Abby saved Hawkins the trouble of making up an answer.
“We’re here on a job for Global Logistics.”
“Great organization. Maybe I can help. I’ve got a lot of contacts, especially through the DEA.”
“Maybe,” Hawkins said. “Let’s talk about it later.”
“It’s a deal. I’ve got a car outside. We can chat on the way to your hotel.”
“Thanks, Mr. Murphy. I’ve already made arrangements,” Abby interjected.
“Efficient, aren’t you?” Murphy said. “Where are you staying?”
“The Serena,” Abby said.
“Good choice. How about dinner?”
“We’ve got plans,” Abby said, much to Hawkins’ surprise.
They agreed to meet after dinner and parted company. A leased SUV was waiting outside the airport to take them along the heavily-trafficked main road to the city. On the ride in Abby asked about Murphy.
“Your friend seems quite the character. The operational decisions will be yours, but are you really considering bringing him into this mission?”
“Only in a limited way, for intel. As he said, he has lots of contacts. I haven’t been here in five years and the place has changed a lot since then.” He gestured out the window. “Murph knows who the players are.”
“My impression is that he is one of the players.”
Hawkins nodded.
“Murph came into Afghanistan with the first wave of CIA agents who turned the local tribesman against the Taliban,” Hawkins said. “We shared intelligence for a number of missions. I left and he stayed.”
“That’s unusual to stay here all that time.”
“Most people count the days. But Murphy is like a soldier of fortune back in the heyday of the British Empire.”
“A mercenary, in other words.”
Hawkins thought about it. “More complicated. He’s just someone who was born out of time.”
“Humph,” Abby said, pinioning Hawkins in a narrow-eyed stare. “Your friend Murphy wasn’t the only one born out of time.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Hotel Serena was about a twenty-minute drive from the airport, close to government ministries and foreign embassies and overlooking a beautiful park. With its carefully landscaped gardens, swimming pool, classic Islamic architecture and cool interiors, the hotel had long been an oasis of calm away from the frenetic pace of the city. That tranquility was shattered in 2008 when a Taliban suicide squad attack killed several guests. Since then, security had been beefed up.
After being thoroughly checked out by the police guarding the entrance, the taxi pulled up under the hotel portico and its three passengers got out. The receptionist smiled when he saw Abby walk over to the desk.
“Welcome back to Kabul, Ms. McWilliams. A pleasure to see you again.”
“Thank you. It’s good to be back.”
“You get around,” Hawkins said as the clerk went to fetch the room keys.
“I stay here whenever I’m in town on business,” Abby said. “I’m in Kabul two or three times a year. How about dinner in about an hour?”
Calvin shook his head. “Being my usual anal self. I’m gonna drop my stuff off and head back to airport to double-check that all my hardware made it intact. I’ll grab a sandwich and catch up with you later.”
Abby made dinner reservations for two in the hotel’s Silk Route restaurant and told Matt to let Murphy know, then they all took the elevator up to the top floor where they had adjoining rooms. On his way to a shower, Hawkins passed a full-length mirror. His shirt looked as if it had been trampled by a buffalo and his jeans were ripe. He called the desk clerk on the hotel phone and asked if he knew of a men’s clothing store nearby.
“Yes. There’s a Joseph A. Banks not far from here.”
Hawkins gave the clerk a list of clothes and sizes, and said he would be very happy if he could arrange delivery in forty-five minutes. He took a long hot shower and had just wiped the shaving cream off his chin when he heard a knock at the door. It was the smiling desk clerk holding a plastic bag.
Hawkins inspected the black cashmere blazer, blue shirt and olive tan slacks to make sure they were the right size and gave the clerk a fifty dollar tip. Where he was going, Hawkins wouldn’t need money.
He slipped into his new clothes and looked in the mirror again. A fashionable gentleman had replaced the scruffy figure who had stared back at him earlier. Abby called and said she was almost ready. When he knocked, she came to her door dressed in a high collar patterned black velvet shift dress with partially sheer sleeves. Black stockings showcased her long slender legs. She was modest and sexy at the same time. Except for her onyx and silver earrings, she wore no jewelry, but she didn’t need any ornaments.
Hawkins eyed Abby from head to toe. “You make me look like a home insurance salesman.”
She took in his muscular form that filled out the shoulders and chest of his blazer.
“Not at all. You’re quite dapper. The work boots are a nice touch.”
“Woods Hole chic,” Hawkins explained.
He offered his arm and guided her to the elevator.
The maitre d’ recognized Abby who told him that they needed a quiet table with room for two more joining them after dinner. He led them across the lavishly appointed restaurant to a table covered with a starched white cloth and set in a small section separate from the dining room.
Hawkins glanced around. “I must admit that the last time I was in this country my accommodations weren’t as nice as this.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you here. It will be a few days before we enjoy comfort like this again.”
Hawkins flashed a tight smile. “Glad you brought the subject up, Abby. I wish you’d reconsider your decision to go on the operation.”
“Uh-uh. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”
“Okay, but I want you to level with me. Why?”
“Despite the flip comment I made on the plane about this being no guilt trip, I do owe you for the way I cut you loose.”
“I never blamed you for walking out, Abby.”
“And I don’t blame you for being bitter. I could deal with your fury against the navy. But not against the world.”
“I’m past my Captain Queeg phase. I understand why you left me — I was bouncing off the walls — but why did you leave the navy?”
“The navy has come a long way and I made a rank that was unthinkable not long ago. But I could have commanded a carrier, and that just wasn’t going to happen.”
“You would have made a terrific commander.”
“Thanks for your confidence.’
“And you think by taking this mission you can show the navy that they were fools to pass you over.”
“Something like that,” she said, a slight smirk on her lips. “God, what a fine pair we are.”
They broke into laughter that made some of the other patrons look their way. Abby had to put her napkin to her lips to stifle her mirth.
The outburst caught the attention of the waiter, who hurried over to take their order. They both opted for lamb kabobs sprinkled with sumac, palao rice topped with fried raisins, carrots and pistachios and served with the long thin afghan bread called naan. Over dinner, Hawkins reminisced about his more pleasant Afghan memories. The waiter was removing the last plate when the maitre d’ escorted Calvin to their table. Murphy joined them a few minutes later.
Murphy said, “My offer about helping still stands, but you’ll have to fill me in on the skinny. Like where are you headed?”
“I can’t tell you everything. Let me start by asking you a question. What do you know about Amir Kahn?”