“I just want to survive for my children.”
“You’re going somewhere, Sheikh Sahib?” Fiaz-ul-Muhabat asked as he indicated the luggage stacked up in the hallway.
“We’re going to the fair,” Zakiya said quickly. “This is just a bit of spring cleaning, sending some bits and pieces back home.”
“Spring cleaning in fall?” Rafiq Afridi smirked. “And what about you, Mirza Ali? Where do you think you’re going today?”
“To the fair, Rafiq Sahib!” the man stammered, clearly terrified by the sudden raid.
“And who are these two men?” Clooney asked, indicating the two Arabs who stood back watching this strange intrusion. “They were with you at the meeting at Tariq Khan’s house on the farm yesterday; weren’t they?”
“These gentlemen are my guests from Jeddah! Why are you acting so weird!” Sheikh Sahib snarled. “We welcomed you into our home; what is going on?”
“Perhaps you could enlighten us, Sheikh Sahib! What’s going on?” Clooney replied assertively. “Perhaps you can begin with the chain of events that led to the brutal murder of my son, Ron!”
“And the kidnapping of my son Ahmad, who has been held by your people for five long years!” Chief Naseer Husain added.
“What are you talking about? ” the man was red in the face. “I have been a generous benefactor to the people of this area. They run to me when they’re in need or have a problem. I don’t appreciate your questions and behavior! Please leave my house immediately!”
“Not before you answer our questions,” Clooney shot back. “Or perhaps, your man Mirza Ali will tell us what we want to know!”
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating!” the man shouted. “What I do know is that I have diplomatic immunity, and you aren’t treating me right. I’m going to call my ambassador immediately and inform him of your unfriendly conduct!”
Shahzad walked up to the man he once had so much respect for and kicked the phone out of his hand.
“How dare you, stupid punk?” the man raged, standing up to strike Shahzad. “Get out! Get out before I throw you out!”
“I dare!” Shahzad shouted. “I dare for the innocent people who you subjugate through deceit, while you live in the lap of luxury, benefitting from the Western culture you profess to despise!”
“And I have the official sanction of my government and yours to conduct this raid. Your antics have been observed for some time now; I’m placing you and your wife under arrest! And these two guests of yours!” Clooney announced. “You can resist or come quietly; what would you prefer?”
The man’s bluster evaporated, and he looked like a deflated balloon when he saw the handcuffs.
“I have done nothing!” Zakiya protested, “You cannot arrest me for something I haven’t done!”
“That’s not what Gulnoor told us,” Rafiq reminded. “You did visit her yesterday with Mirza Ali, didn’t you?”
“Like my husband, I do a lot of charity work; what does that half-dead fool know anyway?” she hissed viciously, backing away from the men who were ready to handcuff her. “You cannot touch a woman! You dare not put your hands on me!”
“As you please,” Shahzad replied and stepped out to signal for female reinforcements. Zakiya was stunned when Safia, Aisha, and Zeina stepped in with a couple of tough women cops.
“My daughter and I came to see your evil faces!” Safia stated as the woman struggled at seeing the handcuff. “You’re a mother, Zakiya! How could you have allowed me to suffer all these years when you could have ended my pain with just a word? My son was meant to die today and take many innocent lives with him! I pray Allah has a special place in Hell for you and your husband!”
“You’re people my father considers close friends,” Zeina glared at the couple in disgust. “He’ll be shocked by what you’ve done!”
There were no more words as the couple and their guests boarded a chopper that took them to Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan. The house, which the Saudi couple would never see again, was sealed and guarded.
A shivering Mirza Ali was escorted to the local military base to answer questions.
“Where are Mullah Shaheen and Abdullah?” he was asked repeatedly, and all he could say was, “I don’t know! I swear I don’t know!”
A lot had happened since the fair that morning. Ahmad had passed out, and it was Shahzad who had caught him as he fell. As Fiaz-ul-Muhabat tackled Qasim, he was stabbed a couple of times before his strong arms snatched the knife out of Qasim’s hand.
“I couldn’t see Ahmad taken away again. We’ve done so much to get him back and to see him hurt and lost was something I couldn’t allow. I realized that confronting Qasim was the only option for me,” Fiaz explained to the chief at the hospital. Ahmad was also given first aid and handed to his father and mother after a day in the hospital to help him regain his strength.
The parents couldn’t believe their precious son was back with them after five long torturous years of wondering and searching. Safia could not stop hugging and kissing her son, while the more reserved chief patted Ahmad over and over; as if he was trying to make sure he was real.
It was very confusing for Ahmad to understand what had happened. He assumed he was to die to be with his parents again. And yet, here he was, as alive as they were. Rebecca was the only one whom he recognized, and she explained to him a little bit about what was going on. He had been brainwashed for years by his Taliban captors, and it was impossible for him to make connections.
Ahmad was not used to independent thought, and his parents could see he was going through a difficult time understanding and adjusting. His persistent training to think only in a certain way from such an early age did not allow the introduction of new, unwanted thoughts and ideas to change the attitudes, values, and beliefs that he had.
As soon as Ahmad was in safe hands, the CIA had taken charge. They had been able to extract enough information out of Qasim, who squealed like the coward he was once the pressure was on. Mirza Ali sang like a bird, too, and they had all the information they needed to raid various Talib-e-Azad hideouts.
A crack team had gone back into the mountains in search of missing leaders. Their Intel was so good that within hours, the Lashkar came across five insurgents sitting around a campfire warming their icy hands. Winter was coming to the region, and it was cold in the mountains. Wrapped in thick shawls and pakols pulled low over their heads, the men were not expecting visitors, and their weapons stood against the cave wall, far from them.
A scuffle ensued, and the soldiers quickly apprehended the men.
“What do you want from us? We’re simple farmers?” the leader begged, feigning innocence.
“Simple farmers, really?” the colonel asked sarcastically. “I recognize you, Tariq Khan, a farmer, you may be, but you aren’t simple!”
“Where’s Mullah Shaheen?” countered Yousef, who had insisted on joining the raiding party.
Caught by surprise, the man stared at Yousef.
“You think you can just come here and be saviors?” Tariq Khan raged, remaining defiant as he struggled to break free from his restraints. “All you have caused by coming here is trouble.”
“If you move, the bullet will go right through you, and I won’t regret it a bit,” Yousef kicked the insurgent in the knees.
Tariq Khan staggered before he quickly straightened himself, trying to ignore the burning pain in his kneecaps.
“You caused more trouble by killing innocent people,” Khalid shouted. “You’re unhappy on the land that was given to you to make a conversion of your life for better; instead, you choose to betray the people who trust you!”
“Innocent? All infidels and people who work for them need a lesson,” one captive snarled like a cornered wild dog.
“Is that so, Mullah Jamali,” Clooney countered. “Is that why you’re running away like a frightened woman?”
He got no answer and laughed, “What are you doing here, Zain? Are you going to be the next suicide bomber for these cowards who use youngsters to commit their crimes? Don’t be a fool! Tell us where Mullah Shaheen is!”
“I don’t know!” the young man cried, and his teeth began to chatter.
“Take the boy away,” the colonel ordered. “He isn’t one of them; we’ll try to rehabilitate him and save him from being killed or becoming a monster!”
“Your rule here is short-lived; in time, you’ll be rejected and thrown out by the people,” Yousef taunted the insurgents.
“We’ll see,” Jamali scoffed. “If not here, we have lots of other fertile places where we can sow our seeds, and we’ll take a few of you with us!”
The four captives stood quietly in a line, stubbornly holding their heads high. Hatred was written all over their faces, but there was no fear.
“Perhaps you’d like to tell us where Mullah Shaheen is, Kamal Rehman?” Clooney asked the man who was surprised to be identified.
Kamal remained silent, and Clooney said: “How about you, Shamsher Khan, would you like to tell us where Mullah Shaheen is?”
There was silence, and the colonel signaled one of his men. The soldier nodded and moved in front of the four prisoners. He brought the butt of his rifle down on the foot of the first man, who squealed and hopped around in pain.
“Wait, wait, what do you want from us?” Shamsher Khan retorted, realizing that any injury to his foot would negate an escape.
“Shamsher Khan, I’ve been following you for quite some time,” Yousef admitted. “We know all about your dealings with the Saudis and the Taliban. We know about Sheikh Sahib also; he was arrested earlier today along with his wife!”
Shamsher Khan just stood quietly; his mind concentrated on his chance of escape.
“Where’s Mullah Shaheen?” Clooney asked.
“Last I heard he and his remaining friends were going south to Syria. You’ll never find him here,” Shamsher replied proudly.
“Going but not gone. Tell me where Shaheen is right now.” Clooney signaled his man to once again deal with Kamal, who was still moaning from the pain of his broken foot. “Try the other foot this time!”
“No! No! He was going to meet his sister at the hospital today, most probably right now,” interjected Kamal, who could barely manage one shattered foot, let alone two.
“Shut your mouth, you coward!” Shamsher shouted, and a butt of a rifle hit him in the jaw to stop him.
“Take them away,” Clooney shouted. “Leave the talker with me!”
The illness and its accompanying helplessness had made such changes in Gulnoor. In her mind’s eye, Rebecca could still see her from the early days of her capture, when Gulnoor moved around their camp as if she owned the place; how different she had looked back then. One thing Rebecca had learned from all her experiences here was that nothing remains permanent. She, too, had become so much less demanding; how she wished Ron could see her now: he would approve.
Gulnoor looked weak and tired. There were dark circles around her eyes, and her fair face had dark blotches. Today was another chemotherapy session; she felt sick and fatigued but had to bear this treatment for the next two months if she wanted to survive. Safia had sent a little food for the patient; she knew from Rebecca that Gulnoor had been like a mother to Ahmad and, in turn, she was now glad to look after Mohammed until Gulnoor was ready to take care of them again.
“Don’t worry, everything will be all right,” Rebecca hugged Gulnoor, holding her other hand, which did not have the IV drip. “Your boys are in good hands, for now. Get well for them!”
“I just want to survive for my children,” Gulnoor whispered, tears forming in her eyes. She managed a weak smile as a tiny tear escaped from her eye. What had happened? She came here this morning with Ammi and found Rebecca waiting for her. She had a million questions to ask but knew Rebecca would tell her everything in good time; besides, she lacked the energy to probe right now.
The chemotherapy cubicles had patients with IV needles in their arms. Everyone had relatives around them, and Rebecca saw the benefit of this strong social structure during this difficult time. It was important for Gulnoor to be supported by family too.
Rebecca was about to find Dr. Zara to ask her about the patient’s progress when she saw a familiar man limping through the doorway. At the same time, her phone rang, and she turned her face and drew the curtain of the cubicles hoping the man had not seen her.
“Rebecca!” Chief Naseer spoke on the phone. “Mullah Shaheen is visiting the hospital right now!”
“Yes, I just saw him walk in!” she whispered, not wanting to disturb Gulnoor.
“Try to get out of there; my men are about to grab him. Please be careful.”
“Chief, we have to get him here,” she insisted. “I’ll hold him if I have to!”
“He’s a dangerous man, Rebecca; you know that. He would not think twice about hurting you or killing you. He could take you as a hostage again. Don’t take any chances,” cautioned Chief Naseer.
“Chief, you get your men here. I’ll hold him till then.”
Rebecca hung up, feeling the situation had given her renewed energy. She had to make a last attempt to stop this madman who had turned too many lives upside down.
“This is my chance; he won’t do anything stupid in front of others…or would he? I have to stop him whatever the consequences!”