Page 58 of Kiss Her Goodbye (Frankie Elkin #4)

M OVEMENT FROM BEHIND THE B RITISH spymaster as Roberta stumbles her way through the shattered sliders, crunching pebbled glass as she goes. Her hair is in disarray. There’s blood on her temple and marks on her wrists consistent with restraints.

She spares a quick nod of thanks to Lilla, whom I’m guessing liberated Roberta after she was most likely ambushed and tied up by the insurgents during her perimeter sweep.

Ironically, she looks in better shape than the rest of us.

Which is immediately confirmed when her gaze lands on Daryl’s still form.

With a cry, Roberta vaults to his side. “Daryl, what have you done, you dumb lug!”

“Let me, I’m a doctor.” The curly-haired man, who looks too similar to Kurtz to be anyone other than the retired army captain’s brother. He spares me a quick glance while heading toward Daryl.

“You’re injured—”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Sabera,” he barks out, already kneeling next to Daryl’s head. “First aid kit. Towels, disinfectant, gauze. Bring me whatever you can find.”

Sabera spins in the direction of the kitchen, her face an angry display of small cuts and glittery glass shards. Aliah is also in motion, rifling cabinets and drawers just as I’d been doing moments before.

Meanwhile Kurtz deftly binds the wrists and ankles of both intruders, then drags them into a sitting position next to the kitchen table.

The lower face of the man who attacked me is a study of gore.

There’s too much blood to be able to determine if he still has his nose, or how much of it.

As he gazes at me with fresh hatred, I make a show of delicately stroking my own pert snout.

Lilla wanders over to Habib’s body, squatting down low and inspecting his red-soaked abdomen.

“Your work?”

I jerk my head in Sabera’s direction.

“Well played.”

“Sabera,” the doctor barks again.

She comes flying over, bearing towels, a sharp knife, and a whiskey bottle. Deposits her load, awaits his next instruction.

They’ve done this before, obviously. Many times.

“You know him,” I state the obvious.

“I volunteered at Dr. Richard’s clinic at the first refugee camp.”

“Dr. Richard. But of course. Any chance, Dr. Richard, you now work at a hospital in New York?”

“Yes.” His hands are dancing all over Daryl’s body, taking vitals, inspecting injuries.

Roberta appears in a state of shock, Daryl’s head cradled on her lap, as the doctor leans over and rips open Daryl’s jacket, then takes the knife from Sabera and slices down the front of his shirt, pinging buttons as he goes.

“Sandy,” he commands his brother.

“Here.”

“Plenty of damage, but here’s the main issue: penetrating wound, lower left side. I’m going to dig out the obvious buckshot. Sabera, you will pack. Then, Sandy, you apply pressure. As much as you can. Ready. One, two, three.”

They move in startling synchronicity.

Daryl groans once but thankfully doesn’t regain consciousness. Dr. Richard moves up to his head, inspects the big man’s neck, feels around the back of his head.

He gazes up at Roberta, his face merely an inch from hers.

“Your…?”

“Friend.”

“Good news. Your friend is gonna have one helluva headache from smashing his head against a hard-tiled floor. And definitely requires a surgeon’s touch. But a lotta this looks worse than it is. Little rest, plenty of fluids, he should recover.”

Roberta chokes back a sob, sniffs out. “Okay.”

Dr. Richard turns his attention to me. I shake my head. He turns next to Sabera. “Your face…”

“I’ve got her,” Lilla interrupts. “As you say, better than it looks. Whereas…”

I’ve forgotten about Aliah. She’s standing at the other end of the long island, and for the first time, I realize that she’s swaying on her feet. Her hand is pressed to her side. When she pulls it back, it’s covered in blood.

Dr. Richard wastes no time as I scramble to assist. Together we ease Aliah to the floor.

I expect to see buckshot or glass, but instead, when he pulls up her blouse, we discover a crude bandage covering a previous injury that’s resumed bleeding.

Dr. Richard peels off the tape. I gag slightly and have to look away.

A symbol of some kind has been carved into her flesh, ugly, brutal, and already bright red with infection.

Dr. Richard, who clearly understands its significance, murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

I take her hand, squeezing her fingers with my own. She trembles but keeps her chin up. She didn’t give them the satisfaction of breaking before; she’s not going to do it now.

I glance over at Lilla and Sabera, who seem to be doing okay.

“There, there, poppet.” Lilla is cupping Sabera’s face between her palms as she searches for further wounds to tend.

The cut on Sabera’s cheek has reopened, blood trickling down.

Lilla brushes it away with her thumb. “The worst is past. Now we just need Zahra, and all will be well. You do have the child someplace safe, yes?”

She gazes at me expectantly.

I’m not ready to make nice, however.

“You.” I start with Kurtz, who’s now wrapping long rolls of gauze around Daryl’s torso to hold the makeshift bandages in place. “You and the good doctor here, obviously you’re brothers?”

A grunt of acknowledgment.

“He works in New York. And you… The main headquarters for No One Left Behind are in DC. You two are the ones who orchestrated everything.”

This earns me a look from Kurtz. “Define ‘everything.’”

“You got Sabera and her family moved to Tucson.”

“Technically, the United Nations made it happen, by virtue of granting them refugee status. But once they finally arrived in the States, I possibly requested a few favors—in a strictly personal, not professional capacity, I assure you. What can I say, I’ve always been a sucker for my little brother’s lost causes. ”

Dr. Richard rolls his eyes.

“Why Tucson?” I want to know.

“Aliah started it. She’d already been working official channels at the resettlement agency.

Claimed she was family, so could assist with the Ahmadis’ transition.

Add to that, my organization was genuinely looking to open a satellite office here, meaning there’d be two of us to look after Sabera and her family. ”

“Because she is the key. And you worried something like this might happen?”

“Hope for the best, plan for the worst.”

I scowl. “And you couldn’t just tell me all this from the very beginning?”

Kurtz gives me a look. “Some mystery woman who shows up out of the blue? Barely has basic background info and almost zero digital footprint? Honestly, I figured you for CIA.”

I blink, which flicks blood in my eye and makes it sting. I can’t decide if I should be insulted or honored.

I’m still trying to piece this together in my head, which is no mean feat after the past twenty-four hours. “So… you two rescued Sabera when she was kidnapped the first time. Isaad contacted you, and all of you went to save her?”

“Isaad reached out to me,” Dr. Richard corrects.

“After Sabera spotted Habib in Tucson, he knew there’d be trouble.

I’d just flown in to figure out options when Sabera was kidnapped.

Once Isaad received the ‘ransom’ note, ostensibly from the kidnappers but created by Sabera with encoded instructions…

Isaad chose to go on the offensive. Isaad would distract her abductors; I’d get Sabera out of there. It nearly worked. Until it didn’t.”

He keeps his gaze fixed on Aliah’s wound, which he’s deftly bandaging.

“I had to help Sabera out of the warehouse. Once she was steadier on her feet, I sent her in the direction of the car, then returned for Isaad. But it was already too late. Rafiq and his cousin had attacked, Isaad grabbing a hammer. They were in the thick of things, Isaad yelling for me to go, he’d catch up.

“I never saw him again.”

“You picked up Sabera,” I fill in. “Several blocks away, as no traffic cameras caught a glimpse.”

“She was keeping out of sight in the back seat. We returned to the resort long enough for her to get cleaned up, tend her injuries. But it was no longer safe. I ended up reaching out to a buddy of mine. We’ve been crashing at his place.”

“Hang on.” I might be slow, but I’m not totally stupid. “Any chance this buddy has a South African accent?”

Now Dr. Richard does look up, his expression clearly annoyed. “Exactly! And he wasn’t trying to kidnap Zahra. He was trying to bring her to Sabera. But, no, that became a bungled mess and then…”

“Sabera couldn’t leave town.” I finally get it. “Without Zahra, she was stuck.”

“Brava.” Lilla claps her hands. “And now that we’re all caught up… Where is the solemn-faced munchkin? Because this place is about to become very crowded.”

I scowl. This is the second time she’s pushed for Zahra. And I don’t like feeling rushed. Especially as I still have doubts about so many things. Up to and including everything.

“Police and ambulance will be here shortly,” Roberta speaks up. She has her cell phone out. “Daryl and Aliah need immediate medical attention. And as for them… Well, better someone else’s problem than ours.”

She stares at the two trussed-up Taliban fighters. I would like them to be someone else’s problem as well. My gaze automatically goes to Lilla, as our official international woman of mystery.

She’s staring at Sabera with a strange look on her face. Almost like regret.

Sabera raises a hand, rubs her forehead. Once, twice, harder.

I start to get a very bad feeling about things, just as Dr. Richard clambers to his feet, looking equally concerned.

“Sabera?” he asks sharply.

Her head comes up. She looks at him, almost surprised. Her mouth, opening, closing, opening.

A sudden wrenching gasp, as if she can’t get enough air, will never get enough air…

She pitches forward at Lilla’s feet.

“Sabera!” Dr. Richard is there, rolling her over, feeling for a pulse. “She’s not breathing. What did you do?” Then, shouting straight at Lilla, “ What did you do!”

He’s already starting chest compressions, while the rest of us stare at Lilla in shock.

He’s right. Lilla did something, had to be…

I catch a glimpse of a large, surprisingly ornate piece of jewelry on her finger.

A woman who carries a pistol up her sleeve and a dagger in her shoes.

Why not also a poisoned ring on her finger?

Kurtz is now on his feet, homing in.

Just in time for Lilla’s snub-nosed gun to make an appearance.

“I wouldn’t get any closer if I were you.”

“You didn’t have to do this!” I can’t even… Sabera. We found her. We saved her. And now this ?

“She is the key,” Lilla states softly. “Come now, poppet. They’re never going to stop looking for her. The first time they succeeded, it cost Sabera her husband. And next time? Who do you think they’ll hurt then?”

Zahra. I almost get it. But I can’t accept it.

“You killed her!” Dr. Richard is raging. He’s still working chest compressions, but his movements are growing weaker. Sabera’s eyes. Fixed. Dilated.

I think I’m going to be ill.

“There’s a cost to secrets,” Lilla murmurs, almost apologetically. “Even her mother understood, some things are best never to be discovered. I’d hoped Maryam had taken it all with her to the grave. I’m sorrier than you can imagine to realize she didn’t.”

“You’ll pay for this,” Kurtz rages. “We all saw you—”

“Do what? When? Where? I was assisting with her injuries. She took a turn for the worse. Terribly sorry. Such things happen.”

I can’t… I can’t…

“She was pregnant. You killed both of them.”

Lilla pauses with one foot through the destroyed sliders. “Oh, poppet, don’t believe everything you read.”

Then she’s gone, slipping back into the shadows.

While sirens split the distance.

Daryl begins to moan.

And Dr. Richard gently gathers up Sabera’s lifeless body and cradles it against his chest.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Kurtz offers softly.

I have to turn away.

I can’t take any more of his pain.

I can’t take any more of my own.

I ease over to Aliah’s side. We sit together and wait for this nightmare to end.