Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
L ogan left at 0400. Jess knew he didn’t want anyone, other than Chris, to know the depth of their relationship. She promised him to put the wooden bar down on the door the moment he silently slipped out into the night, heading for his own hut. She couldn’t sleep after that, felt depressed, and took her antibiotic. Logan had stressed she should keep the bottle on her person, so she put it into one of her jacket’s pockets. She kept busy by finishing the packing of her duffle bag. Logan would come by later, after she’d had her meeting with Brad. Where were the new orders taking her?
Jess pushed back tears. She hated leaving her Seabee crew. They were tight. They worked together like a well-oiled machine. They were just damn good at what they did. And now, she wondered if the DOD orders would place her back at Port Hueneme Naval Mobile Construction Battalion in California. That would make perfect sense, being about as far out of harm’s way as one could get. And that would be a career killer for her. Now that the DOD knew about her, knew she was on the Taliban’s radar, Jess wondered if she’d be reassigned anywhere but a “safe” place ever again. Or, instead, placed in an endless series of backwater posts, on other continents where she wasn’t a target. That meant a whole new crew each time, a new lieutenant to work under, and starting all over again. All that seemed too daunting to Jess to dwell on right now. She had to give herself a break from everything that was happening to her. She had the age and maturity to know that, sometimes, life became a ball of unraveling yarn. Right now, the best thing she could do is just have blind faith that it would all work out in the end for her.
Once she’d finished packing her duffle, which weighed a good eighty pounds by the time she was done, she pushed it back into its corner with the toe of her boot. Her heart ached for so many reasons. Peeking out the lone window, wincing only slightly as she did her ponytail, she saw it was dawn, around 0500. By 0600 her crew would have eaten and they would start their day of drilling. Without her.
She needed to empty out the bowl of dirty bathing water. Trying to manhandle the thick, heavy wooden bar open was always more work than it should be. Lifting it out of its brace, and then up out of the way of the door, would be easy with two hands. Impatient, she removed the sling. Her arm hurt, but not like before and she pursed her lips; a bit of good news. Her arm free, she took the opportunity to carefully shrug on her trusty old, tattered Levi jacket, as it would be cold outside. Then she wrangled the drop bar up and pushed the door open with her boot. With two hands, it was easy to carry the bowl of water outside.
The coolness of the night invaded her far warmer hut. The dawn light was grayish, and she could see the peaks of the Hindu Kush becoming illuminated as the sun marched closer to this corner of the world. As she carefully took the large bowl in her hands, not wanting to slop the water on her uniform, Jess heard a child crying nearby.
Frowning, she looked around as she emptied the water outside the hut. It was unusual for children to be up and about at this hour. The child’s cry was coming from the stand of bushes across the way, down from her hut. What on earth was going on? Jess set the bowl down. The sound of a young child crying, somewhere behind the grove, tugged at her heart. Unable to see the child, she hurried toward the stand for a closer look. The village children played in this grove all the time. Usually hide and seek. Had one of the families in the village had a toddler sneak out their door? Thinking it was time to play hide and seek, then getting turned around in the bushes, lost? That would explain the child’s piteous cry.
Mouth quirking, Jess hurried around the stand. She halted. Her heart slammed in her chest. Standing there, waiting for her, were three Taliban soldiers. All of them were near their horses, their AK-47s pointed at her. Oh, God….
Qader, nearest of the three to the American woman, glared at her. He saw her blanche, her face turning white. Instantly, he stepped forward, his AK-47 trained on her. He’d never seen her face up close before. Her left arm was not in a sling any longer, but he could see by her posture, the way she held it, that it troubled her. She was definitely the one they were after. Gripping her unwounded upper arm, he yanked her forward, right up in his face. He pressed one finger against her lips, savagely shaking his head in the unmistakable meaning of: you scream, you die .
Afir came up, quickly taking the pistol out of the holster she wore. He quickly frisked her for any other weapons, finding none. He nodded to Qader, who led up the extra horse they’d brought with them.
Terror sizzled through Jess. She saw the hatred on these men’s bearded faces. They were dressed like typical Afghan men. Except, they were heavily armed, and the looks they hurled silently at her were pure venom. She heard the child crying again and saw another soldier holding a little four-year-old girl who was terrified. They’d used the poor child as bait in the trap they’d set!
“Mount,” Qader told her in thick English, shoving her roughly forward.
No! There was no danger greater than being taken! Jess drew in breath to scream for help.
Afir’s fist exploded in her face.
Jess felt the pain roar through her left cheek. She was falling backward from the blow, the attempted scream never leaving her mouth. Instead, she merely grunted as she felt herself falling, her knees suddenly buckling beneath her. She hit the ground hard, the impact sending a shock through her entire frame, jarring loose something unnoticed by both her and the men from her jacket pocket to roll away.
Strong, hurting hands gripped her upper arms. She felt a cloth being pulled hard between her lips, tightened, so she could not make any sounds. Pain roared into her wounded arm as they jerked her wrists together in front of her. Harsh ropes were wrapped around them, tightened, another bolt of agony. She was hauled up to her feet, semiconscious from the blow to her face.
Qader made a jerking motion of get the woman on the horse ! He had his other soldier roughly set the crying child down in the dirt. Quickly, they pushed the dazed American woman up into the saddle of the bay horse, the spare. She was wobbling in the saddle. Afir roped her bound hands to the saddle so she couldn’t fall off. He held the reins of the nervous horse and, gripping them tightly, mounted his black gelding next to it. They had to get out of here now ! Before they were discovered!
Jess felt her horse leap forward, trotting strongly. She lifted her head, her entire cheek throbbing with pain and swelling. The leader with his black beard and hate-filled brown eyes, rode at the head of the pack. Her horse’s reins were in the hands of a second soldier riding ahead of Jess, and two other men rode behind her. Stunned by the blow, her left arm aching, Jess tried to pull free of the bonds that held her wrists to the saddle. Terror arced through her as, the moment they were clear of the village, the group whipped their horses into a hard gallop, heading for the taller, rockier hills just ahead of them. She wanted to scream. To alert the A-team, or anyone else who might be up at this hour. The gag cutting cruelly across her face made it impossible.
There was no commotion from the village, nor any sign of pursuit; The A-team soldiers who walked the village on patrol had not seen her being kidnapped! She closed her eyes, feeling the movement of the horse beneath her. The animal was moving at top speed, the cold morning wind tearing past her face, making tears leak from her eyes. She was in the worst trouble of her life. Stupidly, carelessly , she’d fallen for a trap set for her by the lead man, surely Khogani, and his soldiers. What was going to happen next? Her mind spun but kept shorting out due to the blow to her cheek. Logan! He would come after her! Jess knew he would. But how long would it be before he even knew she was gone? Logan was coming to see her at 0600, an hour from now .
The brown hills loomed before them. Jess felt the rawness of the bonds abrading into her wrists. Her fingers were going numb through loss of circulation. They rounded the first big hill, galloping hard. Up ahead, she saw a trail that snaked up into the slopes of the Hindu Kush, up into the trees dotting down from where they abruptly ended far above, around ten thousand feet. A sinking, terrified feeling pervaded her adrenaline-charged body. What if Logan couldn’t find her? They had no drone eyes. Only a satellite that passed overhead once a day. Her mind rocked with gnawing, gut-eating fear. These were Hill tribesmen, and they knew the mountains and their caves like few ever would. They could hide her. No one would see her. And then, she’d be taken across the Pak border, to be lost among the millions there, never to be seen again.
Logan was barely awake in the hut where he and Chris slept, when there was frantic pounding at their wooden door. What the hell? He quickly got up, opening it. A young mother, her head covered with a scarf, her eyes terrified, started speaking swiftly in Pashto to him. She was crying, her tears disappearing beneath the scarf across her nose and cheeks. The tone of her words was pleading, filled with fear.
Chris sat up. “What’s going on?” he muttered, rubbing his face.
“I don’t know,” Logan said. He knew it was unusual for a woman to be coming alone to a male stranger. Muslim law forbade it. So, what the hell was going on? Logan pushed out of the door because the woman was pointing repeatedly at the grove down at the end of the village. He turned, seeing the woman’s husband running toward him, his eyes also wide and filled with fear. Logan caught sight of one of the three A-team sergeants who patrolled the village throughout the night hours. He gestured for the man to come over. One good thing was that Special Forces teams always had one or more members who spoke the local language. In this case, Pashto.
The husband of the upset woman stood by her side, frantically looking around. He was fearful and he kept trying to speak to Logan, who didn’t have a clue as to what he was saying. The sergeant, Lloyd Magaw, ambled over.
“’Morning,” Magaw said, his hands resting across the weapon that hung around his neck.
“Hey,” Logan greeted, “this woman came banging on our door. Can you find out what she’s upset about?”
“Yeah,” Magaw said. He focused on the husband and asked in Pashto why his wife was so upset. Why had she come to the SEALs’ house?
Logan saw the Special Forces sergeant begin to scowl, and lifted his head, studying the grove. A bad feeling crawled through his gut.
“Hey,” Magaw said, “go check on Jess? This guy said two Hill tribesmen broke into their home earlier this morning, took their four-year-old daughter. They warned them to stay in the house or they’d kill their child.”
Scowling, Logan said, “Why would they do that?” He ducked back into the hut and quickly retrieved his M4 rifle.
Magaw shrugged. “They kidnap children, too, unfortunately. Come on, you check on Courtland. We need to set up a search, try to find their child.”
Logan nodded, trotting down and across the dirt road toward Jess’s hut. Something was wrong. Had Khogani and his men found her house secure? Unable to get in? Had they gone to this farmer’s house and stolen a little girl instead? He didn’t know, but his gut tightened with foreboding. Shit , his instincts were rarely wrong. As he broke from a trot into a run down the road, he heard Chris coming up behind him. He came abreast of Logan, his M4 at the ready in firing position.
“Those bastards could still be in the village,” Chris huffed. “I just woke up LT Anderson, gave him the info. We’re going on full alert.”
Nodding, Logan neared Jess’s house. They halted as they came around the corner. The door was wide open. Logan spotted the metal bowl on the ground nearby.
“Jess?” he called, heading for the door. “Jess!”
Logan shoved the partially opened door aside. Ducking his head in quickly, he didn’t see her in the hut. What the hell? His heart stopped. There on the table was her sling for her wounded arm.
“Hey,” Chris called, “come out here, Logan.”
Logan emerged, scowling. And then he heard it. A child crying.
Chris was giving him a signal to move to the other end of the grove as he headed toward the nearest end of it. Quickly and silently, Logan made his way around the thicket. There, in the middle of the small clearing behind the grove, was a little girl sitting and wailing. He saw Chris come around the other side, weapon up. They both lowered their guns slightly and ran toward the terrified child.
Logan picked up the little girl. Huge tear tracks streaked down her dusty face, and she cried even more when he held her. Looking around, Logan saw no one else. What the hell was going on? Where was Jess?
The mother and father of the child ran up to him. Logan handed off the screaming child to them. She was in no condition to tell them anything. Magaw joined them, also looking around.
“Have you seen Jess?” Logan demanded of the sergeant.
“No. Why?”
“Because she’s not in her hut,” Logan growled. Holding up the sling up, he said, “This is her sling for her arm. She always wore it and it was in the hut.” He began to look around at the prints on the dusty ground. And then, his heart tumbled. Down over the bank of the clearing, he saw something small, white and cylindrical. Sliding down the small slope, he recognized the object as Jess’s antibiotics bottle. Picking it up, he felt as if the world had just been yanked out from beneath him. Lifting the pill bottle up, he saw Chris shake his head in angry frustration, recognizing it immediately.
“They’ve kidnapped Jess,” Logan yelled. He jammed the toes of his boots into the loose yellow soil, pocketing the bottle of antibiotics, quickly making his way back up to the grove.
Chris got on the radio, informing Anderson and Parker. His face remained hard.
Magaw looked at the bottle as Logan showed it to him. “They set her up,” he growled, pissed. “Stole the little girl, set her out here to start crying and, probably when Jess came out of her hut, she heard the ruckus, went and investigated it.”
Logan wanted to scream, but he quickly shoved all his emotions deep down inside himself. He couldn’t do Jess any good that way. He had to think. Following the muddy horse tracks, he knelt down near the end of the grove. His heart plummeted. There was Jess’s boot imprint! She wore special construction boots that had steel lining in the sole, different from the standard combat boots everyone else wore. Chris leaned over him.
“It’s her bootprint alright,” he confirmed, his voice low.
“Yeah,” Logan growled.” He stood up, looking at the mix of horse prints trailing away from the village. “They’ve got her…”
Qader smiled to himself as he whipped his hard-working horse lunging and leaping upward through the trees and brush on the slope of the mountain. The sun was going to come over the peaks soon, and he wanted to be hidden in a cave by that time. Afir was behind him, leading the terrified-looking American woman. He was going to have to reward Afir for his subtle strategy of luring the woman out of the hut. A child would always get a woman’s attention. And, just as Afir had predicted, the American woman had come to the grove to try and find the crying brat. And she’d walked right into their hands. It was a perfect trap, executed flawlessly.
He wasn’t celebrating too much just yet though. Qader knew there were drones in the desert skies. He wasn’t sure if there was one in the valley or not. But one thing he was sure of, once the American soldiers in the village discovered this woman missing, they would be sending Apache helicopters overhead with infrared tracking ability to try and pick up their body-heat signatures. And then, they’d either send truckloads lot of trouble after them, or just rain down hell then and there. Mouth thinning, he rubbed his beard and whipped his horse on the rump again, hearing the animal grunt as it lunged upward through the steep wadi , or ravine. If they didn’t hide soon, the coming Apache’s would locate them. And then, if they valued the woman enough to not just blow her away along with him and his men, Qader knew they would send those damned SEALs after them. SEALS were relentless. Looking up, he saw the large cave he was aiming for, mostly hidden by trees, about five hundred feet above them. At the top of the wadi , was the entrance. Their horses were laboring, sweaty, foam covering their necks and haunches.
Jess could no longer feel her hands at all. They were a bloodless white, the tight bonds shutting off her circulation. Her left arm screamed unremittingly. Luckily, she could not feel any blood running down inside the sleeve of her jacket. It was cold and she shivered, unprepared for this kind of temperature drop. Surrounded by woods and brush, the horses kept pushing up the steep and rocky wadi . Up ahead, she saw the black maw of a cave mostly hidden by trees. She had no idea how long they’d ridden, only that her bruised legs ached, being as completely unused to riding a horse as she was. Her cheek was throbbing. Thirsty, she longed for a drink of water. What were these men going to do to her? Jess tried to think. She’d never taken the SERE course, the grueling two-week escape-and-evasion course given to men and women who fought in danger zones, and could potentially be captured in battle, or caught behind enemy lines. No one put Seabees through SERE; the likelihood of them getting captured was too low. She knew next to nothing about how to escape! But she had to do something . She wasn’t going to be taken to Pakistan. No friggin’ way.
Looking up, reading the now-medium-blue sky and the angle of the sun’s rays on the white clouds drifting over the summit far above, she knew Logan would know by now that she had been kidnapped. He’d do something. He’d put things into motion. Could they find her in time? Her horse scrambled up out of the wadi and, in moments, Jess found herself riding into a vast, wide cave that was at least ten feet high and forty feet long. For the most part, it was hidden from the outside world.
The man holding the reins of her horse turned in a tight circle and rode up alongside her. He glared at her as he pulled her horse to a stop. Jess saw the rest of the men dismounting, encircling her. Her mouth went dry with terror. The leader, with his black beard and brown, wool rolled cap, stood with his hands on his hips. He looked her up and down, as if she were a piece of meat. A knotted feeling made her stomach ache.
“Get her down!” Qader ordered Afir.
Jess saw the soldier with a dark blue turban, the one who had the reins to her horse, walk over to her. He untied her hands from the saddle. And then, he snarled something at her, grabbed her left arm, jerking her off the horse and throwing her to the ground.
A gagged cry tore out of Jess, pain arcing up her wounded arm. She slammed into the dirt with an omhph . Jess tried to scramble up out of her vulnerable prone position, but her legs had no strength after the punishing ride. The man grabbed her by her ponytail, jerking her upright. Jess bit back another cry, pain radiating all over her scalp. He slammed her up against the sweaty, hard-breathing horse. The smile on his face filled her with even more terror as he held her put by her hair while the other man in the rolled cap sauntered over, smiling at her.
Qader didn’t like the fact the American woman was taller than any of them. She was like a giant, and he hated her even more. Her cheek was swollen where Afir had struck her earlier, and he could see that it was turning purple. The fear in her eyes made him smile more broadly. Good. She should be afraid. He remembered her wound. Had it reopened from the rough treatment and ride? Keeping in mind the Taliban wanted her alive, he growled to Afir, “Take her to the rear of the cave. Check that her wound hasn’t torn open. I don’t want her dying on us before we deliver her.”
Grunting, Afir said, “Yes, my lord.” He released her hair and shoved her forward, past the horses.
“Make sure she is fed and watered,” Qader called. He saw Afir raise a hand without looking back, acknowledging his order. Turning, he snapped at his men to take their horses down another tunnel, to a deeper cave with a pool of water in it. There, the horses could drink their fill. Turning, he couldn’t help but feel hugely pleased about having the American woman in his grasp. Soon enough, he knew, the Apache helicopters would be flying overhead, searching for them. And they would never find them in this cave. He chuckled to himself, already counting in his mind the hundred thousand dollars the Taliban would give him for this bitch.
He saw Afir shove her down to the cave floor, pushing her back against the rough wall. She was properly terrified. As Qader approached, he saw her long, spare hands were fish-belly white, with blood crusting around her wrists.
“Afir, tie a rope around one of her ankles. Release her hands. She’s harmless and I don’t want her hands looking like that. It is better she arrives in better condition, not worse. I may be able to get more money for her.”
“Yes, my lord,” Afir muttered. He took his knife from its sheath, expertly cutting her bonds.
Jess gave a little cry, feeling the blood rush back into her hands, the pain of it pulsing and throbbing. She sat there, feeling hatred radiating off the soldier as he stalked away. She was free of bonds. But the man with the rolled cap stood in front of her, his arms across his narrow chest, intently studying her.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked her in halting English. He saw her eyes widen enormously as he spoke in her language. What? She thought the Taliban were stupid and illiterate! His smile deepened as she stared in shock up at him.
“I don’t know who you are,” she lied, trying to sound less frightened than she really was. What was he going to do with her? His black eyes were close set over a thin, fine nose. His black beard was long, dirty, and she could see bits of food tangled between the strands. The smell around him was that of sour male sweat. Jess swallowed hard, not knowing what he was going to do next with her.
“Qader Khogani,” he said. His smile dissolved. “Now that I’ve introduced myself. You must do the same.”
Her heart leaped in her chest. The Hill Tribe chieftain had lost his smile, becoming serious as he watched her like a bug under a microscope. Jess knew she didn’t dare make this man angry. Her military training kicked in; certain Geneva Convention protocols had to be followed. “I’m Petty Officer First Class Courtland, US Navy.”
He waved his hand. “Do not repeat your military serial number to me. What is your first name, woman?”
“Jessica.” She saw him smile, pleased that she’d cooperated.
“Very good. So, you are Jessica Courtland.” He saw Afir stalking back with a length of rope in his hand. “Well, you are my prisoner, woman. Afir is going to tie that rope around one of your ankles. I would just break it instead, but I can’t have you with broken bones, or have you die on me, before I take you to a certain Taliban warlord waiting for you in Pakistan. So, we will give you water, food and take care of your wound. Do not try my patience. If you try to escape, you will pay a very heavy price.” Qader smiled a little, watching Afir tighten the rope around her ankle. He then tied the other end of the ten-foot rope around a jagged outcropping of rock.
“Please,” Jess begged, “let me go?”
Qader laughed. “For a woman without a set of balls, you are outspoken.” His scowled. “You can say goodbye to the life you knew,” he snarled. “I own you now. And you will do exactly as I say, or you will be sorry.”
Afir didn’t know English, nor did any of the rest of his men. All the Khogani male children who were in line to lead the Hill Tribe, were forced to learn English. Afir let the foreign babble wash over him as he quickly set to work, jerking at her jacket, needing to take it off her so he could get at her left arm.
Jess gasped as the man grabbed the front of her jacket. Automatically, she threw up her arms, jerking away from him. Was he going to rape her? Adrenaline soared into her bloodstream as Jess pushed back with her heels, away from his hand. He snarled something she couldn’t understand. His hand whipped out like a snake striking, grabbing her by the neck, yanking her back toward him.
“Afir,” Qader cautioned in their native tongue, “be gentle. She doesn’t know what you want her to do. Let me tell her, so she doesn’t think you’re going to rape her, as she undoubtedly does,” and he chuckled.
“Jessica,” Qader said, “sit still. Afir only wants to get you out of the jacket so he can check your arm.”
Breathing raggedly, frozen, Jessica felt Afir’s hatred to her bones. His brown eyes were fixed on her with loathing as he crouched over her. Qader looked entertained. Giving a jerky nod, she realized she had no choice but to trust him at his word, worthless as it probably was. She gestured, hands moving to her jacket front, to indicate that she would take care of it herself. Afir stood up, snarling at her, waiting for her to get it off. With shaking hands, Jess sat up and unbuttoned her jacket with trembling fingers. Beneath it, she wore only a dark green t-shirt. She hadn’t even put a bra on yet, and more terror flowed through her at that realization as she worked to pull the jacket off.
Qader smiled as he watched the woman disrobe. Afir grabbed the jacket, kicking it aside, dust rising into the air, and jerked his finger to the ground, indicated she had to sit down. He hated the American woman. But most interesting were her full breasts against the tight fabric of her t-shirt. He saw pleasing terror in her eyes as he focused on those breasts. He crouched down, his Russian-made medical kit open at his feet.
Qader walked over, assessing her wound. It had not ripped open and seemed to be healing. He again felt rage. One of his stupid soldiers had shot her. If that hadn’t happened, he’d be sitting on a million-dollar captive right now.
“Are you thirsty?” Qader asked her as Afir cleaned around her wound for good measure and wrapped it.
Jess nodded, feeling pain radiating through her bicep but was relieved it was not bleeding. Afir was not gentle. He wanted to make her feel more pain than was necessary. He wrapped the cleaned wound expertly, to her amazement. Almost immediately the ache in her arm receded. To her relief, he got up, grabbing the medical kit, getting as far away from her as he could.
“Stand up! Get your jacket back on,” Qader ordered. There was relief in the woman’s eyes as she struggled to her feet and to get her jacket on to hide her breasts. He turned to Afir.
“Bring water and some food.” He saw his soldier’s deep scowl. If Afir were running this kidnapping, he’d probably beat the woman to death. There was no leniency in his captain’s face. An American drone strike had killed his entire family, his wife and four children. Afir had good reason to hate Americans. But Qader needed this woman alive and ready to go to a much worse fate. What the Taliban did with her after he handed her over, Qader didn’t care. He would have a hundred thousand dollars in his bank account. That’s all he wanted out of this trade.
More than anything, Jess was thirsty. She had no appetite. When Afir brought back a goatskin bag containing water, she gulped down the muddy-tasting liquid. In the back of her mind, she knew the water wasn’t purified, and that so many Afghans carried worms and other parasites in their gut. She didn’t care, her throat dry and her thirst overwhelming. Afir crouched nearby, watching her, a perpetual sneer on his thin lips. He pushed half a loaf of dried bread into her hands.
Jess took it, chewing on it, knowing that, if she was going to try and escape, she needed to stay hydrated and fed. Otherwise, her body would never carry her anywhere. Choking down the dry bread, she watched Afir rise. He turned, barking an echoing order across the large cave. She saw another, younger soldier come running. Qader was standing back, watching and saying nothing. He seemed interested in her and that scared Jess. He’d seen she wore no bra; seen her breasts visible beneath her t-shirt. She wanted to die of embarrassment, but the look in his eyes had terrified her as he’d studied her breasts openly, without apology. Were they going to rape her? The word sent more spasms of adrenaline through her.
Her mind and pounding heart turned to Logan. Surely, he knew by now something had happened to her? When none of them could find her in the village, he would know Khogani had kidnapped her. What could Logan do, though? Who would send help with him to locate her, and how much? More than anything, Jess knew Logan would turn hell on its ear to find her. And that’s what gave her hope. Just knowing Logan was out there, somewhere, made Jess hyperaware for a chance, any chance, at escape. The rope tied to her ankle left her hands free. And her hands were aching like fire itself, now that the blood was refilling their veins, the gnawing pain making her want to groan. She saw sunlight, bright and clean now, flooding the area in front of the cave. The sun had cleared the mountain range. What was Logan doing? Would he be able to find her?