“People need every bit of help they can get.”
“What the hell is this?” Ismail stared ghastly ahead at the 14-foot high castle wall replete with battlements and a lookout tower next to the enormous steel gate.
“That’s the Sheikh Sahib’s house,” said Aisha proudly. “Isn’t it amazing?”
They entered the vast compound through two guarded gates and found themselves in a different world. Gone were the grays and browns of the dusty streets and unrelenting mountains; here, there was greenery, flowers and shady trees everywhere with delicate fountains dotted around the beautifully landscaped gardens. In the middle of it stood an impressive double story mansion.
Aisha timidly joined Adnan and Ismail, who walked around the house looking at the roof while the boy pointed out the solar panels.
“Who’s this?” Phil asked, wondering if he should shake the man’s hand who was waiting on the side of the house entrance. He had become cautious, especially after the incident at the airport when a little older adult came up with outstretched arms, and Phil hugged him; wasn’t that how guys greeted each other here? It turned out, the man was a porter offering his services, and the others had not stopped laughing at him!
“That’s Mirza Ali, the sheikh’s manager; they have a lot of staff!” Shahzad announced, indicating the men milling around the compound at discreet distances.
Mirza Ali motioned the guests to follow him to the gazebo in a shady spot in the garden.
“The whole house is powered by solar panels. Sheikh Sahib is an engineer himself and has shown me how it works,” Adnan said excitedly while he made himself comfortable on an antique wrought iron bench.
“Someday, we’ll have electricity in the whole village. No power outages then! If I win the science competition, I’ll get 100 dollars with which I can start a business of making solar panels.”
“You’re very ambitious,” Ismail smiled. “Go for it once you have a good plan!”
“Adnan, as I’ve promised you before, if you win, I’ll be your partner for the solar panel business!” the sheikh offered as he joined them.
The tall, bearded man had a booming voice and a charming presence. Elegantly dressed in the traditional clothes, he cut an impressive figure in a loose white long shirt with a plain brown vest over baggy pants. He did not wear a turban but had a red and white checked keffiyeh tied around his head.
Adnan beamed at him, and Aisha was happy too, proud to have the sheikh meet the foreigners. She thought of him as a prince with his impressive height and sparkling brown eyes. She even made the introductions as Shahzad remained quiet after greeting the sheikh.
“Ahlan Wa Sahlan! Welcome to my humble home,” he greeted his guests, who smiled at his studied humility. “So kind of you to visit! Ah, Roddy, how good to see you again!”
“Ahlan, my friend,” Roddy replied as he shook the sheikh’s hand.
“As-Salaam-Alaikum, Sheikh Sahib, I’m Ismail,” Ismail said and shook the man’s hand with noticeable respect.
“Wa-Alaikum-Salaam, Ismail! It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance!” the man was pleased by the greeting.
Phil watched and wished he had done the same instead of offering a perfunctory handshake and a “How do you do?”
Aisha was amused to see Zeina turn red when the sheikh bowed to her. Zeina put her hand on her heart and nodded to acknowledge his greeting.
Shahzad was just about to leave when Zakiya, Sheikh Sahib’s beautiful wife, who the brother and sister called Aunty, arrived with a couple of servants carrying trays of assorted drinks and snacks.
“You cannot leave without having something, Shahzad Baita,” she insisted.
Zakiya and the sheikh made a perfect pair. Her exquisite features with lively eyes and dark skin were striking. Wearing an embroidered, red silk caftan and gold bangles and earrings, she was a picture of elegance. Aisha ran up to her and hugged her.
“How’s my favorite girl?” she hugged and kissed the girl affectionately,
“I’m well, thank you, Aunty,” Aisha gushed, nodding happily.
“Sheikh Sahib, how long have you lived here?” Phil inquired.
“I came to this region to expand our family’s oil business. My family has been doing business here for years, and we’ve always had this house. We’re actually from Saudi Arabia,” he said and looked at Zeina. “From the north.”
They exchanged pleasantries, making connections through people they knew back in the kingdom.
“So, how can I help you?” Sheikh responded, looking at Zeina.
“Sheikh Sahib, my dad sent his respects and asked me to meet you,” Zeina recalled. “As you most probably know, we need to find our fellow UN worker, Rebecca Fainey, who’s also a close friend of Phil’s; she survived a bomb blast, and we think she’d being held hostage by the Talib-e-Azad. We’d greatly appreciate any advice and assistance you can give us.”
“Of course! We’re all here to help you find your colleague and to find little Ahmad too,” Sheikh Sahib added, looking at Aisha and smiling at her. “I have a fully-equipped office here which you can use for meetings to make plans, do research, or send communications.”
“We’ve been playing with the idea of going into the mountains to follow the leads that we’ve received so far on Talib-e-Azad,” Phil suggested.
“That, I’m sure, will be necessary, but you must take care,” Sheikh cautioned, leaning forward. A large gold ring with a central black stone caught the light as he gestured. “Let’s think about it. And after consulting with Naseer Sahib, let’s meet back here again? Allow me to show you around so that you can treat this place as your office.”
“Sheikh Sahib, we need to leave now,” Shahzad implored as he got up with Aisha following him. “Rafiq Afridi should be here in an hour to pick up our guests. We’ll talk to my father in the evening, and Insha Allah, meet again soon.”
“Where are you both going?” Zeina pressed, looking at Aisha.
“We’re going to Khar. I’m always hoping for news of my little brother,” she said, feeling important.
“This is a picture of Ahmad. I go around showing this to anyone who’ll listen; asking if they’ve seen him,” Aisha took out a picture from her backpack and presented it to the guests.
She stared at Phil and Zeina and saw genuine sympathy and interest on their faces. Encouraged, she continued, “A few times, we’ve met people who think they have seen him, but we’re still hoping that one day we’ll get a lead strong enough to get him back. Today I want to go to the Civil Hospital because people come there from all around the region for medical help; maybe even people from the mountains.”
“That’s a firm commitment you have, Aisha,” Zeina praised. “Do you think I can join you someday?” Zeina gazed hopefully at Shahzad and then at Aisha, and they both nodded.
“Whenever you’re going next time, let me know. I’m always searching for an excuse to look around,” Zeina offered eagerly.
“Aisha, here’s Rebecca’s picture,” Phil demonstrated, opening his wallet and pulling out a photo. He glanced at the picture before handing it over, and Aisha took it very delicately, understanding how precious such reminders of lost loved ones were.
“Let me make a copy; I’ll take good care of it and give it back to you this evening,” Aisha promised. “We can show both pictures around; if anyone has seen either, it’ll help us find them.”
Zakiya hugged Aisha again after she escorted them to the van. Zakiya whispered in the girl’s ear: “I hope you find some positive clues today, Aisha. Insha Allah, Ahmad will be with us soon.”
It was late evening when Chief Naseer, who had been attending an important jirga in a neighboring city, returned home. He greeted his guests warmly with profuse apologies for his unavoidable absence. He was tall and stocky, with a soft yet authoritative voice. With his well-trimmed hair and beard, peppered with grey, he made an older version of his handsome young son.
After dinner, they sat in a circle on large cushions on the marble-tiled courtyard, apart from the other guests, who understood they had some business to discuss. Sharing a delicious dessert made of nuts that the chieftain had brought back with him, the discussions began in earnest. Adnan was told to go and occupy himself elsewhere, and he walked off angrily, hating being treated like a child.
Chief Naseer and Ismail talked as if they had known each other for a long time, and Phil envied Ismail’s familiarity with the culture.
“Let me tell you a little bit about our situation here. The tribal leaders of the FATA valley need to take care of themselves, and we formed the Lashkar for just that reason. We’re a council of seven leaders who run the Lashkar and have been doing it for the last 16 years. We’ve taken it upon ourselves to make sure that justice and our peaceful way of life are protected,” he emphasized, observing around to make sure everyone was listening and understanding.
“To achieve that, there are a couple of things we do to stop the unlawful activity and to encourage our tribal ways of life. We have about 200 villagers who have volunteered to fight, should the need arise. We also give land and protection to selected displaced families. As you probably know, our region has seen tough times, and people need every bit of help they can get.”
Talk turned to their current problems, and Phil noticed the critical tone of the discussions as a primary picture of the situation emerged. It was sobering to see the facts and options laid bare in front of them. If anyone imagined this was going to be a cakewalk up the mountains to recover Rebecca, they would have to think again.
“We have a spy among us,” Naseer Husain announced, lowering the mood even further. “This individual is working with the Talib-e-Azad and perhaps others; important information is being leaked, which is why the enemy remains a step ahead of us. All our efforts are at risk of amounting to nothing if we don’t locate the infiltrator!”
“Abba, how did you find out?” Shahzad asked worriedly; the thought that someone among them was a traitor was a shocking reality.
“Well, I discovered about leaks; that’s what’s important,” the man replied firmly, probably not wanting to give away the names of secret connections and informants. “It could be anyone who has close contact with us; in fact, I believe this man to be in our midst.”
“Or woman,” Zeina remarked.
“Highly unlikely, but possible,” Rafiq Afridi replied. “We don’t discuss important business with women; no offense meant Zeina Bibi, but that’s how we operate.”
“I’m here sitting among you,” Zeina pointed out.
“You’re an exception, Bibi,” he smiled.
“I’m aware of this since our male-dominated way of life is pretty similar,” she grinned. “But there could be other exceptions; women aren’t averse to eavesdropping or finding out information from their husbands.”
“You’ve raised a valid point, Bibi,” Chief Husain agreed. “We must be mindful of all the possibilities. With so many people around, it’s hard to tell who the culprit is. Anyone from our large Lashkar could be, how do you say, a rotten apple in the barrel? We’re quite sure someone is leaking information. There’s leakage of our private council talks and secrets. All the signs point to the fact that we are compromised and have to proceed with caution in whatever we do or say.”
“I’m assuming all the council people are reliable since they’ve been with you for many years,” Roddy said. “One possibility could be that someone in the council is bugged?”
“Bugged? What does that mean?”
“Nowadays, and I’ve witnessed that in many places, people have been using electronic devices to eavesdrop on conversations. The devices, though few, have been seen around this area,” Roddy nodded.
“Well, I never thought of that; perhaps someone is listening to us with one of these devices as we speak,” replied Naseer as he narrowed his eyes. “But then again, they could be gathering their information by more … more traditional means.”
Everyone seemed to nod their understanding of what he meant and its implications; their dilemma was not going to be an easy one to resolve, and they must tread with extreme caution.
“Let me say this,” the chief continued. “I’m very pleased to have you all here; your presence makes me feel more confident about the chances of finding our loved ones. As you know, we’ve tried to find my son Ahmad too, for the last five years, with no result. Now we need to change tactics. What we have working for us now is the publicity that your captive friend has received. People are becoming more aware and interested in our situation too.”
“That’s true,” Phil added. “We represent the UN, and we also have a contact in the CIA. My missing friend’s colleague who died in the bombing had a father who worked for the CIA in Peshawar, and he has promised to help us.”
Phil did not miss the look that passed between Chief Naseer, Rafiq, and Roddy.
“Phil, do you realize that the CIA activity in the area could have been the reason for the bombing,” Roddy stated to Phil.
“Yes, I’m very aware of this; it should be all the more reason for the CIA to help us,” he replied, and Naseer just nodded.
“What else do we have? I have some ideas we can investigate, but we need to do that very secretively. I haven’t shared this information even with the council as I knew you would be coming, and I wanted to talk to you’ll first…,” the man looked tired and asked Shahzad to tell his mother to arrange for some tea for everyone. Once his son had gone into the house, Naseer looked at Zeina.
“Sheikh Sahib was talking about your father’s possible influence and conveyed his offer of help to me. Thank you for that.”
“We could use all the help we can get,” he continued and bowed to Zeina. Zeina nodded and bowed in return.
Shahzad returned, followed by a servant carrying a large flask of hot tea and cups hooked onto his fingers, deftly balancing a bowl of sugar and teaspoons with the other hand.
“Abba, we were thinking of going out into the mountains ourselves,” Shahzad revealed as he sipped the steaming brew.
“Tell me more, my son,” Naseer indulgently requested as he poured himself another cup of the hot milky brew, stirring in two teaspoons of sugar. “Tell me what you plan to do.”