Читать книгу Operation: Forbidden - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 9

“Come,” Khalid invited Emma as she walked into the spacious kitchen, “let’s go to the garage. I have my storehouse in there.” He tried to ignore the fact that she was now in civilian clothes, her red hair still damp from the shower and falling like fiery lava around her proud shoulders. Instead of a baggy olive-green flight suit, Emma now wore a tangerine-colored T-shirt with dark-brown trousers. On her, they looked good. Too good.

“I’ll follow,” Emma said firmly, gesturing for him to take the lead. Emma could smell the wonderful odor of lamb cooking with spices in the oven. With how Khalid’s light-blue polo shirt showed the breadth of his chest, Emma kept distance between them. He was just too much of a temptation.

Khalid opened the door to the storehouse and stepped aside to allow Emma to enter. He turned on the lights. Emma halted and stared around the cavernous three-car garage that held only the Land Rover right now. Along the walls in neat rows were thousands of books and boxes of educational items such as crayons, pencils, pens and notebooks.

“This is our vision,” Khalid said, closing the door and walking into the room. “Kinah and I bought state-of-the-art printing machines. We gathered a group of Afghan widows and trained them to print out the books for the children.” He went to one aisle, pulled out a book and opened it. “We’ve not only employed six women who had no way to earn any money. Now they are our printers and publisher. The books are written by the best authorities in education, according to Kinah. She worked a year to produce Pashto-written texts and pictures from grades one through twelve. It was a momentous challenge.”

Emma nodded but remained distant. She made sure there was plenty of space between them. She heard the pride in Khalid’s voice for his innovating and hardworking sister. “This is a major undertaking.”

Khalid nodded and slid the book back onto the shelf. “Yes, it is.” He gazed down at Emma and had a maddening urge to tangle his fingers in her damp red hair, which curled softly around her face. Did she know how fetching she looked with that coverlet of copper freckles across her nose and cheeks? Emma wore no make up, but didn’t need any. She was beautiful just as she was, Khalid’s heart whispered to him. But since he was marked for death, there was no way to fall in love with any woman, not even someone as tempting as Emma Cantrell. He focused on showing Emma the large room of supplies. “Once we begin Operation Book Worm, all the supplies will come from this location.

They will be marked, packed by another group of widows and then sent by truck to Bagram for us. From there, we put them aboard our CH-47 and fly them out to the villages.”

“And your sister Kinah?” Emma asked. “Where is she in all of this?”

“Right now my sister is working with leaders of the first ten villages along the border where we will set up the schools. She’s taking a roster of each child, his or her age, and how many children will be in each school.” Khalid said fondly, “My sister is a tempest. She never sits still. Kinah’s a fierce warrior for peace and the education of our people. She’s a fighter who has vision, strength, intelligence and courage.”

“She’d have to have all those things to do what she’s doing,” Emma agreed grimly, looking around in awe at the room. “Her life is always on the line out there. I’m sure you know that.”

Darkness came to Khalid’s normally sparkling blue eyes.

“Too aware. I have hired two of the best security guards I can find, but I still worry about her. She refuses to wear a flak jacket, which concerns me. We have ancient enemies out there.” His voice lowered. “I know Malik is hunting us, Emma. He’s just waiting to spring a trap to capture either or both of us. I worry it will happen when Kinah is alone and unable to defend herself… .”

“And yet, you have said Asad Malik has promised your death.” Emma looked around. “Where are your bodyguards?”

Khalid shrugged. “Now, you sound like my sister, Captain. She is always on me to have them.”

“Thanks for the tour, Khalid.” Emma sounded less military and slightly breathless. That irritated her a whole lot. Emma felt an unexpected yearning for him that was like a flowing stream that turned into a wild river within her. Khalid was too good to be true. Brody had never been a humanitarian and that’s where they were different. In Emma’s eyes and heart, Khalid was a true hero, fighting to lift his people out of abject poverty. He had the money, the position and resources to make it happen. There was a generosity so deep within him that it made Emma stand in awe of Khalid. How many men had she met that had all these qualities? Not many. All the more reason to remain at arm’s length from this fierce Afghan warrior.

“You’re welcome, Captain Cantrell. Now,” he said, glancing down at his watch, “I believe Rasa will have our dinner ready for us.”

Emma walked toward the door, dreading the meal. Hopefully, she asked, “Are you going to split us up? I’ll eat in the women’s quarter and you in the men’s?” In the Muslim world, men and women ate separately.

Khalid laughed and walked quickly to open the door before she got to it. “No. You are American and I honor the fact that Americans sit as families together. We’ll eat in the dining room.” He saw a wariness in her eyes and added, “Does this meet with your approval?” No longer could he afford to assume anything about this woman.

Emma kept her sedate demeanor. “This is not military protocol, Captain Shaheen. To tell you the truth, I’m a little uncomfortable with it all.” There, the truth was out. Emma noticed the genuine concern in his face and how much her words had hurt him. She knew how important it was for an Afghan to be a host. “But I’ll deal with it.”

“Yes?” Khalid said hopefully. “For I have no wish to offend you again.”

“I’m not offended.” Emma hoped she’d smoothed the situation over enough so they could have a quick dinner and she could make a run for her suite.

Asad Malik arrived in Kabul at 9:00 p.m. He and his men had met with a local Taliban sheik at a village outside Camp Bravo. He’d loaned them two pickup trucks so that they could speed their way to Kabul. The stars were bright and beautiful above him as they pulled up at the bottom of the hill where the Shaheen family home sat.

They got out of their pickups and quietly assembled near Malik. He put on a special pair of night goggles stolen from an American soldier during a heated battle. He liked these goggles because, suddenly, night became day. Everything was green and grainy, but he could see. This was the first time he’d ever been this close to the Shaheen estate. As he used binoculars and began a survey of the home, he realized it was going to be very hard to attack.

Ameen, his second in command, came up to him. “My lord, is there a way we can assault the home?”

Malik growled under his breath, “There’s heavy brush all around the hill. At the top, there is a ten-foot wall. And on top of the wall is concertina barbed wire.” Dropping the binoculars, he handed them to the young man, who wore a worn brown turban on his head. “Stay here. I’m going to look around. With these goggles, I’ll be able to see much more.” He picked up his rifle and melted into the night, leaving his men standing quietly by the trucks.