“If it is something that strikes at this government, then I shall be well paid. When you’re through with the weapons, you can return them if you wish.”
Franklin said that sounded like a good plan, and they left. In the car, he noticed that Jeru kept looking behind them and twisting a strand of her hair. Her hands were trembling.
She drove back streets, and now and then she shivered. “You know if the Secret Police catch us with these weapons, we’ll be shot on the spot?”
“Instant justice, or what they call justice,” Franklin said. He took one of the submachine guns out of the suitcase and loaded a magazine and charged a round into the chamber. “Now we’ll be ready for them if anyone tries to stop us,” he said.
Jeru held her mouth tightly closed so her teeth wouldn’t chatter. She almost sideswiped a car on a narrow street.
“Pull over and take a break,” Franklin said. “This is really getting to you. Maybe I should drive.”
“No, you don’t have a license. That could cost you three months in jail. I’ll drive.” After a short stop she did better, and they made it back to her apartment without incident.
Upstairs, the two SEALs examined the weapons, and found them all in excellent condition. They loaded the magazines they had with the rounds and felt more ready to go.
A message had arrived for Jeru while they had been gone. It was from the Afghan Produce Company.
“That’s one of the cover names for the CIA here,” she said. She opened the envelope. They both read the letter.
“Have confirmation of plans for potato production. Special seed will arrive at the airport tomorrow just after 8 P.M. Please pick up the seed there. There will be eight cartons.”
“Might seem like kid talk to you, but we found out this is the best way to fool the people here,” Jeru said. “Anything that has to do with more food production is praised and promoted. We’ve been working on potatoes now for three years.”
“So it’s set. Murdock and his seven SEALs will be here Friday night about eight. We can go right from the airport, head southwest, and get to the first roadblock by midnight. Can you get two more cars to haul us?”
Jeru said no problem.
“Good. We take out the roadblock, then drive right up to a spot a thousand yards away and start hitting them in and out of the caves with the twenty-millimeter exploding rounds.”
“Sounds good to me,” Khai said. “ ’Course Commander Murdock might want to make some changes when he gets here.”
“Fast in and fast out is the best. Jeru,” Franklin said. “Can we change our round-trip return tickets to catch an earlier plane? Several days earlier?”
“No problem.”
It wasn’t noon yet. Khai went from one window to another looking out.
“Would you like to take a walk, Mr. Khai?” Jeru asked.
“Hey, that would break up the day. I’m about slept out.”
“Security, Jeru. He speaks no Afghan Persian.”
“I’ll send Jabal along with him. He’s a good shepherd. No one will even notice Khai in this neighborhood.”
Franklin hesitated. He had the con. A hundred things could happen. Relax. It would be fine. “Yeah, Khai, take a hike. Can’t hurt you any.”
“Thanks, Captain,” Khai said. He checked his money. “Plenty of good Afghan cash. Where is Jabal? I’m ready.”
Franklin watched them from his window when they walked down the street. They were supposed to be back in two hours.
When Franklin turned around, Jeru stood there watching him. She had taken off her blouse.
“Colt, there’s something I want to show you.”
“Hey, Jeru, I thought I saw everything last night.”
She laughed and let her Western-style bra fall into her hands, showing her heavy breasts.
“Sometimes things look differently in the daylight,” she said. She moved to the bedroom door and locked it, then walked back to him slowly, her breasts swaying, her hips pounding out an age-old rhythm.
“Looks like we have two hours to find out if anything is different,” Franklin said.
On the street, Khai looked at everything. It was a new world to him that he hadn’t seen much of. The people, the style of dress, the faces, the buildings. They all fascinated him. He wished he had his camera. He could get some amazing black and white shots to play around with in the base darkroom.
They walked down pathways labeled as streets that wound between buildings and around corners. Merchants, food vendors, and small business firms lined the streets. Then they came across a kind of farmer’s market where many types of fruits and vegetables were for sale. There were also several kinds of bread, and here and there some goat cheese.
He took it all in, buying nothing. Jabal bought some fruit they munched on as they walked.
They came around a corner, and in the wider street they saw a police sedan stopped. Three officers were questioning everyone who came by. Too late Jabal saw them and started to turn. One of the policemen yelled at him. Jabal turned back and shrugged. “Go back the way we came,” he whispered in English, not looking at Khai. Jabal walked to where the policeman was finishing questioning a woman. He looked up at Jabal.
“Where is the other one you were with,” the policeman said.
“With? I was walking alone. Yes, someone was near me, but he wasn’t with me, just walking past me.”
“Liar. We saw you with him before. He may be the one we are looking for. You stay here. I’ll find him.”
Khai had turned away from Jabal the moment the cop yelled. He heard the whispered warning, and walked away slowly to the corner. Then once around it, he ran. He went through one small street after another, not sure where he was. Then he looked behind him and saw that there was no one chasing him.
He paused and looked around. Nothing seemed familiar. He’d never been here before. He started to retrace his steps. No. The cop might still be back there somewhere. What was the address where they had been? What was the name of the street? Khai searched his mind and then shook his head.
He was lost in a city of over two million people, he didn’t speak a word of the language, and he didn’t have the slightest idea how he could ever find Jeru’s apartment.
22
Tran Khai leaned against a building and tried to slow his racing heart. Yeah, he was lost. So grab hold and get out of it. He was on a street with lots of businesses and some cars. Maybe someone spoke English.
Fat chance. Which direction had he run, south? Yes. So he had to move back north to find something familiar. He had no hope of finding Jabal again. Not in this crush and with his half-mile run. Yes, it felt like a half mile, no more. That gave him an initial point. So he would move that far back north and see if he recognized any streets.
Yes, now that he had a plan, he felt better. He had money, that was no problem. He could point and buy if he had to. Buy what? Food? He wouldn’t be gone that long.
The first few blocks were disappointing. Nothing looked familiar. He saw another police car, and he dodged into a small store until it passed. He went back to the street and continued on. He hadn’t felt so confused and alien since the first day he’d landed in the United States after coming from Vietnam. He would get through this, just as he had before.
At the next street corner he recognized a small stand where a woman sold live chickens. She would chop off their heads and pick off the feathers on any bird she sold. Yes, he’d seen it before, but which way had they come on the street?
He moved in one direction and his mind whirled. Had he seen the man lying in the street before or after the chickens? Yes, before. So he was heading the right way. He walked three more blocks, remembering things along the way. Then he came to the place where the buildings almost crowded out the sidewalk.