More Than Strangers (8 page)

“There is no security situation.” Dan made a disgusted sound. “There’s no security, period. The PHP recruited a bunch of health care nerds and gave them all plane tickets to Karachi. That’s about it.”

Jason shook his head in disbelief. “They should have brought us in six months ago. What did you tell Zahra? Judging from her e-mail, you royally pissed her off.”

Dan and the Sheika had a contentious relationship. Since most of her pet charities were located in South Asia, Jason couldn’t always play ambassador.

His friend rolled his eyes. “I told her whatever local security company she hired was bollocks. I then advised her to give all her employees a plane ticket to Dubai. Her heart’s in the right place, but she has tunnel vision. She only sees the good they’re doing and is oblivious to the risks.”

Jason lifted a brow. Dan had a tendency of sounding more British when he was upset. “You know how passionate she is about TB and polio. Her mother died of the former and her little brother is crippled because of the latter. You could have tried to be more diplomatic.”

He saw a muscle tick over Dan’s jaw. “The princess was about to get on a plane and come here—that’s how bloody passionate she is. Thank God her visa wasn’t approved. She can care about TB and polio someplace safe.”

“Isn’t her mother’s family from Karachi?” Having attended the same boarding school as Zahra’s brother, Dan knew her better than Jason did. Her family had hosted Dan every summer break throughout his teenage years. But now that he and the Sheika were both adults, they were constantly at each other’s throats.

“That means jack shit. This is not a city where foreigners can traipse around unprotected, Her Royal Highness included. The three idiots she sent here only signed up because they’re her friends. How do you think she’ll feel if they get blown to bits?”

Dan seemed to care a tad too much about Zahra’s feelings. Jason decided not to comment. “So they’re only three of them?”

“Three Americans, two Frenchmen, two Germans and one Japanese lady.” Shaking his head, Dan continued. “The non-Americans had enough brains to fly out of here after their consulates chased them down and told them they were blooming idiots. Our idealistic brethren, not so much.”

Of course, it wasn’t going to be easy. “Where are the three of them staying?”

Dan was eager to expand upon what he obviously felt was a ridiculous situation. “You’re going to love this. Some genius decided to house them all in one big villa in the best part of town.”

Jason let out a low whistle. “Talk about a terrorist’s wet dream.”

Dan continued his tirade. “There’s one guard posted at the door. He has a shotgun, but I don’t think he knows how to use it. They don’t have a car or driver. They ride motor rickshaws all over the city. The fact that this place is a terrorist vacation spot seems to have escaped all three.”

Massaging the bridge of his nose, Jason sighed. “See if you can pin down their locations and arrange pickups. Have our expeditors buy them plane tickets. I don’t care to where. Give me half an hour to shower, and I’ll take a look at those profiles you e-mailed me in case we have trouble tracking them down. I didn’t like the look of that warden message. We’re getting those three out of here even if it means hog-tying and tossing them all onto a plane.”

“Can I call Zahra and tell her that?” Dan looked almost gleeful. His partner had a habit of saying “I told you so” at the least opportune moments.

Jason was tempted, but pissing off the princess wasn’t a pleasure their company could yet afford. “I’m calling her right now. Keep your mouth shut.”

Jason stared at the tablet’s glowing screen. It was the exact background he expected from some bleeding-heart health worker idealistic enough to administer a TB-testing program in the slums of Pakistan.

Citizenship: American

Age: 26

Education: M.S. in Public Health, Johns Hopkins University, B.A./M.A. in Biological Sciences, Georgetown University

Still unable to process what he had read, his gaze flitted back to the profile’s first line. He focused on the words that had rooted him to the spot. Even now, it felt as if ice were flowing through his veins. He refused to believe it. She couldn’t possibly be this idiotic.

But no matter how long he stared, the document didn’t change. This wasn’t a nightmare.

Name: Nulli O’Hara.

God
damn
it.

Next to the name was a headshot of the same blue-eyed redhead he corresponded with every day—the same person who was responsible for him not having had sex in over six months. They had never verbalized an agreement to be exclusive, but no other woman felt right.

Until now, he had thought they knew a great deal about each other. It was becoming glaringly apparent she had left a lot out of their daily chats. She had described the shoes she bought, the food stalls she frequented, and even expressed concerns about coworkers leaving the city. But she had never given any indication she had moved to an unofficial war zone.

Still reeling from the discovery, he took out his phone and read her last message.

TBGeek: Buying fruit at Sunday Market. There’s oranges…and more oranges. I’d kill for a strawberry right now.

Bits and pieces of past conversations suddenly made sense, and they combined to piss him off. With great difficulty, he suppressed the urge to throw his phone into the wood-paneled wall.

His little idiot had left Dubai to come here—a city fraught with violent crimes and terrorist attacks. There were more targeted killings in this country than anywhere else in the world. Of course, she would be buying oranges. It made perfect sense.

His instinct was to jump into an armored vehicle and drive around town looking for her. If law and order existed, he would call the police. In this city, it was a waste of time. “Dan, where are we on locating the three squints?”

Dan’s dark head popped through the door. Since embracing the private sector, they took certain luxuries as their due. The suite had a living room, kitchenette, and two adjoining bedrooms each with a private bathroom. “My guys grabbed the two polio experts and drove them to the airport. Both are on the next flight out.”

Jason’s jaw clenched. “And the TB project manager?”

His friend shook his head. “I’m having trouble locating her. She’s not answering my calls, and her tail lost her at Sunday Bazaar. I wouldn’t be too worried. No one answers their cell phones here—too many crank calls and spam texts. She’ll head back to the villa soon, and we can pick her up from there.”

That wasn’t good enough. Jason had a bad feeling in his gut, and he couldn’t take emotion out of it. This wasn’t a stranger—this was his Nulli. She wasn’t safe, and it was driving him insane. He tapped out a message with unsteady fingers.

JR: Where are you now?

An eternity seemed to pass in the span of a few minutes. She could have been kidnapped. She could be dead. She could be—

His phone’s screen flashed.

TBGeek: Eating fro-yo at the mall. *sniffs air* Burgers and fries are tempting me.

He felt like smashing something. The damn BlackBerry was a good place to start. He would be tempted if it wasn’t the single line of communication she was responding to. Considering his lack of expertise in this city, he had no choice but to loop Dan in. “She’s at the mall. Do we have a car with GPS?”

His friend walked through the door and sat on the adjacent armchair. “You’re going to have to be more specific. Which mall, and how do you know she’s at one?”

In lieu of an explanation, Jason slid the phone across the coffee table. Dan glanced at the messenger screen. He frowned as he picked it up. With a flick of his forefinger, he scrolled through the previous conversations. It didn’t take him long to get the gist. “You’re in a relationship with one of the people we’re here to protect? When were you going to tell me?”

A penchant for hyperbole was one of Dan’s more aggravating traits. “I wouldn’t call it a relationship. She and I just keep tabs on each other. And I told you as soon as I knew.”

Dan narrowed his eyes. “You average several dozen messages a day. That’s a lot of tab-keeping. While we’re on the subject, how did the topic of her being in Pakistan never come up?”

Jason sighed. “It just didn’t. Like I said, we’re not involved.”

“Sure. Keep saying that and maybe one of us will believe it.” Dan sent the phone flying back. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. She’ll be fine. I know which mall she’s at. There’s only one place here that makes actual burgers. Do you want me to drive?”

The decision had a number of implications. The chances terrorists were actively following Nulli weren’t high. Since their mission was to incite fear, they tended to target places, not people. It should be a straightforward pickup, but something felt off. Jason had learned a long time ago it was always best to trust his instincts. “I’m assuming GPS works.”

“To a degree.” His friend didn’t sound very confident.

“I’ll drive one of the FAVs. Follow me and circle the block once I get there.”

Dan gave him an inquiring look. “We’re recommending they leave because the city itself is dangerous, not because they’re being targeted for kidnapping. That mall is pretty secure. Don’t you think an entourage is overkill?”

Jason shrugged the objection away. “When it comes to her, I’d rather play it safe.”

“In that case,” Dan offered, “you’ll probably want to gear up. The sofa has a pullout drawer at the base. I stashed some weapons in there. Take your pick.”

* * * *

Nulli was having a very nice day. After a period of spotty communication, Jason was back to a more regular messaging schedule. It was odd how a few sentences a day did wonders for her mood, but she decided long ago not to overthink what they had. It was working, it was safe, and it was all she had the energy to handle.

The past week had been crappy. There was no other way to describe it. Graffiti calling for the death of infidels was everywhere. A sense of oppression filled the air, and each time she left the house she felt like she was being followed.

Religious fanatics were spreading rumors the polio vaccine was a conspiracy to neuter the Muslim population, and too many people believed them. One of the major newspapers claimed Pakistan was under attack by the United States. They printed a retraction, but no one read those. Headlines were what counted.

With many of her colleagues skipping town, she was handling both their projects and her TB program. The two polio experts were already on the fence about leaving. She couldn’t blame them.

It was time to get out of Dodge. She hated to admit it, but the bad guys had won. Death threats were piling up, the polio project was at a standstill, and it was only a matter of time before TB tests were incorporated into yet another conspiracy theory. Her very American presence at the volunteer clinics made them bigger targets. The risk-reward equation wasn’t balanced.

Her team’s presence had been vital to getting the program off the ground, but the project was now settled enough to operate without her constant supervision. It was time to explore safer options. Dubai was an hour and a half flight away. She could suggest that Zahra base the Public Health Partnership there and have the team fly here whenever needed.

No matter what Nulli decided for the long-term, she needed a break. Things she took for granted—simple things like two-ply toilet paper and a Snickers bar—were as elusive here as the Holy Grail. Every mundane element of her life, from grocery shopping to obtaining safe drinking water, was a small orchestration. The concept of sanitation here was nonexistent. Mosquitoes swarmed her night and day. She couldn’t go five minutes without being assailed by the smell of dead chicken and car exhaust.

Aside from the people she worked with, it was difficult to make friends. People’s heads turned as she passed even though she wore local garb and had a shawl over her head. No matter where she went, she stood out. Most of the time she was unwelcome, and lately she felt a nagging sense of danger—as if she was being hunted. She knew it was silly. Yet she couldn’t shake it.

But today things were going well. The staring didn’t bother her. It somehow became part of the background. She had carried an easy banter with an NGO worker at Sunday Market who happened to grow up in Chicago. They shared a moment of kinship, and Nulli was reminded there were others with the means to leave who chose to stay. There were people here worth saving. Maybe she wasn’t crazy for coming after all?

On top of that, shop-therapy did wonders for the soul. She was now carrying enough fabric to make two long tunics and a sequined pair of shoes that matched her bright pink toenails. The seed-filled oranges she scarfed down at the market were sweet and refreshing. It gave her just enough energy to head over to the mall for some window-shopping. After looking at some pretty carpets and handbags, she bought an overpriced bottle of hand sanitizer before refueling with frozen yogurt. With the best burger joint in the city an escalator ride away, she couldn’t resist tossing aside all her lofty diet plans and went in search of red meat and fries.

This was the most normal day she’d had in the past six months. With shopping bags in hand, she steeled herself and made her way toward the sliding glass doors. It was time to get back to the real world.

Warm air washed over her, but she felt a sudden chill that had nothing to do with the weather. It was as if pinpricks of ice had formed over her skin. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She scanned the front of the mall. The wide-open concrete plaza usually had a small crowd milling about. Today there was no one—not even the shotgun-toting guards were at their usual post. The twenty or so yards that separated the mall entrance from the street was deserted.

She felt a sudden surge of adrenaline. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm, and her foot took an automatic step back. Something felt wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but every nerve in her body told her to run.

A large warm hand spanned her lower back and pushed her forward. “Keep moving.”

She would recognize that voice anywhere. “Jason?”