Chapter 3
Lily opened her eyes. For a heart-stopping second, she didn”t know where she was. Then reality crashed down—voices raised in anger, the staccato of gunfire, clawing panic.
She bolted upright then winced. Every part of her body ached. They”d walked for a grueling eight hours yesterday over rocky and uneven terrain, and her feet were riddled with blisters.
It was late last night when they”d finally arrived at this sorry excuse for a shelter. Exhausted, she hadn”t been able to do much more than collapse before crying herself to sleep.
Now, in the harsh light of day, her skin crawled as she eyed the dirty room—small and stifling, with no furniture other than a bucket in the corner, a filthy mattress on the floor, and a wooden chair with a missing leg that wouldn”t support anybody”s weight. She vaguely remembered trying it last night, only to end up on the hard, unforgiving ground.
Outside, children wailed and dogs barked incessantly… faint sounds of life indicative of a small town or village. The aroma of cooking food wafted on a stale current of air, making her stomach rumble.
Damn, she was hungry. No one had offered her as much as a morsel or a sip since she”d been taken.
It sucked that she”d been separated from the other hostages and locked in here for the night. Talking with the reporters had made the nightmare more bearable and staved off the creeping dread.
One of them had even spoken Pashto and translated for the rest of the group so they”d known what was going on.
This way!
Keep going!
Don”t fall behind!
Basic commands, punctuated by the prod of a gun barrel or poke of a stick, but it was much better knowing what their kidnappers were shouting at them than being left to wonder.
Now she had no way of communicating with her captors unless they spoke English.
Lily knew the score. Four months in Kabul had given her a front-row seat to the workings of the place. The Taliban factions were a mixed bag—some dragged into the fray, others true believers trying to stitch their country back together after the West pulled out.
She also knew why she”d been taken.
Hawkeye.
The official codename for the military software system she”d helped to develop. They wanted it, needed it, and she was the key, with the access codes locked up tight in her head.
No one else knew the codes apart from the two Afghan software developers on her team who she”d personally trained. She”d made sure each held the job title ”Office Administrator” so no one hacking into the facility”s employment records would suspect them.
A copy of the codes was also stored in the Commander of the Afghan Army”s safe in an undisclosed location, but she”d heard he”d destroyed them when Kabul had fallen to the Taliban.
She was the weakest link.
Panic threatened to choke her.
The small window above her head let in a hard shaft of light, the beams of which picked up the dust hovering around the room. That grimy pane of glass was her only connection to the outside world.
Lily crossed the floor to stand under the sunbeam then turned her face up to the light. What a pain her eyeglasses had been in her lost luggage.
Shivering, she thought back to the chaos at the airport. Desperation and fear in the air, the crush of bodies, the helpless cries. Then the world had erupted—gunfire, screams, hands yanking her into the unknown.
She wrapped her arms around herself and waited until the tremors subsided. It had been a nightmare—and it was only just beginning.
Lily blinked at the sun. Judging by the temperature and the position, it was late morning. She”d been in this stinking room for over twelve hours. Someone must come for her soon.
She tried not to think about what lay ahead. Torture, for sure, as they tried to extricate the codes from her. Death… eventually. A sob caught in her throat.
If she played dumb, pretended she didn”t know anything about the codes, she might be able to buy herself some time. But time for what? Besides, she didn”t think that charade would last for long.
Lily swallowed thickly, trying to generate some saliva. Her mouth was drier than a sand dune. What little water she”d had on her had been left in the van. As well as her jacket with her passport.
Crap.
Without that, she wasn”t going anywhere even if she did somehow escape.
Weariness—or maybe it was despair—crashed over her, and she collapsed back onto the mattress. Who cared about a few pesky bedbugs? She”d be dead in a couple of days. Unless they left her here to dehydrate and starve to death before they tortured her, hoping to make her more compliant?
Maybe their main focus was the reporters, and she”d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Under the circumstances, that would be the preferable option. She gave a dismal snort.
A scratch at the door made her jolt upright. She scoured the room for a weapon but found nothing but that wobbly chair.
The door creaked open. A woman, face veiled, stepped in bearing a tray which she placed at the foot of the mattress.
Relief washed over her.
After a little bow, the woman retraced her steps toward the door. ”Wait,” Lily called out, her voice hoarse. The woman paused, eyes downcast. ”Thank you.”
Lily mirrored the woman”s bow, but she left without a word, the clicking lock echoing through the empty room. So much for trying to establish contact.
Lily was alone again. She wanted to run and scream and kick at the door, but she knew it wouldn”t do any good.
Sighing, she eyed the tray. On the bright side, she now had something to eat and drink. It wasn”t much, just a flatbread and water, but to her it was a feast.
She”d barely finished eating when the door flew open again. Lily scrambled to her feet, heart thundering. A man filled the doorway, his gesture clear.
Follow me.
Was this it? The moment her torment would begin?
Lily steadied herself then stepped forward, muscles aching and blisters screaming with each step. Still, the pain was nothing compared to what she knew was coming.
Gritting her teeth, she followed the man into the unknown.
The drive northtook another whole day but as long as they were on the move, she wasn”t being tortured. They would leave that task to some big-shot Taliban honcho, someone with the authority to squeeze the information out of her and the know-how with which to do it.
Most of the ride, she had a grimy sack over her head, which didn”t help with motion sickness, but she kept listening in the hopes of identifying where she was going.
It didn”t do a stitch of good. Apart from the spluttering and ticking over of the old clunker”s engine, she couldn”t determine anything distinctive. The men spoke Pashto, which meant she couldn”t understand a word they said, and apart from fastening her seat belt for her, they ignored her completely.
She couldn”t help wondering about the reporters who”d been snatched with her. What had become of them? Were they to be transported separately? Ransomed off? She”d heard kidnapping had turned into a booming market in these parts. Governments, wealthy families, even high-profile companies would pay big bucks to have their citizens, employees, and loved ones returned. And, of course, that cash would be used to purchase weapons and put more people in danger.
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn”t care. Under the stinking sack, nobody could see them.
The reality was, she was in some serious shit. There was no one back home to pay her ransom. She”d never known her father, and her mother had died in a car wreck when she was sixteen. Since then, she”d only ever had Joe.
Her heart twisted painfully. It still felt so raw, it was hard to believe he”d been gone almost a year already.
Darling Joe, her rock… The person she”d clung to, who had always been there for her through thick and thin.
Why did you have to die?
Living with a Special Forces soldier, she”d prepped for the worst, but even so, she”d been unprepared to face the reality.
They”d been together for nearly ten years, since high school. Since her mother”s death had left her homeless and his family had taken her in. He was the only man she”d ever loved, the only home she”d ever had.
She sobbed underneath the foul-smelling bag. Joe would have come to rescue her, she knew that without a doubt, but now there was no one. She was on her own.
The car stopped.
Lily sniffed and blinked to clear her eyes of tears. Was this it? Was this the place where she would be tortured? Where she would die?
The car door groaned open, and a blast of cold air slapped her in the face. It was way colder than back in the town. She tensed, ready for the grab-and-drag.
There was no chance of rescue. She wasn”t important enough. Not like a high-powered politician or powerbroker upon whose shoulders rested a fragile peace agreement. She was just a tech geek who”d done some work for the Afghan government. Expendable.
And now, impossible to find. They”d moved her from the village to the mountains, judging by the drop in temperature and the fact that the car had been traveling steadily uphill since they”d set off.
But she had one card left to play. The military software codes. She was the human key to that lock, so she was more useful to them breathing than not. It was a small comfort, but she”d take it.
Showtime. An arm reached across her to unbuckle her seatbelt. She was dragged from the vehicle, then the sack was ripped from her head.
The blinding sun made her eyes water. At least it would mask the crying.
”Where am I?” Nobody answered.
The scenery was dramatic. Mountain peaks towered above, while a river snaked through the valley below, twisting like liquid silver.
Two men gripped her arms then pulled her toward the ridge.
Where the hell were they taking her? There was nothing here but solid rock.
They rounded an outcrop, and a dark slit materialized. Her eyes widened. It was a freakin” cave, but the entrance was disguised to look like part of the mountain. The perfect hideaway.
Her heart sank. No one would ever find her here. There were no signs of life anywhere, nobody to call on for help. Just a rocky mountain and below that, acres of green valley stretching down to the river. It was beautiful, though, in a stark, hopeless way.
The men forced her into the cave. On the way, a sharp edge snagged her arm.
”Hey!” she cried out, but no one took any notice.
One of the men made her sit with her back against the cold stone wall, while the other, much younger, chained her ankles to two iron rings bolted into the solid ground. Crude, but effective. With the shackles on, she wasn”t going anywhere.
The older man left the cave.
”Can I have some water?” The younger guy shrugged, like he couldn”t understand.
”Water.” She made a drinking motion with her right hand. He gave a nod then disappeared, leaving her alone.
She looked around, surveying her new home. Nothing but rock. She couldn”t even see the entrance from where she sat.
Shifting her position, she tried to get more comfortable. Sharp edges dug into her back, and the ground was hard and unrelenting.
Lily didn”t have to wait long before an old man with a long beard and flowing robes came in with a flask of water. Judging by the way he carried himself, she guessed he was the one in charge.
He sat opposite her on the floor, crossed-legged, and set the water down on the ground just out of arm”s reach.
”Salaam,” he said politely, although his face remained impassive. ”I hope you are not too uncomfortable.”
Was he freakin” kidding? She was terrified, cold, desperate to pee, parched, starving, and smelled like a camel after three days of not showering. Otherwise, she was just peachy.
At least she”d had a bucket in the filthy room. This cave didn”t even have that courtesy. And damned if she”d ask this guy for one. Or anything else.
”I”m fine.” She kept her gaze down like she”d seen the women at work do when talking to their male superiors. It wasn”t out of respect, she was too damn terrified to look at him.
He nodded in approval. ”Do you know why you are here?” His English was heavily accented but grammatically correct, and she got the impression he was well educated. Definitely the one calling the shots.
She shook her head. ”For ransom?” It was, she hoped, a convincing lie. No way was she going to let on she knew about the military software system and the codes. That was a last-option bargaining chip, and she still had one other option. If she could convince them that they had the wrong person, she might have a fighting chance of getting out of here alive.
”What is your name?” His eyes were dark and piercing. Did the question mean he wasn”t sure?
Hope flared within her. If only she could convince him she wasn”t who he thought she was.
”Jo Burke,” she blurted out, using the first name that sprang to her mind—Joe”s. In a strange way, it gave her strength. He wouldn”t have backed down in this situation. Joe was a fighter.
She swallowed hard, the memories of him swelling in her throat, masquerading as a tremble of fear.
The man sucked in air over his teeth, his eyes tightening. ”You”re lying. Your name is Lilian Devereux, and you work for the Afghan government.”
Shit.
They knew.
The realization left her cold, and she had to suck in air to prevent being sick. Still, she stuck to her guns.
”I am Jo Burke, and I am a reporter with The Wall Street Journal.” The other hostages had worked for CNN. Hopefully, the correlation would give her story credibility.
”Liar! You are Lilian Devereux. Here is your picture.” He threw a laminated ID card at her feet.
Looking down, she stifled a sob. It was her work keycard. She”d used it every day for the last four months to get inside the secure government building.
How the hell had he gotten hold of it? They must have bribed someone or had a man on the inside.
Tears rolled down her cheeks, she couldn”t stop them. Faced with the damning evidence, she couldn”t very well keep on lying. Her little charade was over.
”Now, I ask again. Do you know why you are here?”
Taking a shuddering breath, she shook her head. She might be Lilian Devereux, but she wasn”t going to give him the luxury of answering his questions. If he wanted her to speak, he”d have to force the words out of her mouth.
He smirked, knowing he”d won this round. ”I will tell you why. You are here because you have something we want. Something that is very valuable to the new regime. I think you know what that is?”
Go to hell.
She kept her mouth shut and her eyes cast down. God, that jug of water looked inviting. She fantasized about gulping down the cool, thirst-quenching liquid and began to salivate.
”You can have it. I brought it for you.” His voice was back to being calm and conversational. ”Once you tell me what I need to know.”
Want to know, she thought savagely. You don”t need to know anything. You want to know so you can prevent the former Afghani officials from monitoring your activities here in Helmand Province.
The opium-rich region had been terrorized by the Taliban for decades. Local farming communities were divided—half slaving in the fields to line the tribal leaders” pockets while the other half tried to make an honest living without being killed for it.
Since the coup, she”d heard rumors that girls would no longer attend school and women would not be allowed to work. The Taliban were going to renege on everything they”d promised before assuming power.
Lily clamped her mouth shut even harder.
After a long moment, the chief got up and sighed. ”I”m sorry you feel that way. You are making things very hard on yourself.” He picked up the water flask and left the cave.
She spent a miserable day—alone, frightened, cold, parched, and starving. He returned later that night, this time with a plate of food in addition to the flask of water, as well as some blankets and a lantern. It was freezing in the cave now that the sun had set.
To make things worse, an icy wind buffeted her from the side, colder than any AC she”d ever felt, but when she peered in that direction, all she saw was shadows.
Gazing longingly at the blanket, she imagined wrapping it around herself, protecting herself from the draft.
As she”d done earlier in the afternoon, she kept her eyes lowered and refused to speak. The man left again, taking everything with him but the lantern.
She still hadn”t gone to the toilet or eaten or drunk anything. Her last bite had been earlier that morning in the village, when the robed woman had brought her the tray.
Food and drink she could last without for a while longer, but the same couldn”t be said for a bathroom. She desperately needed to pee.
Their plan was as clear as day. They expected her modesty to make her beg them to take her to a toilet, then they”d refuse unless she gave them the codes. The same went for the food and water—she”d get nothing until she cooperated.
What they didn’t realize was she didn’t give a damn about modesty. Not in a situation like this. Lily Devereaux was made of sterner stuff. And deprivation was way better than being tortured. She’d heard Joe and his father talk about waterboarding and other ways of extracting information from prisoners. They’d been trained to resist interrogation, to survive in situations such as this, but she hadn’t.
Still, she didn’t want to think about that right now.
Shuffling in a semicircle, she positioned herself as far from her previous spot as she could get. Her ankles twisted painfully in their metal bindings, but she didn’t want to have to sleep in a wet spot, so she stretched as far as she could, pulled down her trousers, tugged her underwear to the side, then relaxed.
Luckily, the cave had a gentle slant, so the liquid ran away from her.
Take that.
They couldn’t use that against her anymore.
She resumed her position, hugging herself to generate some heat, grateful for the lantern that offered a glimmer of light in the darkness. Without it she might have succumbed to the fear. She’d never been fond of the dark, not since her mother’s accident. Joe always left a light on in the hallway for her.
The cold was her biggest worry. If they didn’t give her a blanket or light a fire, there was a very real possibility she might succumb to hypothermia during the night. Then again, if she froze to death, she couldn’t give them the codes. That would stump them. Her snigger was tinged with hysteria.
The man didn’t come back again, obviously deciding to let her stew overnight. In the morning, when the cold, hunger and thirst had taken its toll, he’d try again.
Lily shut her eyes, giving in to the exhaustion. It would help if she could sleep through the worst of the cold. She was just dozing off when she heard a loud ruckus outside.
What was that?
Heart pounding, she squinted into the gloom. The lantern flickered in the draft, creating shadows around the cave. What the hell was going on out there?
There were a series of loud bangs.
She gasped. Was that gunfire?
Fully awake now, she huddled against the wall, trembling. Was this part of their plan? Had they come to frighten her, or worse, to harm her in some way in an attempt to get her to cooperate?
She yelped as she heard another burst of gunfire. It wasn’t continuous, but rather several short bursts followed by shouting and sporadic blasts of return fire.
Were they being attacked? Had the Afghan forces found her?
She held her breath, hardly daring to hope.
Holy crap, that was loud!
The shooting was right outside the entrance to the cave now. It reverberated off the stone interior, making her ears ring. The Taliban youth ran in, waving his weapon above his head, yelling at her in Pashto. She couldn’t understand him, but she did know it wasn’t good, so she curled up in a ball and tried to make herself as small a target as possible.
More yelling and shooting, then a beast of a man burst into the cave. He looked like something out of a futuristic horror movie, with a flashlight strapped around his head, a night vision scope covering half his face, and an enormous rifle aimed at the terrified Taliban fighter.
Before she had a chance to shout out, the beast pulled the trigger and cut the young man down in two short bursts from his gun.
Then he turned it on her.