with her, and now he had. Why hadn't she been more alert? Taken his threat more seriously?

Stomach churning, her heart racing, Cali tried to think coherently. She had to figure out if she could escape. Quickly memorizing the layout in the cave, she began to grasp just how large it was. From the piles of dried horse dung, she realized they must use this cave often. A wind blew into it, making smoke from the small fire drift back toward her. That meant there was another entrance behind the horses.

Craning her neck, Cali tried to pierce the grayness. It was impossible. Her eyes kept blurring, a sign of a concussion. Despite this, she did the best she could in studying the space. From her position, most of what Cali could see were countless legs of horses. She could also detect the dancing, wavering shadows of men on the rough cave walls, cast by the light of the fire.

Every few minutes, dread and terror paralyzed her. Ahmed kept stealing dark glances in her direction. Time and again he stroked the pistol at his side. That memory of his gun barrel staring down at her made her nauseous with fear.