Page 16 of Deadly Betrayal

A vehicle pulled up in front of the clinic.Kaden paid the storekeeper for the book he had in his hand andmoved so he had a better visual on the sleek black Chryslermini-SUV. The clinic door opened and Azita hurried out to thevehicle. Given his expensive clothing and demeanor, the drivercould be none other than Khalid Mullazai. He was well-dressed, withtrimmed black hair and a short beard. His intelligent eyes watchedthe street as Azita slid into the back seat. The man shook hishead. The set of his jaw and the rigidness of his shoulders spokeof a certain ruthlessness. Azita’s guardian was a man who got hisway. And the thought that he might want his way with Azita madeKaden want to charge across the street and slam the man’s face intothe steering wheel of his fancy SUV.

Resignation on her face, Azita shut the backdoor and got into the passenger seat. Her eyes were downcast, herback stiff. God, she deserved so much better than this life. Khalidreached over and touched the side of her face. Kaden expected herto flinch, to shy away from the man, but she didn’t. She heldherself immobile, like a statue. Kaden stepped out of his hidingspot before he even realized what he was doing. In his mind, he wasalready breaking the bastard’s nose. Azita looked up then, her gazemeeting his. Her eyes widened and filled with fear.

He jerked back out of sight. She was right.The little worm wasn’t worth it. Kaden would just end up in jail,and Azita and her stepdaughter would be alone—in worse danger thanbefore he’d arrived.

As the vehicle disappeared into the lateafternoon traffic, heading north toward the wealthy Shahrak-e Arianeighborhood, Kaden took off in the opposite direction.

It was time to get armed.

A half hour later, he breathed a sigh ofrelief when he spotted the familiar tea house. He’d been worriedthat it had been a victim of the continued fighting with theTaliban forces. But no, the small ramshacklechai-khana,with its faded lettering on the scarred front window, had withstoodthe test of time and war.

Besides acquiring some weapons, he stillneeded to exchange his American dollars, and it wasn’t safe for himto walk into a bank with a large wad of cash. This dive wasn’t allthat safe either, but Kaden had done the owner a few favors, and hewas reasonably sure he wouldn’t be leaving with a knife in hisback.

After a quick scan of the street and theinterior of the store, he opened the door and stepped inside. Thin,dirty afghan carpets lay on the floor, while multicolored bedsheets and blankets covered the walls and the ceiling, providingsome insulation from the cold. A few customers sat on the ground,huddled around the large samovar that served to heat the tea aswell as the room.

Kaden chose a spot against the wall where hecould see the door and the long counter that separated the frontroom from the back. A young man he didn’t recognize walked aroundthe counter and came to take his order. Kaden asked for tea andnaan.“Is Agha Abdul-nasser here?” he added in a lowvoice.

“Who’s asking?”

“Tell him the Viking would like to give himsome news.”

The waiter nodded, then turned anddisappeared into the back. A few minutes later, a gaunt bearded manwith a weathered face approached. His dark eyes brightened and asmile showed his tea-stained teeth. Kaden stood and took the man’shand, kissing him on both cheeks in the traditional way.

“Sit, sit, my friend,” Abdul-nasser said,gesturing to the carpet. “When I saw you in these clothes, Ithought: that cannot be the Viking. Where is his uniform? Hiscombat boots?”

Kaden looked down at his too-short pants andgrimaced. “I’m here on personal business. Unfortunately,shalwarwith a thirty-five-inch inseam are pretty rare.”

The man hooted with laughter, clapping Kadenon the back. The waiter approached with the tea and bread.Abdul-nasser waited for the young man to leave, then spoke inEnglish, his voice low enough not to be overheard by the othercustomers. “My nephew, Mohammad. He does not know about my littleside business. We keep it that way, yes?”

“Of course.” Kaden inhaled the scent ofcardamom and dropped a cube of sugar into the small glass beforetaking a sip of the sweet black tea, one of the few things he’dmissed from his tours in the Middle East. He smiled. “Delicious asalways.”

“As happy as I am to hear that, I’m sure youdid not come to this part of Kabul just to have a glass of mytea.”

“The bread is pretty good too,” Kaden saidwith a smirk. He met the man’s amused gaze. Abdul-nasser had alwayspreferred the direct approach, and Kaden wasn’t going to disappointhim. “I need weapons. A couple AKs, a couple semiautomatic pistols,a half-dozen grenades, plenty of ammo, and two seven- or eight-inchknives with holsters.”

“By when?”

“Tonight.”

“Emshab?That will cost youextra.”

“Naturally.”

Abdul-nasser sipped at his tea, his eyeswandering to the front window. “Four thousand Americandollars.”

Kaden’s eyes rounded. “Inflation?”

“Demand. People are stocking up for theupcoming ISAF pullout. ”

Not surprising. If the warlords or theTaliban regained power, a decade’s worth of progress would beobliterated in a matter of weeks, if not days. “Two thousand fivehundred.”

“Three thousand, and I will include anRPG-7.”

Kaden nodded. “And I need to exchange anadditional five thousand American dollars.”

“Bank plus two percent.”

“Bank plus one percent,” Kaden shot back. Hisfriend loved to negotiate; it was part of the dance.