Page 12 of Deadly Betrayal

“Man, I’m tired.” Nic brought the can to hislips and drank like someone who’d been in the desert withoutsupplies for days. Kaden knew the feeling. Jet lag was hitting themall.

Jake flopped onto a padded armchair. “So,what’s the plan?”

Kaden stood in front of the large window,which he’d been assured had a blast-proof film on it and swallowedhis drink, letting the cool liquid wash away the dust and drynessfrom the airplanes. At this height, he could see a good chunk ofKabul, including Kabul’s Old City, where his team had beenambushed. Where he’d been shot. Where Sanchez had been killed. Theold anger roused to life in his gut. He’d get to that, but notyet.

Stepping away from the window, he faced thetwo men. “First, I’m going to call Shahram and confirm whereAzita’s clinic is. Then I’m going to pay her a visit and see whatshe knows.”

“Guns,” Jake said. “We need guns.”

“I’ve still got some contacts here. I’ll getus some weapons.” Except he’d have to stash them somewhere outsidethe hotel since all visitors and bags had to pass through a metaldetector at the entrance. After finishing off his soft drink, hegrabbed his pack and selected one of the suite’s bedrooms forhimself. He tossed his luggage onto the bed and pulled out one ofthe three disposable phones he’d picked up at the airport. After acouple rings, Shahram answered. Kaden didn’t wait for him to speak.“Shahram, it’s me. Where is she?”

“Where areyou?”

“In town. That’s all you need to know.”

Shahram’s voice was high with disbelief. “Iam about to tell you where to find my sister, and you do not trustme?”

Kaden clenched his teeth. “I’m not alone, andthe people I’m with need to be protected.”

“People? Like this situation was not volatileenough.”

Kaden pulled the phone away from his ear andstared at it. Azita’s brother seemed much more hostile than whenthey’d last spoken. “Did something happen?”

“Other than the constant threats to Azita’ssafety, no.” Shahram let out a loud breath. “Forgive me. I have notbeen sleeping well.”

“Understandable. These other people who camewith me, they’re my cover. The borders aren’t exactly open toforeigners these days.”

“Of course. I am sorry. Azita is at thewomen’s clinic in the Jamal Mena neighborhood. Khalid sometimespicks her up in the late afternoon, so you had best see hersoon.”

After confirming the directions to theclinic, Kaden stuffed the phone along with some cash into hispocket. When he returned to the living room, Nic was stretched outon the couch sound asleep while Jake stared out the window.

“We can see the spot from here,” Jake said,his words hushed.

“I know.”

When Jake turned around, his eyes were filledwith worry and anger.

“We’ll find out who betrayed us,” Kaden said,and squeezed Jake’s shoulder. Then he pointed to Nic. “Don’t lethim sleep too long, or he’ll have jet lag for days.”

Jake closed his eyes. “I remember.”

And wasn’t that the truth. Every second ofhis final eighteen-month tour with Delta Force was burned intoKaden’s gray matter. Every moment except the twelve hours afterhe’d been shot in the chest and had lain unconscious.

“I’ll be back by 1900 hours.” He handed hispassport to Jake for safekeeping. Then, carefully, so as not toalert the guests in neighboring rooms of his departure, he closedthe suite door and headed for the elevator, noting the placement ofthe surveillance cameras. Tight security was good, but he’d feel ahell of a lot safer if he knew who sat on the other side of thatequipment. This hotel could be crawling with men who’d swornallegiance to one warlord or another. Men who’d think nothing ofkidnapping a movie star to gain recognition for their cause.

On the other hand, Nic was a lot safer herethan anywhere else in the city. The hotel’s Dubai owners wouldn’tappreciate the negative publicity if something were to happen toone of their most high-profile guests. They were,first andforemost, businessmen.

As he wandered through the lower nine floorsthat constituted the Kabul City Center Mall, Kaden kept an eye outfor anyone suspicious as well as for anything that he could use asa disguise. But it was useless. The boutiques catered toexpatriates and the upper echelon of Kabul society. People withmoney who were looking for a piece of the West, not a piece ofAfghanistan.

Heading outside, Kaden clung to the shadowsof the buildings, taking in the chaos that was Kabul inmidafternoon—the noise, the smells, the press of bodies. Unwelcomememories flooded him, and his forehead beaded with sweat despitethe cool autumn air.

Ducking into an alley, he leaned a handagainst the sooty wall and slowly filled his lungs, then exhaled.He wasn’t in the military anymore. No one had reason to betray him.He wasn’t dragging his buddies into an ambush. This wasn’t twoyears ago. This was today, and he was here as a civilian to helpanother civilian.

Once he was calm again, he rejoined thethrong on the sidewalk and began the three-mile trek to Azita’sclinic. On the way, he passed various stores selling local men’sclothing. He could walk into one and buy what he needed, but thatwould attract more attention than he could handle right now. Theshopkeepers would probably have the Kabul City Police trailing himwithin minutes. Just for fun.

At the edge of a large park, he spotted a manbegging. Although he was one of dozens Kaden had seen in the shortdistance from the hotel, this man stood out. For one thing, he hadto be close to six feet tall, unusual in this country. For another,he seemed very ill at ease, as though he were new to panhandling.And judging by the tailored fit and cleanliness of his clothing,this man was likely newly poor.

A plan gelled.