**********

Catherine Phillips stretched out her long legs, taking care not to jostle the seat-back in front of her. The interior of the Boeing 737’s cabin was dim; most of the passengers were taking advantage of time between the end of the in-flight movie and their arrival in Karachi to steal an hour or two’s sleep. Kate found the droning hum of the aircraft’s big Pratt & Whitney engines vaguely comforting, but she refused to allow that ease to penetrate her defenses, to weaken her resolve. No, sleep was not for her.

How quickly things had fallen into place. Ahmed had offered to take them to El-Yousef, and Kate had jumped at the chance. She had fought the battle within herself and won… beaten down the niggling voices in her head that told her it could be a trap. That it was too dangerous. That only a fool would follow a virtual stranger into one of the most unstable regions in the world, hunting a dangerous international terrorist.

It was an absurd idea.

Insane, really.

And yet, from the moment Ahmed and proposed his plan, Kate knew there would be no turning back. To have an opportunity to get this close to El-Yousef… she’d waited too long, worked too hard, seen too many people die, to pass it up. To delay, to instead go through the ‘proper’ international channels - it would take too damn much time, and possibly allow El-Yousef to once again slip through their grasp. That, and the fact that thanks to Mishka’s letter, Ahmed seemed to trust no one save for herself and Rebecca, compelled her to act immediately. On their own. If the authorities were brought in now, Ahmed would turn and run. She’d seen the fear in his eyes that told her that much.

As a young, fast track intellectual within El-Yousef’s organization, Ahmed Dushan had easily, effortlessly, found himself in an orbit drawing closer and closer to El-Yousef’s inner circle. And so he’d traveled on behalf of the cause: worked a semester abroad at Birktec Electronics, helped to fine-tune a communications post in Athens and, finally, just before returning to his native Kosovo, aided in establishing the Chosen One’s newest stronghold in Birat.

Ahmed swore to Kate that he would be able to get her in and out of El-Yousef’s camp, undetected. It wouldn’t be easy, and there would be hardships along the way, but the young Muslim was confident they could safely penetrate the camp’s defenses, get to the communications array hidden in the hills above the sleepy mountain village, and secure the information that would permanently bring down El-Yousef.

"Would you like some water?"

A soft, lilting voice at her elbow roused the pilot from her thoughts. An airhostess dressed in conservative maroon slacks and a long tunic top smiled down at her, proffering a tray of water.

"Thanks," Kate said gratefully, feeling the scratchy dryness of the recycled air against the back of her throat. She took one cup of the cool liquid for herself, and another for the blonde-headed form slumbering at her side. The attendant floated away down the aisle, her image blending into the murk of the darkened cabin. ‘Prayers in the Air,’ Kate and her fellow pilots had jokingly referred to this particular Pakistani airline, as much for their aged fleet of planes as for the on-time performance of their arrivals and departures - inconsistent at best.

Still, Kate had had to agree with Ahmed; flying on an Orbis Airlines jet right the hell into Karachi was not exactly the best idea just now. Keeping a low profile was paramount. And God, if Cyrus found out what she was up to… shit. Well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it. And that bridge would be in Peshawar, the gateway to the fabled Khyber Pass, and their entrance into Afghanistan. Kate had promised Rebecca she would contact Cyrus then, just to let him know where they were and what they were doing. Of course, it will be too late by then to stop us, she thought grimly.

But a promise was a promise, and she would keep it. Kate sighed deeply and drank a mouthful of the chilled water. She angled her head to better regard her traveling companion. In the gloom of the aircraft’s interior, she could not prevent herself from lifting a hand and lightly running her fingers through the tousled wisps of Rebecca’s hair. The sleeping woman shifted slightly at the contact, unconsciously moving closer to Kate.

Oh God, what am I getting you into, Hanson? Catherine felt a wave of emotion well up within her; powerful, insistent, and she was struck breathless by the force of it. The desire to hold, to cherish, to protect… and more, that she dared not put a name to. She swallowed hard, trying to gulp down the raw, visceral feelings that threatened to swamp her. Dammit! If there was a fly in the ointment of her plan to crush El-Yousef, it was her fear for the safety of the small body curled up peacefully next to her.

Rebecca Hanson.

She who had insisted she would not be left behind and who had vowed to follow the pilot to hell and back, if necessary. And I hope it doesn’t come to that.

"What?" Two sleepy green eyes flickered at her in the darkness.

"Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you," Kate said. She forced a half-hearted smile to her face and struggled to get her emotions under control. It would never do for Rebecca to know of her uncertainty, of her concerns. She had to be strong. For the both of them.

"You didn’t," Becky replied, blinking away the cobwebs. "At least," she yawned, smiling, "I don’t think so."

Kate pushed a plastic cup of water towards the flight attendant. "Here. Have something to drink."

"Thanks. I’m parched." Becky quickly emptied the cup of its contents and turned to press her nose against a darkened window. "Where are we? It’s awfully black down there."

"Over the Caspian Sea, would be my guess," Kate’s pilot instincts kicked in. "Just a little while longer, and we’ll be there."

Becky returned her attention to the dark haired woman by her side. "Have you ever been to Pakistan before?"

"Nope," came the simple reply. "And I sure as hell have never been to Afghanistan." A pause. "But Ahmed seems to know what he’s talking about." Kate let her eyes drift forward in the cabin to the area where she knew the young scientist had a seat. Given his concern for secrecy, Kate had thought it best that they not sit together, at least on the flight into Pakistan. Of course, thanks to international sanctions against Afghanistan, flying directly into that troubled land had been out of the question entirely.

"Do you trust him, Kate?"

The pilot thought about that before answering. "I… I don’t really have a choice, now do I? I have to." She looked down at Becky’s upturned face. "But you do, don’t you." Kate posed the question as a statement of fact.

"Yes," Becky’s voice was barely a whisper. "There’s something about him. I mean, I know he’s done some awful things in his past—"

"That’s an understatement," Kate interjected.

"But he’s trying to make up for it. To put things right." A small hand found Kate’s own and gently covered it. "He deserves a second chance. Everybody does, now and then, don’t you think?"

The irony of that statement was not lost on the tall pilot and, chastened, she slowly nodded her head in the affirmative. "Yes, Rebecca," she agreed. "But with El-Yousef, make no mistake about it, there won’t be any second chances."

And as the plane droned onward, cutting through the bleak indigo sky, Becky tightened her grip on Kate’s hand. The pilot returned the squeeze, with as much assurance as she could muster. Her eyes stared sightlessly ahead at the seat-back in front of her, and silently she chanted to herself over and over again that she was doing the right thing.

One chance at El-Yousef. That was all she needed… just one shot at the monster. She would have that opportunity soon enough.

**********

The airport at Karachi was a blur of activity, even at the early morning hour in which the plane landed. Pakistan’s busiest airport was crowded with travelers, many wearing the traditional Islamic dress. Processing at customs and immigration was agonizingly slow, and additionally Kate found her patience sorely tried by the close quarters and the still, muggy air. She consoled herself with the knowledge that the temperature would cool soon enough once they headed to the northern, more remote region of the country. Finally, with Ahmed leading the way, they boarded a Fokker F-27 for their connecting flight to Peshawar.

The aircraft seated approximately 40 people and for this route, which was only flown once a day, the plane was nearly full. Some of the passengers were Pakistani natives, to be sure, but also there were a number of young people wearing western-style hiking clothes, laughing and talking merrily amongst themselves.

"They’re ‘trekkers,’" Ahmed said, picking up on Becky’s curious stare. "The North-West Frontier Province has some of the most rugged and beautiful scenery in the world. Some climbers even use the area as a jumping off point for the Himalayas."

"I thought you said the region where we’re going to is wild and dangerous," Becky questioned, noting that some of the would-be trekkers looked to be barely out of high school.

"Oh, it is." Kate joined the conversation after finally giving up on her attempt to stow Becky’s laptop into a tiny overhead bin that was already filled to bursting. With some annoyance, she thrust the black bag under the seat in front of her. "But that doesn’t keep some crazies… like us, for instance, from going there."

"For these people," Ahmed thrust a thumb at the hikers taking their seats, "it’s the beauty and the danger that draws them. The thrill of the challenge."

"You’re right. Not so much different from us after all," Becky said softly, turning her eyes toward Kate’s.

It was a quick hop from Karachi to Peshawar’s tiny airport, perched in between two spire-like mountain peaks. The small valley that was Peshawar was barely visible until they were right on top of it, and the buildings sprang from the earth like a rickety tinker-toy town. With snow-capped summits visible in the distance and the lands below them the color of ochre and vermilion, the stark beauty of it all took Rebecca’s breath away, like frosty air on a crisp winter’s morning. With ghostly hands of mists rising skyward, reaching for pillowy clouds above, the flight attendant found herself reminded of the storybook land of ‘Shangri-La.’ "Wow," was all she could say, speechless for once, and Catherine silently agreed, nodding her head and gazing out the small window of the Fokker.

The magical atmosphere continued on their ride from the airport to the hotel. They rode in a makeshift taxi that had last seen its prime during the days of the imperial Raj, Kate guessed, but for Rebecca’s sake she was glad the driver took them on an impromptu mini-tour through the Old City of Peshawar. For there would be no time for sight-seeing on this trip, the pilot thought, her eyes narrowing as she considered their purpose here.

Peshawar was a blend of the old and new, tracing its origins back through the millennia, stubbornly eking out an existence in the thin air and rocky landscape. It was obvious, however, that at least some modern conveniences had not passed Peshawar by. A Range Rover here, a satellite dish there, and there was a riot of bazaars and turbaned vendors along the route who sold everything from tribal jewelry and oriental rugs, to TVs, VCRs and leather pistol holders. The streets were choked with foot and bicycle traffic, as well as plodding horse-drawn tongas driven by fierce-looking Pashtuns – the predominant local tribe.

The driver chattered away, describing the sights in what he must’ve thought was passable English, although the women could understand little of it thanks to the sharp, unfamiliar dialect.

"Are you getting any of this?" A grimace edged across Kate’s face as she watched the cab narrowly avoid a stand of squash set close to the road. The gap-toothed, turbaned driver was oblivious to the near miss, turning back frequently to stare at his passengers, Rebecca in particular.

"Not a bit of it," Becky grinned happily. "Just go with it, Kate!"

"He’s telling us where the good shopping deals are to be found," Ahmed said, shaking his head. "At least I think so. Special discount, he can get us. Especially for you, Miss Rebecca."

"Wha-- Hey! Watch where you’re going, buddy!" Kate poked the driver in the shoulder as the cab weaved once again, barely avoiding an old man leading a balky goat by a tether. Reluctantly, the driver faced forward, still prattling excitedly.

"Jesus! What is his problem?"

"You’d better get used to it," Ahmed told the pilot, a faint smile dancing across his narrow, bearded face. "Western women are not usually found in these parts," he explained, "and a blonde woman," he looked pointedly at Becky, "is a rare sight indeed. You should prepare to be stared at."

"That’s ridiculous," Kate snapped, her nostrils flaring. "For God’s sake, we’re dressed conservatively enough!" She gestured towards the khaki pants and beige, long-sleeved blouses and field jackets that both she and Rebecca wore. They’d made a point of quickly obtaining clothing better suited to the cooler, more rustic environment prior to leaving Paris. "Why, if that’s not a bunch of bulls—"

"Hang on, Kate," Becky’s eyes lit up as the taxi lurched towards a dry goods vendor. "I’ve got an idea."

**********

Catherine Phillips had been involved in her share of ‘special operations’ in her days with the Air Force. Little ‘unofficial’ or ‘ad hoc’ missions, as Cyrus liked to call them. He had used her because she was good, one of the best; because she was discrete – she had no one to tell; and because she was always willing to give it a go, to play full-out. ‘No’ simply wasn’t in her vocabulary. Despite the sometimes extreme levels of risk involved, she’d never backed down. Maybe, she’d wondered later, it was because in those days she’d felt she had nothing to lose, really.

Libya. The Philippines. Somalia.

And that damned no-fly zone above Iraq. Or ‘go-fly,’ as Kate and her colleagues had called it. There was that one hellish time when one of her sorties had gone bad. She and her wing man had been flying a couple of F-16 Falcons on what was supposed to be a quick in and out. She’d taken a few rough hits but hadn’t had to bail, unlike her wing man, who had gotten nailed one time too many and went down. It had been a pitch black night with no moon; the only light in the sky had come from the Soviet-made Iraqi fighter who’d come out of nowhere and let loose on them, unprovoked. She’d soon fixed that, burying an AIM-9 missile in the bastard.

Damn, that night had been one hell of a fuck-up. She’d seen her fellow pilot eject, but hadn’t been able to make contact with him. The terrain below was exposed desert. So the pilot, if he had survived, was exposed too. She’d stayed above him, maintaining a sweeping, circling pattern, coordinating the retrieval effort from her position despite the static she was getting from base to bring her damaged aircraft home. But it was as if she hadn’t heard. No way was she leaving her man behind, defenseless. And so, somehow, she’d fought off two more enemy jets until the rescue choppers signaled that they’d picked up the pilot; unconscious, with two broken arms, but alive.

It all seemed like so long ago to Kate, but on days like these, in the middle of a strange new land with a mission weighing heavily on her mind, it seemed like only yesterday. Even now, as she reflected back on her covert operations, she marveled at them with a mixture of awe, accomplishment, and a ‘what in the hell did you think you were doing’? She’d thought when she’d taken Cyrus up on his offer and joined Orbis Airlines, that she’d left those dark, dangerous days behind.

She’d been wrong.

It was funny now, in a way, how quickly she’d felt herself shifting into her old special ops mode. The tight, clenching feeling in her gut. How her heart raced every time she thought of what their success might mean. The way in her mind’s eye that she was able to see things more sharply, more clearly, focusing on the mission at hand and on nothing and no one else.

Well, almost no one else.

For this time, she had a partner along. And that made things… different somehow. No better, no worse, just different. And Rebecca Hanson did not plan on simply being extra baggage along for the ride; she’d already made that perfectly clear. She planned to contribute, to bear equal responsibility for their mission. Already, the pilot had found she’d had to check her ego at the door and acknowledge that the younger woman did have a say in all this, one that she’d do well to listen to.

Like their clothes, for instance. While Kate had been busy blustering on with the reasons why the locals should simply treat them as peers in their conservative, western dress, Becky had already been directing the driver towards a vendor where they were subsequently able to purchase more traditional garb.

Now, sitting in the relative quiet of the restaurant in the Pearl Hotel, both she and Rebecca wore the shalwar kameez – a long, loose, non-revealing garment worn by men and women alike. It fit nicely over their clothes, providing an added layer of warmth against the mountain chill. Becky’s was of a buff-colored cotton, with a green head-scarf and trim on the sleeves and bottom, while Kate’s was less decorative; a plain, functional garment the color of slate. Becky had picked up a copper bracelet in the market too, and the bangles glittered warmly in the light of a small candle that lit their table.

Gazing at her companion as they both ate an early dinner of dhal - a lentil mush - curried lamb, cabbage and rice, Kate could not help but notice how Rebecca’s native attire suited her. Wayward strands of her blonde locks still peeked out from under the head scarf and, despite their long travels and the uncertainty of what lay in store, the young woman’s face fairly glowed with a peaceful serenity that Kate herself found strangely calming, soothing.

Noticing her stare, Becky paused in mid-bite, a spoonful of the sweet-smelling mush hovering in mid-air. The blonde’s gaze took in the pilot, quickly dropped down to her food, and then at last skipped around the half-full restaurant. "What – do you see something?"

The words effortlessly flew out of Kate’s mouth before she could find either the strength or desire to stop them. "You’re beautiful," she said simply, plainly.

Immediately, a red flame ignited Becky’s cheeks, and she replaced the spoon in her bowl. "Gee… in this old thing?" Hands went to smooth out the folds of light-colored cloth and to push stray hairs off her forehead, but her green eyes sparkled in appreciation.

"Yup," Kate felt a grin spread its way across her face. She reached out to playfully twirl Rebecca’s bracelets. "You are."

"Thanks," Becky released an explosive burst of air, gratefully returning Kate’s smile. "I needed that. It’s been a long couple of days."

"And they’re gonna get longer." Even as the words escaped her lips, Kate hated herself for ending the moment. She saw Rebecca stiffen and nod in agreement. Well, it was true, wasn’t it? It was only fair that Hanson know what they were in for.

"You’re right, Kate," Becky said, her face gone still. Serious. "And I’m ready." She turned towards the doorway that connected the restaurant to the hotel bar. "I wonder what’s keeping Ahmed?"

"I don’t know." Kate glanced at her watch, feeling impatience begin to tickle at the base of her skull. "He was supposed to meet his so-called friend for that drink an hour ago."

"But he said it might take a while, didn’t he?"

"Yeah," the tall woman grudgingly replied. Pakistan was officially a dry country, after all. The bar in their hotel was one of the few places in the area where alcohol was served, and even at that there were forms to be signed in triplicate before the first beverage would even appear. Ahmed had arranged the meeting with an acquaintance of his from his past life in this border region, an Afghan trader who ran supply convoys through the pass from Peshawar to Jalalabad and Kabul. Hopefully, he would be willing to take a couple of discrete foreigners along with him on his next trip. For a fee, of course. It had been Ahmed’s idea to let him broach the delicate subject with his contact alone, at first, over a rare, friendly drink. And then, if the man were agreeable, to introduce him to the two western women.

Kate pushed away from her food, no longer hungry. "Hell, how many drinks does it take to get a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?"

"Give Ahmed some time, Kate. He’ll be here." The flight attendant could see how the pilot was rapidly becoming agitated. And here, in a foreign land where the locals were unused to the likes of Catherine Phillips, that was not necessarily a good thing. "It’s going to be rough going, isn’t it," she changed the subject, "making our way over the pass and getting, somehow, to Birat."

"That’s putting it mildly."

"Well, Ahmed thinks it’s possible and I believe him." Becky held her head high, challenging her friend with that statement.

"Me too. Or else I wouldn’t be here," Kate replied, quietly considering whether, if pressed, she could accurately describe just where the hell ‘here’ was. "More importantly," she looked squarely at her young companion, "I wouldn’t have dragged you here with me."

"‘Dragged’ is hardly the word I would use," Becky haughtily lifted an eyebrow. "I seem to recall quite clearly insisting that you take me with you to this…" she waved her hand about the high-ceilinged room, "…place."

"Oh yeah. You did, didn’t you?!" Kate offered her companion a faint grin, knowing that there had been no question but that Rebecca would accompany her, not really.

"Kate," a moment’s hesitation, "You’re going to call Cyrus tonight, aren’t you?" Becky’s voice was quiet, without reproach.

"Yes," Kate sighed. "Like I promised."

"You know," Becky began tracing small patterns with her spoon in the bottom of her bowl, "It occurred to me that nobody, besides you, I mean, knows where I am."

A shadow briefly passed over the blonde’s face, one that did not escape Catherine’s notice. In the months that they’d been together, the one thing that the older woman knew above all was that Rebecca Hanson was a sensitive soul, despite her rather feisty attempts at times to demonstrate otherwise.

Ah hell, Kate thought, Let me give this a shot. "You mean, like your family?"

"Well, yeah." Rebecca sat up straight in her chair, doing her best to appear strong. Ready for anything. "It’s not that I’m homesick of course," she added quickly. God, the last thing she’d wanted to do was to give Kate the impression she wasn’t up to the job. "After all, I know we’ve got work to do here, important work."

"You wanted to come," Kate said, her voice betraying no emotion. It was the truth, plain and simple.

"And I wouldn’t have had it any other way," Becky fiercely replied, her feistiness rearing its blonde head. "Heck," she softened her voice, "someone’s gotta watch your back, Captain."

"And that someone would be you?"

Rebecca found herself on the receiving end of a blue-eyed gaze. "Yes," she said quietly, boring her eyes into Kate’s with an honesty of emotion that rocked the pilot back on her proverbial heels. "It’s, it’s just…."

"What?" Kate urged her on.

"Here, in this place, we’re so very far away from… from what and who we know. The people we care about. Mac, Rory, and—"

"And Dottie?"

"Yeah, even her." A grin suddenly appeared on Becky’s face and fled just as quickly, before she continued. Just being able to talk about it… the isolation, the risk… made her feel better. "But now, after all the hard work we’ve done, that you’ve done, it’s come down to just you and me, Kate. If anything were to happen to you—"

"No – stop thinking like that!" Kate hushed. "You and me… we’re enough to see this thing through, Rebecca," Kate said, her eyes shining in the candlelight. "Believe in that, like I do. Okay?" She anxiously searched Becky’s face for her answer, knowing she would go no further on this mission if her friend were not 100% committed, confident.

"Yeah," Becky said, smiling at last. "I do." She shook her head. "You know me, Kate. I’m such a worrywart at times. It’s what I do best, you know?" she laughed helplessly.

"It’s okay. It’s kinda nice for a change, having someone who gives a damn," Kate said, barely holding back a chuckle when she saw Becky’s eyes widen as a waiter walked by with a tray bearing a head of mutton.

"Oh my," Becky swallowed hard, holding a hand up to the side of her face, blocking her view. "What was that?"

"Dinner?"

"Oh, you!!" Becky reached out and impishly slapped at Kate’s shoulder.

"Hey!" the pilot pushed up the sleeve of her shalwar kameez to check her watch. "Just wait a few days. You’ll see!"

"Never," Becky muttered, turning a shade of green that matched the color of her scarf.

"That’s it." Kate stood abruptly, her chair almost tumbling over backwards. "I wonder how many drinks Ahmed is buying his friend on my tab?" She took several long steps towards the bar. "Be right back."

"Kaaate," Rebecca warned, her stomach lurching at the sight of the diners at a nearby table tucking into the lamb’s head. "You know ladies aren’t allowed in there."

The tall pilot did not break her stride. "Fine," she called back over her shoulder, and Becky could hear the smirk in her voice, "because I’m no lady."

**********

The appearance of the tall, dark, and mightily annoyed woman in the bar of the Pearl Hotel provided just the impetus that Ahmed and his friend needed to leave the men-only, smoke-filled bar area. It was either that, or provoke an international incident.

"We were just about to come over," Ahmed protested, desperately hoping that the pilot would not notice another tray of drinks heading in their direction.

"Sure you were," Kate’s tone was skeptical as she ignored the angry stares of the bar’s patrons. "Let’s go." She bowed slightly towards the doorway leading to the restaurant. "After you, Mr.—"

"Ceru. Nayim Ceru." A short, bearded man wearing wire-frame spectacles examined Kate curiously, as though she were a creature unlike any he’d ever encountered before. His skin was dark, like his eyes, and he wore an oversized woolen jacket over dusty-brown slacks and a shirt. "And you must be Catherine Phillips." He spoke in a sing-song English accent.

"Nice guess," Kate said dryly, following Nayim towards the restaurant.

"Oh, no guessing necessary, I assure you ma’am!" Nayim smiled merrily at her. "Ahmed has told me much about you."

"Has he?" Kate gave the Kosovar a dark look. "You’d better cancel that last drink order, Ahmed. You won’t be able to take them into the restaurant, right?" Her voice was icy-cold.

"Ah… yes. Quite right," he said sheepishly, realizing his next round had not escaped Kate’s notice. He turned to hurriedly toss a handful of rupees at a rather confused waiter.

The small group finally settled in at their table in the restaurant; Kate taking a moment to reassure an anxious Rebecca with a sidelong wink of an eye.

"Well," Kate leaned forward on the table after introductions were completed, "Tell me, Nayim. Are you willing to get us through the pass and take us to Birat?"

To Kate’s chagrin, the middle-aged man released a roar of belly laugh that echoed throughout the restaurant, temporarily distracting the nearby diners from their head of mutton.

"By God, Ahmed," Nayim swabbed tears of laughter from his eyes, "she’s just as you said, and more!"

"What?" Kate could feel the anger building in her gut like the pressure within a volcano. If she were subjected to much more of this bullshit, she would blow.

"Please, Catherine," Ahmed said in a panicked voice, his eyes darting back and forth between her and Nayim, "There’s a certain… protocol we have to follow here."

"Really," Kate said tonelessly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Such as?"

"Such as…" Ahmed frantically searched for the right words, "…one does not enter lightly into such an agreement. There should be a bit of conversation, bargaining, good humor…."

"And a spot of tea would be delightful," Nayim gazed pointedly at a passing waiter. "I’m dry as the lowlands in early spring."

"I wouldn’t know why, after all the time you spent in that bar," Kate grumbled, flagging down a waiter.

"Kate!" Rebecca admonished her companion, "Please!" She turned to the older man. "Mr. Ceru, Ahmed’s told us you’ve been back and forth through the pass many times. You must be quite an expert."

"Yes I am, dear lady," he removed his glasses from the bridge of his nose and began to clean them with his napkin. "And I don’t mind saying so. If you want to get through the Khyber, I’m the man to see. There are permits to be obtained, and with the fighting among the local clans, you must be careful about which convoy you ride with. Not to mention the dangers to be found along the way. The thieves, the land mines. Make one mistake," he raised a stubby finger at her as a cup of piping hot tea was placed at his side, "and it could be your last."

"You’re a very brave man," Becky smiled engagingly.

Nayim shrugged his shoulders. "So some might say. But I feel it is my duty to do what I can to supply the rebels with grain and other supplies."

"I thought the war was over?"

"With Russia, yes. But within the country, there is still much infighting between the tribes. Oh, the Taliban has control of Kabul," he explained, describing the ruling political party, "but they’re little more than an armed militia, or so some of us think." He took a sip of his tea. "They moved into the vacuum the Russians left. With a common enemy gone, various groups of mujahideen turned on one another. The Taliban were the strongest. In time, they overran our bombed-out capital and hanged the former Soviet-backed president. They simply took over." He sadly shook his head. "They’re zealots really, banning women from work and girls from school. They have public executions, amputations, and whippings - in stadiums no less, as if one were simply watching a cricket match. Oppose them, and you’re publicly executed. I’ve seen it," he said, falling silent.

"Sounds just like the sort that would welcome an Abbado El-Yousef," Kate said quietly, softening some towards Nayim. Obviously, he’d been through his own brand of private hell at the hands of the Taliban.

"Don’t think your United States is without blame here," Nayim turned dark, flashing eyes towards the pilot. "The CIA helped to create and support the likes of the Taliban. Your American Presidents sending ‘aid’ to the rebels… billions of dollars before and after the Soviets finally left, most of it to obtain arms. Some say the CIA is still meddling in our affairs."

"But without that American aid, the Russians might be in Afghanistan still," Rebecca objected.

"Possibly," Nayim allowed, "possibly. But the aid was not democratically parceled out to all Afghan tribes and states. For some reason," he laughed bitterly, "it flowed only to the tribal and political leaders friendly to Pakistan. It was under these conditions that the Taliban came to power."

"I—I’m sorry," Becky said, the anguish she felt over the situation in Nayim’s homeland clearly etched on her face.

"Don’t be, dear Miss Hanson," he assured her. "Of course this is not your fault. And what you and your friend are trying to accomplish with your little trip to Birat, can only help us. Those of us who believe in freedom, that is." He paused. "‘Taliban.’ It is Farsi for ‘seekers of the truth.’ How I wish to Allah that were true."

"Birat," Kate gently pressed. "Can you take us there?"

"I don’t have a convoy heading through the pass for another three weeks. I am sorry," Nayim said woefully.

Kate’s shoulders slumped. To have traveled all this way, and for nothing!

"But," the Afghan trader suddenly flashed his teeth in a grin, "a business associate of mine has a convoy leaving tomorrow morning for Jalalabad. I planned on being on it. There’s a small village northeast of there called ‘Duristan.’ It’s on the road that can take us towards Birat. As coincidence would have it, Duristan is my hometown. With a little baksheesh," he rubbed the coarse skin of his palms together, "I could get you on the convoy as well."

"You mean a bribe," Kate bristled at the thought. Still, at this point she would do whatever it took to get over the damned Khyber.

"I mean a key," Nayim benignly smiled, correcting her. "With the right baksheesh," he waved a hand through the air like a magician, "there is no door that will remain closed to you."

Catherine Phillips thought about that for a moment, before coming to a conclusion. She held out a hand to the trader, and offered him a small quirk of a grin. "So… do you take traveler’s checks?"

**********

"Okay, that’s it," Kate, closed the door to their small hotel room after handing a 100 rupee note to the hotel’s version of a bellman. "They’ll store the rest of our things until we return." Kate turned and stood with her hands on her hips, her appraising eyes taking in the backpacks and other trail gear strewn across their bed. "I don’t want to hear it about that laptop," the tall woman said, eyeing the computer that Rebecca insisted on bringing along on their journey.

"You won’t," Becky smugly replied. "At least one of us believes in being prepared."

"For what?" Kate’s voice was incredulous. "Do you think a rogue board meeting might break out in the middle of the Khyber Pass?"

"Funny." Becky primly zipped the computer into its black leather bag. "Just remember, when you need it, Missy, I won’t say ‘I told you so.’"

"That’s what I… like about you so much, Rebecca," the pilot moved behind the smaller woman and encircled a pair of long arms about her waist. "You’re ever so gracious." She planted a kiss on the top of the flight attendant’s blonde head and she lingered there, contentedly nuzzling her hair.

Becky felt her body relax into Kate’s, drawing nourishment from her partner’s strength and warmth as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do. "Thanks," she said softly, letting her head fall backward against the pilot’s shoulder. They stood that way for a time, in the plain, sparsely furnished room, moving only when the telephone on their bedside table began to shrilly sound.

"I’ll get it," Kate said, reluctantly pulling away from Rebecca. "Probably the connection to Cyrus went through." She was at the phone before it completed its next set of double-rings.

"Hello?"

"By God, Katie, where the hell are you?"

Kate held a palm over the receiver. "It’s Cyrus," she mouthed to Becky. "Nice to hear from you too, Cyrus," she returned her attention to her caller.

"That’s not funny, Katie!"

"It wasn’t meant to be. Now, do you want to have a conversation with me or not? It’s late here and I’d like to get to bed sometime soon."

"Wha…" the retired Air Force Colonel sputtered, "I haven’t heard from you in days, and neither has your office. I’ve been left holding the goddamned bag here, trying to explain where the hell you are. To tell the truth, I’m slightly curious myself!"

"I don’t want to say too much over the phone." Catherine knew that a terrorist without borders such as El-Yousef had an electronic network of listening devices that reached far and wide. Best to play it safe. "I can tell you we’re somewhere in Pakistan."

"Paki-- what the hell, Katie! And who is ‘we?’"

"Myself, Rebecca, and… a former associate of El-Yousef’s that I…" she considered the young scientist asleep in the room across the hall, "…would rather not name. We’re hot on his trail Cyrus. We’re closer than we’ve ever been."

"Katie," Cyrus’ voice was ominous, "what the hell are you up to?"

"We know where he is," Kate explained. "We’re going in."

"In."

"To Afghanistan. We know how to get to him Cyrus. We’re going to shut him down." The pilot was surprised to hear her own voice break with emotion at that last statement. The goal that had been so long out of reach, was now within her grasp. And it meant everything to her. A redemption of sorts, for a personal past that she wasn’t necessarily proud of. Now… now at last, she could finally make it right.

"No, Katie, no!" She could hear Cyrus’ groan across the miles. "You— you can’t! The Taliban are some harsh sons of bitches! They’ll never let two western women into the country!"

"That’s if they know we’re trying! We’re dressed as locals, and will be traveling with an Afghan trader who says he can get anything from diamonds to luxury cars into the country undetected. Getting Rebecca and I in? For this guy, it’s like a day off for him. We’re leaving first thing in the morning."

"No! Give up this… this damn fool mission. That’s an order!"

"Getting El-Yousef is my mission," Kate said stonily. "You hired me for that, remember?"

"Katie, you don’t understand."

"What? Tell me Cyrus. After all we’ve been through together!" Kate could feel a stab of pain behind her eyes. Not another fucking headache. She had no time for this. "What don’t I understand?"

Nothing. Just the crackling hum of the line. And then, "Ah, the hell with protocol. Katie," his voice drew hushed, as if by that singular act he could ward off any would-be electronic eavesdroppers, "my contacts at the Pentagon tell me they feel fairly certain they’ve located El-Yousef’s main stronghold. His communications post. Terrorist training ground and all that good stuff."

"No shit," Kate said blithely. "Me too."

"Katie, listen to me. They’re planning a missile strike against it."

"What?" Fire surged through her veins. "No. No way, Cyrus. They can’t do that! They’ll only be striking at the tail of the snake. Blowing up a few oil drums and buildings isn’t the answer. You’ve got to strike at his head. And that means information," Kate raged on. "Breaking his codes. Uncovering his web of spies and contacts. The so-called legitimate companies that are fronts for his operation. Hell, Cyrus, you know this guy isn’t just another zealot with a gun! He’s a fucking international entrepreneur with a multi-million dollar bankroll and sophisticated covers bought and paid for. He’ll simply set up shop somewhere else, and we’ll have missed our last, best chance."

"Don’t you think I know that, Katie?"

"You’ve got to stop them, Cyrus. At least until we can get in and out."

Her boss laughed mirthlessly. "Katie, you sorely overestimate this old man’s sphere of influence. We’ve got an election year coming up. Why, the impact of the PR generated by an attack on the terrorist who supposedly brought down Flight 180? Priceless. Polls will go through the roof. Those talking heads in Washington will never back off of this."

Kate was silent for a moment, letting her gaze fall upon in the concerned face of one Rebecca Hanson. The younger woman had moved to her side when Kate had begun raising her voice, and now rested a hand against the small of the pilot’s back, listening.

"When will they bomb?"

"I don’t know, Katie. But soon."

"Then I’ll just have to make sure I’m out of there when they do."

"Katie, please," Cyrus’ voice was hoarse, "I’m begging you. Stay away. Leave this to the authorities."

"The authorities?" Kate sightlessly swept her eyes around the little hotel room. "Where are they now, Cyrus? I don’t see ‘em. And where the hell were they when Flight 180 was blown out of the sky?"

"Katie… you could get your ass killed. Please. Don’t."

The ache in Kate’s skull was a pulsating throb now, and she squeezed her eyes shut against it. "Hmnn… me risking my life and disobeying orders... seems like old times, Cyrus."

The pilot could hear the heavy sigh of her former mentor from far across the miles. Helpless. Resigned. "Just… just be careful, will you, Captain?"

"I’ll be in touch as soon as I can… Sir," Kate said quietly, ending the connection. "Goodbye." She replaced the phone in its cradle. "Well," she turned to Becky, "you heard most of that, right?"

The young flight attendant silently nodded.

"They’re planning on bombing El-Yousef’s camp. Cyrus isn’t sure exactly when. I’ll have to tell Ahmed and Nayim but… regardless, I’m still going in." The pilot lowered her dark head, the pain shifting from behind her eyes to the center of her gut. "I—I’d understand if you didn’t—"

Rebecca placed a silencing finger against Kate’s lips. "Sssh. Don’t say it. Don’t even think it." Her green eyes blazed with emotion. "You and me… we’re in this together, period. We’re enough to see this thing through, Kate," Becky echoed the pilot’s own earlier words. "Believe in that, like I do, okay?"

Kate removed Becky’s finger from her lips, and proceeded to open up the small palm as through it were the bud of a delicate flower. She kissed it, relishing in the vibrant warmth she found there. Overcome with relief, and with a bewildering sense of amazement at the faith that Rebecca Hanson had in her, she gathered her up in a tight, possessive embrace.

"I do, Rebecca, I do. Always."

**********

Kate didn’t know what precisely she’d imagined their Khyber Pass convoy would be comprised of, but never, not in her wildest dreams could she have pictured the stream of vehicles, both wheeled and footed, that made their way over the narrow mountain road. Military trucks and jeeps that had seen better days. Automobiles: both boxy Eastern European makes as well as the odd Chinese manufactured vehicle. Broken-down hippie-style vans, including a small yellow school bus with nearly all of its interior seats removed to make room for cargo. And at the side of the road, trailing next to the modern-day caravan, there were bellowing, over-burdened camels, and wagons drawn by donkeys; even the occasional hand-drawn cart.

The entire convoy was ‘guarded’ by a number of fierce looking, turbaned men, who seemed to sport more cigarettes and guns than they did teeth and good sense. Three times already, Kate had politely declined their offers of opium. And though scorched craters pockmarked the road, telltale signs of land mines, the guards led the convoy onward with an appalling lack of regard for the potentially catastrophic consequence. In that sense, Kate was glad they were positioned about halfway along in the train of vehicles.

Nayim had told them that the journey through the pass would not be a quick one, and he’d been proven correct. They slowed down every time they hit a tunnel. And as they climbed higher into the mountains and the air grew thinner, they’d had to stop their whole bedraggled juggernaut every hour or two, not only to offer Muslim prayers, but also to pay ‘tolls’ to scruffy looking characters who emerged from tiny ancient forts that dotted the route. During such stops, greetings and baksheesh would be exchanged, and the men would let off salvos of small arms fire into the sky, shouting encouraging religious slogans and slapping each other on the back.

"Christ!" Kate swore, watching this performance yet again, making sure she and Rebecca were protected in the covered jeep that Nayim Ceru’s reputation within the convoy community had obtained for them. "Don’t those assholes realize that what goes up, must come down?" Kate threw an arm around Becky’s shoulders and hunkered down in the rear of the vehicle.

"They are happy to be returning home, Miss Catherine," Nayim said as he shifted the jeep into idle, "despite the hardships they know await them there."

"Well, they’ll never make it if they don’t angle those bullets away from the convoy!" Kate said testily. She’d come too far to be taken out by some damn-fool trigger-happy, hopped-up, holy warrior.

"There are an awful lot of toll stops," Becky’s muffled voice sounded. "Whose jurisdiction are we in, anyway? Afghanistan’s or Pakistan’s?"

"Jurisdiction?" Nayim chuckled, and Ahmed’s laughter joined him. "Tell, them, Ahmed!"

"This is the only jurisdiction in these lands," the young Kosovar replied, letting his hand drop down to caress the rifle Nayim had casually placed between them. "The people here don’t recognize borders… countries… not like we do. There are no Afghans or Pakistanis." He let his eyes track to the front windshield and the breath-takingly beautiful snow-capped peaks that lined their route. "Here there are only clans. Tribes. Pathans and Pashtuns. Chitrali, Taliban, and Tajik. Fighting nature… and each other, for what they believe in. We’d do well to stay out of their way."

"It is the curse of my people," Nayim said with some regret as the convoy slowly, laboriously, began to pull out; another toll satisfied. "That which should bring us together, instead drives us apart."

Food was eaten on the fly: chapattis and nan rolled with cold spicy spinach and rice inside, and water from plastic bottles that looked suspiciously re-filled; they’d had little choice but to drink it anyway. Hell, Kate thought, taking a healthy swig, this should be the least of my worries.

"How ya doing?" Kate forced a smile as she gazed down at her smaller companion. Somehow, Becky had managed to doze off a bit from time to time, and was the better for it, no doubt. A bone-chilling coldness had crept into their vehicle, and it seemed to Kate that there was not a rock or a rut in the road that was missed by the small jeep. Gears ground incessantly as Nayim adjusted to the varying tempos of the caravan, and the pilot could feel her head starting to pound once more. The sun had set; there were just a few faint shards of sunlight reflecting off the mountains, and fat snowflakes had appeared, peppering the windshield and the road ahead of them.

"Okay," came Becky’s answering yawn, and she stretched as best she could in their cramped quarters. "Oh look, it’s snowing!"

"It will be an early winter, to be sure," Nayim bobbed his head knowingly.

"This won’t slow us down, will it?" Kate took Rebecca’s hands in her own, warming them. With darkness nipping at their heels, the sooner they were out of these mountains, the better.

Nayim stuck his head out the window of the jeep and sniffed at the air. "Not likely," he concluded, bringing a few snowflakes back inside with him. "We’ll be out of the pass before it can do much."

"Just think," Becky sniffled slightly, looking out the window, "we’re traveling the same path that Alexander the Great did over 2300 years ago."

"I wonder if he had to pay as many tolls," Kate said dryly as the convoy shuddered to a halt once more. The by-now routine shouts and shots came again from the head of the line.

"How much more of this do we have left?" Kate tightened her grip on Rebecca, feeling suddenly uneasy, hemmed in by the rocky walls rearing up to either side of the convoy, trapping them.

"Another couple of hours, at most," Nayim replied. "Then we’ll be heading out and down… it will be warmer there, at least. We’ll leave the convoy and be able to stop for the night."

More shouts came from the front of the line, and to Kate’s ear they sounded different than before. Angry. Insistent. The gunfire moved closer.

"Something’s wrong," Kate said firmly, her senses on full alert.

"My dear," Nayim swiveled around to face her, "there’s nothing to—"

At that moment, the ground shuddered and the whomp! of an explosion rattled the jeep. Kate flung her body over Rebecca’s, pressing her to the floor of the vehicle, as disembodied shrieks and screams sounded from the gloom up ahead. Dirt and rock and God knew what else pinged down upon them.

"A land mine," Nayim shouted hoarsely. "It has to be!"

More yells, drawing closer now, and the pop-pop of rifle fire.

"What’s happening? Can you make out what they’re saying?" Kate peered over the tattered seat-back, her heart pounding in her chest.

"So sorry to have to tell you this," behind his spectacles, Nayim’s dark eyes were open wide, "but this is an ambush, I fear. Some enterprising mountain tribes take ‘toll’ collection to a whole new level, and this is the result of it."

"Can I get up now?" Becky’s far-away voice came from the floor of the rear seat.

"Stay put," Kate responded sharply, pushing Rebecca down. "Look," she hissed in Nayim’s ear, "what are they saying?"

The trader cocked his head towards the window before answering. "It sounds as though they’re looking for tolls from each… vehicle. And if they don’t get what they like…."

"Great. Is it money they’re after?"

"Money… and more, if you know what I mean. And they are, what you would call, ‘royally pissed off,’ you’ll pardon my saying, since one of them accidentally stepped on a land mine. They’re blaming us for that."

"Fuck. You’ll pardon my saying," Kate muttered.

From her rather uncomfortable position on the floor of the jeep, Becky was shocked to see the pilot reach under her shalwar kameez into the pocket of her jacket, and withdraw a pistol.

"Kate!" Her voice was breathless. "Where did you get that?"

"Guest services at the hotel?" Kate tried, giving Becky a sly smile in the half-light. "Look. Stay here, will ya? And keep your head down." She pressed the pistol into Ahmed’s hand. "Watch out," blue eyes pinned him against the door of the jeep. "Nothing happens to her, got it?"

The young scientist silently shook his head ‘yes’ as his gaze darted ahead. Amid the approaching shouts a donkey brayed, and there was a voice that even in a foreign language Kate could tell was imploring for mercy. Another gunshot, and then nothing.

"Nayim, you’re with me," she nodded at him to grab his rifle as the two of them exited the jeep.

"What... what exactly is it we’re doing?" The smaller man was not afraid, rather, he seemed curious at Kate’s plan of action.

"I figure in an area where muscle counts, the best defense is a good offense."

"Ah… we play poker now, do we?" He’d seen thieves like this before, and knew how unpredictable they could be. Some would let you pass with a smile and a wave, while others would just as soon shoot you where you stood. The American woman’s strategy was as good as any.

"Exactly," Kate smirked, grabbing a carton of water bottles from the rear of the vehicle and placing it on the ground next to them. As an afterthought, she reached back into the front of jeep to Ahmed. "Give me your arm!" she demanded.

Obligingly, he extended it to her. "Wha—" Quickly, she slid his watch off his wrist. "Hey! Why don’t you use your own?" He settled indignantly back into his seat under the heat of Kate’s threatening look.

"Because Rebecca gave it to me." Hell, she thought, turning to face the approaching highwaymen, it's a good-enough reason to me!

In the encroaching darkness, Kate could see that a number of the criminals had taken up positions on high ground overlooking the convoy, rifles stolen from dead Russians at the ready, while the main group - about a dozen, heavily armed, worked their way down the line.

Nayim casually leaned against the side of the jeep, his rifle negligently pointed to the ground, but Kate could see that his eyes were sharp, following the thieves and their conversation. Kate was at a double disadvantage she knew, being a woman and a foreigner at that. Ah, well. She’d been in worse situations than this. But none where she’d had the added responsibility of looking out for one Rebecca Hanson.

What the hell. "Ready?" She muttered under her breath as a man stepped forward, their leader, she supposed, wearing a heavy overcoat and a turban that did little to control the dark, wild hair that blew about his face. Interestingly enough, he had piercing blue eyes that looked her over from head to toe, before he turned to address Nayim in a harsh, guttural voice. He finished with a grab at his crotch and a derisive laugh.

"Please pardon, Miss Catherine," Nayim began, "but he wants to know if you’re good in bed. And, if you are, would I be willing to share you with him."

Kate fought to keep her temper in check, instead lifting a hand to pull her head-scarf down, fully exposing her face to the elements and to the ringleader. "Tell him…" her thoughts flashed to Rebecca crouched on the floor of the jeep, "… tell him that he’d do better to fuck a sheep than to try his hand with me. But that we would be willing to share this bottled water with him." She kicked the side of the carton she’d placed on the snowy ground.

Blushing, Nayim repeated Kate’s words to the bandit.

A shocked expression appeared on the leader’s face as he absorbed Nayim’s statement, but he quickly recovered, grinning like a man with a crude secret. He gripped his rifle tightly in grubby, blackened fingers, and turned it towards Kate, speaking rapidly.

"He says he’ll take you and the water, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Oh, and he wants to know if you’re English. He says he’s always wanted an Englishwoman."

Kate laughed aloud at that, a deep, rumbling laugh, causing the bandit and his men to shrink back a bit in surprise. "Tell him I’m your Englishwoman, and you’ll never let me go. So leave us pass through, and we’ll throw this into the bargain."

She tossed Ahmed’s watch onto the carton. Immediately the leader snatched it up and twisted it onto his wrist, holding it up proudly to the appreciative ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from his men. Once more he turned to Nayim, smiling, but the tone of his voice was menacing, betraying him.

"He says that… that now he can tell it’s time for us to die," Nayim subtly raised the barrel of his rifle.

"No… not yet, my friend," Kate said calmly, hoping the bandits had not noticed the threatening move. "Tell him it is instead time for he and his men to die. If he doesn’t let us pass, we’ll set off more of the bombs we’ve hidden. Many of his people will be killed, and the rest will hate him for it."

"Wha—oh, yes, of course," Nayim said, catching on.

"And be loud about it when you tell him." Kate eased back against the jeep, assuming an ‘I don’t give a rat’s ass’ posture. She could see the flicker of fear dance across the bandit’s eyes as Nayim spoke, could hear the first grumbles of discontent from the rest of the gang surrounding him.

The leader moved closer to Nayim, shouting in the little man’s face now, before whirling to confront his increasingly agitated band.

"He thinks we’re bluffing, but a part of him is frightened too, Miss Catherine. However his pride won’t let him back down, I fear."

"Tell him," Kate bit her tongue, thinking quickly, "that in appreciation for his letting our convoy pass by, as an acknowledgment of his wise leadership, choosing to protect his men from the wrath of our… bombs, we would have one more gift for him. One that will place him high above all other tribal leaders in the land."

The bandit’s icy blue eyes narrowed and sparked as Nayim relayed the message. Perhaps there was a way out of this after all, preserving both his reputation and his dignity. He gestured wildly at Nayim, stomping his feet hard against the rocky ground.

"He wants to know what this wonderful gift is." The trader curled the corner of his mouth at Kate. "Me too, for that matter!"

"No," Kate said firmly. "We must have his word of honor first, as the great leader that he is, that he’ll let us pass."

The bandit was silent. His breath came in steaming plumes from his nostrils and his brow furrowed as he weighed the offer. Finally, with a broad smile that revealed a mouthful of rotting teeth, he nodded in agreement and extended his hand to Nayim.

"Very well," Nayim said, the relief plain in his voice. "First, the gift, then he’ll let us through."

The pilot moved to the rear of the jeep, lifted up the flap, and pulled a small, black leather bag out of the jumble of supplies there. She could see Rebecca in the rear seat, watching her, and silenced her outraged glare when she saw what she was doing, with one of her own.

"Here," Kate moved back to Nayim. "Give it to him. A computer."

Playing along, Nayim made a great show of presenting the laptop to the bandit. If the wristwatch had been impressive to the thieves, the computer was the equivalent of Allah come down from heaven.

"Aah…." The bandit leader sighed, awkwardly removing the laptop from its bag. "MacIntosh?" He looked hopefully at Kate.

"Um…" Kate half-flirted with the idea of trying to fool him, but thought the better of it. "No. IBM."

The bandit considered that for a moment, before smiling and shrugging his shoulders. "IBM!!! IBM!!!" he crowed, hoisting the computer up into the air as through it were a war trophy. His band took up the cheer, thrilled beyond all reason with this prize. How great their leader was, to have been gifted with such a fine thing!"

Melting into the embraces and congratulations of his men, the bandit turned and shouted something back at Nayim.

"He says we can go."

"Good," Kate sighed. "We don’t need to be told twice."

"Well done, Miss Catherine," Nayim looked at her with a newfound sense of appreciation and respect. "I could use you along on my next convoy."

"I’ll think about it," Kate replied, her face serious but her eyes sparkling.

They scrambled back into the jeep, Nayim shouting ahead and waving. The convoy once again roared to life and bean to move out, slowly passing by still, bloodied bodies at the side of the snowy road. Only when they were out of sight of the bandits did Kate allow Becky to sit up. "I’ll take that pistol back now," she said, holding out her hand to Ahmed.

Next to her, Kate could feel a shiver run through Rebecca, as the gravity of the situation they’d been through at last dawned on the smaller woman.

"Oh God, Kate!" she began to shake uncontrollably.

"It’s okay," she pulled Rebecca close, willing her warmth into her companion, "we made it. We’re out of there," she cooed, until the trembling subsided.

"Rebecca?"

"What?" Came the faint, thin response.

Kate gave her partner a reassuring squeeze. "About that laptop… you can tell me ‘I told you so,’ if you want to."

**********

Several hours later, at the base of pass, the main body of the convoy continued on to Jalalabad, while Nayim, after sharing an effusive ‘goodbye’ with a grateful convoy leader, peeled the jeep northward, towards Duristan. Kate and Rebecca were more than happy to leave the treacherous pass and the jangled nerves that went with it, behind.

Although it was significantly warmer now that they were out of the mountains, Becky still felt chilled, and was content to doze on and off in the arms of her companion. The times when she’d woken up, temporarily disoriented, she’d found Kate still wide awake and alert like some nocturnal creature of the forest, her strong profile barely visible in the darkness.

Rebecca awakened yet again, but it was different this time. Very different. And then she realized it: the silence. No grinding of gears or groaning of motor; no crunch of rock and gravel against hard tires; all was still.

She heard doors opening, soft voices speaking, the bark of a dog. "Where are we?"

"Home," Nayim said, hopping out of the jeep. "We’ll rest here overnight before continuing on in the morning.

Heck, it’s got to be nearly morning as it is! Becky considered, stumbling on sleepy legs out of the back seat. But there was Kate’s hand on her elbow, steadying her.

"Some day, huh?" The pilot’s low, rumbling voice sounded in the inky blackness of the star-less night.

"I’ll say," Becky replied, hugging her arms in front of her waist. She breathed in the cool, crisp air that carried on it the scent of wood smoke and spices, and fought to control her drooping eyelids.

Too tired to pick up much of the conversation going on around her, the young blonde meekly followed Kate and the others into a single story building, moving through the shrouded darkness to a rear room where blankets were quickly arranged on the floor.

More distant conversations and the flickering of a candle, and Rebecca found herself tucked in to one of the warmest blankets she’d ever had the pleasure of wrapping herself in. Fuzzily, she began to debate with herself whether she should remove her boots, and soon, as vague consciousness gave way to deep sleep, it simply ceased to matter.

**********

Rebecca Hanson was dreaming. It made no sense, although it was a good dream. Images. Bursting into view and fading away just as quickly. Flashes of this. Snatches of that. Nothing that her mind’s eye could arrange into any sort of order. And just as well, considering how tired she still was. That, and the fact that she felt too darn comfortable to even think of moving. Of waking up. Just a little while longer….

Except… except for… something, intruding upon her pleasant dream. A voice? No. A sound? Not likely. Rather, a touch, soft and gentle. Kate? Wait… the touch was more of a jab now, sharp and prodding. What the—

Reluctantly, Rebecca allowed herself to be tugged into wakefulness, and she lifted open one bloodshot green eye, then another.

To see two dark brown eyes, round as saucers, staring back at her. The eyes were attached to a little girl, no more than five or six years of age. She wore a colorful pants set and tunic, and her rich brunette hair was plaited neatly behind her head. In her hand she held a spoon, which had served double duty this morning as Becky’s alarm clock.

The flight attendant edged herself up on her elbows, releasing a long breath of air. "Good morning, honey. What’s your name?"

Upon hearing the nonsensical syllables pouring from the mouth of this strange, sleepy lady whose hair was a most unusual color, the little girl shrieked with laughter and scampered away.

Well. "Oh, that’s a nice name," Becky continued to herself, feeling slightly put out at the child’s reaction to her. She held her hand out to thin air. "My name’s Becky. Pleased to meet you." She pushed the warm blanket off of her and sat up, for the first time taking in her surroundings.

Sunlight poured in from a small window behind her; the walls were whitewashed and free of any decoration, and a small wooden table with a doused candle on it stood to the left of the doorway. Other blankets hand been neatly folded and moved to the side of the room, with small pillows arranged on top of them. Where the heck was everybody?

A giggle, and Becky looked up to see the little girl poking her head around the doorway, absent-mindedly chewing on the lip of her spoon.

"Guess I overslept, huh?" She used her fingers to brush her hair into what she hoped was a presentable arrangement and, groaning, got to her feet.

This action elicited another gale of laughter from the child, and Becky could hear the pattering of her feet as she trotted off, jabbering something excitedly to the rest of the house.

Now then… Becky looked down at her feet and realized she was bootless. Funny. I don’t remember…. Another, more detailed scan of the room still had her coming up empty. No boots. Oh well. Time to venture off and out figure what’s what. She started to move towards the doorway, just as a woman appeared.

"Uh… hello… good morning!" Becky thought she’d try it again. To her relief, the woman, dressed in an adult version of the little girl’s ensemble, smiled and motioned that she should follow her. "Thanks," Becky returned the smile, and padded in sock-covered feet after the woman.

As they moved through the sparsely furnished dwelling, Becky could see more children underfoot, both boys and girls, in addition to the little one who was obviously regaling her fellows with tales of her encounter, still pointing and laughing in her direction. Following the older woman towards the front of the house, Becky’s stomach growled as the first scent of food cooking reached her nose. God, when was the last time she’d eaten, anyway? And where were Kate and the others? Had they just freaking left her here in the middle of Afghanistan with a semi-hysterical child and no boots?

They passed through the main doorway and into an open courtyard encircled by a mud and straw wall. The cooking smells were strongest now.

"Oh! There you are!"

Squinting against the bright sunlight, Becky saw a low table laden with food, with Kate, Ahmed, Nayim and several more children sitting on cushions around it. On the far side of the courtyard a cookfire burned, and the woman who’d retrieved Becky returned to it, stirring a large pot that hung over the fire.

"I was wondering if you’d ever wake up!" Kate rose and ambled over to her, grinning.

"You should have woken me!" Becky said crossly, conscious of the stares upon her and the titters of laughter coming from the table.

"Nah, we had the time, and besides," Kate licked her palm and did her best to tame an errant cowlick on the top of Becky’s head, "I thought you could use the beauty sleep."

"Oh yeah," Becky’s tone softened when she saw the mischievous twinkle in her friend’s eyes, "I’m a regular sleeping beauty. And a starving one at that."

"C’mon. Let’s get you something to eat," Kate led her towards the table.

"What I’d really like—Ow!" Becky yelped after stepping on a rather large pebble, "are my boots. You haven’t by chance seen them walking around here, have you?"

"Right there by the doorway," Kate pointed the way and indeed, there were the wayward boots. "They were pretty wet after our snowy trip last night. Thought I’d let them dry off a bit. Nothing worse than waking up and sticking your foot into a damp boot."

"Oh, thanks," Becky replied, feeling somewhat chastened. She never would have thought of such a thing herself, and today instead would have bemoaned the state of her soggy feet. She quickly retrieved her footwear and sat down at the space Kate made for her at the table. She began to tie her bootlaces. "Now, what have I missed?"

"What you have missed," Nayim waved his arms expansively around the courtyard, "is my home and my family! Please, be welcome here. My wife, Rabia," he nodded towards the woman by the fire, who had since been joined by another, younger woman, "our children, and my brother, his wife and their children, all live here," he finished proudly.

"How many people is that?" Becky reached for the piping hot cup of tea that Kate poured for her.

"Oh, about ten or twelve."

"Ten… or twelve." Becky nearly choked on a swallow of the strong, spicy tea. "Uh… you’re not sure?"

"It varies," Nayim chuckled, "and with all these children… they are my poppy flowers. My seeds of joy. It is our way."

"You’re fortunate that your brother is here when you’re away," Kate observed, chewing on a sweet made of dry milk solids that in a short amount of time this morning she’d developed quite a taste for.

"This is so true, Miss Catherine," Nayim grew solemn. "Particularly during the Russian occupation… Duristan was once twice the size of this. If Masud had not been here when I could not…."

Gazing out past the courtyard, Kate could see other small buildings, little more than huts, really, all buzzing with activity.

"Where is Masud now?" Kate wanted to know.

"With some of our boys, out grazing the sheep in the high pasture. They won’t be back for another several days."

"Well, we’re sorry to have missed him," Becky said. She tore a piece of brown bread sprinkled with sesame, from a nearby loaf. "Maybe we’ll see him when we come back."

Nayim nodded agreeably. "This is true, Miss Becky."

"Speaking of which," Ahmed had been fairly silent to this point, "we really need to talk about this last stage of the operation – getting in, and getting out."

"You’re right," Kate said, detecting the strain on the thin young man’s face. Perhaps it was the memories of what he’d done in the service of El-Yousef, but the closer they got to his stronghold, Kate noted that the more quiet he’d become. And while Nayim still featured his oversized woolen coat, Ahmed had changed into a sleeveless tunic that he wore over a long-sleeved, flowing white shirt, looking more like a local inhabitant than ever.

Nayim issued a few stern commands in his native tongue, and the various children who had gathered ‘round the table backed away, reluctantly leaving the adults alone. The trader reached into the pocket of his coat, and produced a well-worn map which he carefully unfolded. He delicately opened it on the table-top, smoothing it flat, minding the tattered edges. "Not that I even need this map, you understand," the wisps of his dark beard moved as he chuckled, "but I thought you might like to see where you’re going." He eyed Kate and Rebecca carefully over the top of his glasses. "Of course, this is nothing new to Ahmed."

"Of course," the young man agreed, looking past the little courtyard towards the distant, hilly horizon.

"It’s fairly open ground between here, Duristan," he stabbed at the map with a crooked finger, "and the northeast region where we’re going." A thumb marked the spot. "We’ll have to have a care."

"How long will it take us to get there?" Kate asked, trying to gauge the distance on the rudimentary map.

Nayim turned an eye towards the sun. "We’ll leave here within the hour, after loading up the jeep with fuel and supplies. It will be rough going, some of it off-road, becoming more mountainous as we go. And then there are the land mines to watch out for, not to mention El-Yousef’s people hanging about, the closer we get to Birat. I’d say," he thoughtfully massaged his beard, "approximately two, two and a half day’s journey at most."

"That’s a point, regarding El-Yousef’s people," Kate pushed away from the table and rocked back on her heels. "We can’t just drive right the hell into Birat."

"No," Ahmed agreed. "The town itself is like a miniature country, completely loyal to… the Chosen One. We’d be spotted instantly. I’m confident that if we can get to within nine or ten kilometers of Birat, we can travel the rest of the way in on foot, under cover of darkness." His dark eyes captured Kate’s in a weighty stare. "I know exactly where the communications post is hidden in the hillside. Allah knows, I helped to set it up myself. They won’t be expecting… visitors in the middle of the night, crawling out of the mountains. We can surprise them, get the data we need on here," he produced several computer discs, "and get out. If we do this thing right, we can be out and away before the alarm is raised. And with the right information, data I know how to retrieve," Ahmed tapped the discs, "El-Yousef will be out of business."

"Let’s talk about the ‘getting out’ part of the operation some more," Becky said, pulling her knees up under her chin. "I’m still a little fuzzy on that."

"I know a secluded spot about nine kilometers away from Birat where it would be possible to keep the jeep out of sight," Nayim volunteered.

"Good. That’ll do." Kate rose. "Then that’s where Ahmed and I will meet you and Rebecca once we get out of Birat. If we’re not back within 12 hours, or if it looks like things have gone bad," she looked evenly at Nayim, "then I want you to take off. Get yourselves to safety."

"Whoa… wait a minute!" Becky held up the palms of her hands, her face looking like the sky before a thunderstorm. "I don’t think we discussed this part of the plan, Kate."

"No, we didn’t." Kate replied, her mouth set in a thin line. "And it’s not open for discussion. Period."

"But Kate!" the younger woman protested, leaping angrily to her feet, "Rory told me what to look for, the hidden directories, encryption codes… the file extensions. I can do this thing!"

"I know you can," Kate said quietly, avoiding the wrath of her lover’s gaze, "but Ahmed can do it better."

"Kate…." Becky’s voice cracked as the sting of Kate’s words struck her like a slap in the face. "Please…." The blonde was acutely aware of the scene she was making in front of Ahmed and Nayim, but she didn’t give a damn. She tugged on the pilot’s arm, spinning her around to face her. "I thought we were in this together."

"We are!"

"Then don’t shut me out now."

"I’m not Rebecca, believe me!" the pilot lifted pained, blue eyes to her. "Stealth is the key to this mission. If we’re lucky, El-Yousef won’t even know we’ve been there. The more people involved, the greater the risk we’ll be detected."

Becky faltered, hard-pressed to argue with that logic. "But Kate," her eyes grew moist as she took in the tall, impassive figure standing in front of her, "what if… if you need me?" Oh God, she thought with no small degree of mortification, I will not cry. I will not cry.

"What I need," Kate reached out a hand to clasp Becky’s shoulder, "is to know that you and Nayim are safely waiting for us, so we can make a quick getaway and make sure El-Yousef gets the punishment he deserves."

"B- but what if the missile strike happens before then?" Darn it! Kate’s image was starting to swim before her eyes.

"Then what you and Nayim do for us becomes even more important. We’ll double-time it back to you," Kate said calmly, as if it were the most logical, certain thing in the world, "and you’ll have to have that Jeep fired up and ready to go. Right, Nayim?"

"Oh, absolutely, Miss Kate!" the trader smiled. "We take off like Luke Skywalker!"

"There, you see?!" Kate grazed Becky’s chin with the crook of an index finger, forcing the smaller woman to look her in the eye. "Please," the pilot’s voice dropped low so that only Becky could hear. "I need you to do this one thing for me. Promise me, okay, Champ?"

Conflicting emotions swirled within the flight attendant. She’d imagined herself sticking by Kate’s side through the whole thing, but now… heck, what her friend was saying made sense. And, she wouldn’t be left alone. Nayim would be with her, too. Such a sweet man. Still, it hurt to be left out of the final exercise, no matter how much she tried to rationalize those feelings. More than that, she knew what lay at the core of her distress. It was her concern for the well being of Captain Catherine Phillips. Why, just the thought of something happening to Kate made her stomach seize up as though she’d been on one hell of a roller-coaster ride. Well, whenever and wherever Kate needed her, she would be there. She would not let her down.

"I promise," Becky said at last, biting her lip and blinking back the tears. "But you promise me something, too."

"Anything."

"Come back to me, Kate."

"Are you kidding?" The pilot pulled her into an embrace at that. "The devil himself couldn’t keep me away."

Continued in Part 7