Saving Brigit (9 page)

“I should have told you right away. I had the phone number Brigit gave her parents. I called and left a message for that bastard Omar to call me.”

He swerved into the lane beside them, causing a flurry of horns. “You called the house here in Islamabad?”

“Well, yes. I didn’t think it would hurt anything, and I had a few minutes. I didn’t need to wait for the embassy to make a phone call, did I?”

“I called there yesterday and did a drive-by of the location,” he said. “The man Omar isn’t there, and I was told he’d left the country. If you want my opinion, he’s already back in the States. If he brought your friend here for what I think, he’d have no reason to stay beyond his business arrangements.”

“I was told he’d be back soon. I left the woman I spoke with my number at the hotel, and she said she’d ask him to call me. What do you think happened to Brigit?”

Rashid took his eyes off the road for a moment to give her a sharp look. “Slavery. It’s unfortunately a big business, and American women are worth a lot.”

Chills slithered down Thia’s back. “Why don’t you think they came here for what he told her, to visit his family? Maybe she’s simply away from a phone or something.” But she knew in her heart that wasn’t the answer. She and July had discussed how unlikely it was Brigit would make her parents worry.

He shot her a look. “She was due home more than a week ago. Is she so irresponsible?”

Thia sighed. “No.”

Rashid nodded. “Neither is Omar the kind of man who brings home a blond, non-Muslim girl to meet his parents. His reputation is more…unsavory.”

If he was right, how would she ever tell July that her niece might be lost in a dark, underground world? For the first time, Thia wondered if a few days of embassy questions would be enough to find Brigit and get her home.

“I’ll take you by the hotel so you can freshen up and then we’ll go to the embassy. Or do you need to rest with jet lag?”

Brigit’s possible fate filled her mind with dread. Resting could wait.

“Let’s go on to the embassy,” she said. “If Omar is as you described, surely they will know something about him.”

Rashid swung the car around to the left and merged into another line of traffic. “Don’t hold your breath,” he muttered.

It had been a tiring, disappointing day, and Thia showered and fell into bed immediately after dinner. Rashid had treated her to a meal at the hotel. He’d offered to introduce her to a Pakistani dish laden with seasonings, but that afternoon she’d developed a slight case of nausea and had an essentially Western meal of chicken and vegetables. She couldn’t be sure her upset stomach wasn’t from travel and fatigue, but she rather thought it was due to the bad news at the American embassy and Rashid’s dire predictions about Brigit’s fate.

Rashid intrigued her. The man hadn’t smiled all day, not a single time. He’d been polite, but not friendly. Seeming a little miffed about her phone call to Omar’s place, he’d dropped his unemotional attitude for a moment, but then had gone right back to acting like a man trying not to show he was sitting on a tack.

Men were so funny. She’d been able to come up with information he hadn’t—she, a woman and amateur. Another woman would have said, “You go, girl,” and been happy to receive the news that Omar was still available to be questioned, but men let pride get in their way of appreciating a woman’s talents, or her luck.

Sadly, Rashid seemed to be only too right in his warning about how little help the embassy would be. The official she’d finally met with told her that Brigit was of age, she’d come to Pakistan on her own, without going through normal procedures and against the strong “suggestions” of the government. The man had looked pointedly at Thia then, letting her know he thought the same of her actions. He went on to say that unless Thia had evidence certain that Brigit was in danger, there was nothing the embassy could do.
Great, my tax dollars at work.

Over dinner, Rashid told her more of what he’d learned about Omar since talking to Michael a couple of days ago. The man was from Tajikistan, a region to the north that had once been part of the Soviet Union. The terrain was wild and rugged, which bred the same kind of people, considered uncivilized and lawless by outsiders.

If Omar is any example, the whole country should be blown up and started over
, Thia had thought at the time. Rashid, though polite, hadn’t changed her mind much. His aloof attitude had begun to wear on her by the evening’s end, and she felt a tension below the surface that spoke of danger. Yes, he’d worked with Michael, but had he always worked for “the good guys”? She thought not.

Rashid had discovered where Omar’s family lived in Tajikistan, as well as that the place in Islamabad belonged to Omar’s cousin. He had nothing good to report on any of the family members except the young sister who seemed to be an obedient, innocent girl. The more he revealed of his quick investigation, the more Thia worried.

For one hour and then two, she lay in bed thinking over everything that had happened since she arrived, too worried to put it from her mind and too tired to sleep. She looked at the clock for the last time at midnight, and then, simply fell off the face of the earth into oblivion.

Sharp, relentless ringing woke her. Thia opened her eyes and spent a few seconds wondering where she was. She remembered where first, and then why. Blindly, she reached for the phone, knocking it from the cradle.

“Hello,” she croaked when she had the receiver in hand. She pulled back her hair and stared at the clock. 2 a.m. Had she been asleep only two hours? It felt like days.

“Mrs. Williams?” The man’s voice carried only the hint of an accent. Was it Rashid?

“Yes. Who is this?” Thia struggled to untangle her legs from the sheets and sit up while holding the phone.

“Did you not call earlier and ask to speak with me?” His words asked a question, but his voice held a trace of amusement.

Omar! Frantically, Thia tried to get her wits about her, to think of what to say that wouldn’t scare him off. “Oh! Yes. Thank you for calling back. Although, maybe you could have chosen a time other than two in the morning?”

“I can hang up—”

“No! Just…just hold on a minute while I try to wake up.” She took a breath and shook her head to clear the cobwebs clouding her thoughts. “I believe you know my friend Brigit.”

“Yes. Delightful girl.” Again there was a smile in his tone. Thia wished she could slap him silly.

“Well, you see, she came here with you to visit your family and hasn’t come home. Can you tell me anything about that?”
You scumbag.

“Alas, I cannot. Brigit didn’t come to visit my family, Mrs. Williams. She and I were but friends. As a non-Muslim, she could be nothing more, you understand?”

“Oh. Her family is under a different impression.”

“That is nothing to me.”

She could almost see his shrug.

He continued, “She wanted to see Pakistan. I told her I would escort her, but after we arrived, she wanted to see things, to do things that I, as a gentleman and Muslim, could not condone. I had to let her go her own way.”

What a pack of lies.
Still, what did Thia know to deny any of it? “She called her parents from the house I phoned this morning.”

“Yes. I was afraid she would be a bad influence on my female cousins, so I got her out of there as soon as possible.”

He halted, as though waiting to see what she would do or say next. Like a cat letting the mouse play the next act, but always knowing who would win in the end.

“Isn’t there
something
you can tell me? I can’t go back to the States empty-handed.”

“Have you gone to your embassy?”

“Yes. They can’t do anything.”

“Did you tell them about my bringing your friend here?”

For the first time, his voice sounded interested in her answer. Thia straightened her spine, aware that what she said next would be of major importance. “I had to, but they seemed to have no knowledge of you.” His momentary silence could have meant he was pleased or disappointed by that information.

“Are you here with anyone who can help you? This is a big city for someone unfamiliar. And dangerous, as I’m afraid Brigit might have discovered.”

“I hired someone just for the day to help me get to the embassy and hotel, but no, I’m here alone. I haven’t even told anyone at home where I am except for the barest of explanations. You see, I feel somewhat responsible for Brigit’s coming here. I’ve always encouraged her to do whatever she felt like.”

“Well…” He waited a moment and then continued, “I might have some idea of where to start looking for her. And as you have no one else, I will now serve as your guide.”

Like caster oil, his voice made her want to gag. “I can’t tell you how much I would appreciate that. Thank you.”

“Get dressed and go downstairs. Ask for a taxi. In English, you would call it

“Now?” she squeaked. “But it’s—“

“I am leaving early this morning for the United States. It is only out of a sense of fairness that I help you. After all, though I had no idea she was such a wild girl, Brigit did come here with me.”

“Okay, yes. Tell me the name of the street again so I can write it down.” She scribbled it phonetically on the notepad by the phone. “It will take me a few minutes. I, uh, I took a sleeping pill and need to shower so I can wake up a bit.”

“I will meet you in one hour. No more, Mrs. Williams, or I’ll be forced to abandon our meeting, and you will not enjoy being in that part of town alone.” On that threat, he hung up.

Thia scrambled to find her purse where she’d put Rashid’s number. With trembling fingers, she punched the buttons on the face pad, praying he’d be there.

He didn’t sound the least bit sleepy. Thank God. “Rashid? I just had a call from Omar.”

“Yes?” Impatience bit in that one word.

She told him the gist of the conversation, wincing at the curse he made when she told him where and when she was to meet Omar.

“What should I do?” she asked when she’d relayed everything.

“As he instructed. I can’t take the chance on meeting you at the hotel. He has relatives here and will no doubt have them watching the hotel lobby. He might even know you had dinner with someone tonight and wonder if you are alone.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I will arrive at the meeting point ahead of you. Do not worry. Just follow his instructions.”

“Trust me, Thia. I am looking forward to this.” He hung up.

Thia hung up, too, unsettled, but reassured. She’d swear that for the first time since meeting him, Rashid was smiling.

New York, the city that supposedly never sleeps, could take a lesson from Islamabad. Thia had never seen a place with more people out and about so early in the morning. But the farther from the hotel the taxi traveled, the quieter—and darker—the streets became. The concierge at the hotel had wrinkled his face in concern when she asked for a cab and told him the address. He’d agreed to hire a taxi only because she told him she’d find one on her own if he didn’t. She’d mentally noted that she’d have to apologize to him later. Now, seeing the section of town where the driver took her, she hoped she’d be returning to make that apology. She twisted her hands in her lap. What if Rashid didn’t come?

Of course he’ll come, you ninny
. Mr. Optimist had woken in full force, minus any signs of jet lag.

But what if he’s delayed? Has a flat? Stops for a sandwich?
Good old Pessimist gave as good as he got.

Don’t be such a twit. Rashid is like Michael and Derek, a professional. If he said he’ll be there, he will. You wouldn’t be doubting Derek right now, would you?

She looked out the window. Tenements rose on each side of the street, which was no longer paved, but simply dirt packed to a hard surface. Poverty encompassed the area. Figures, shadows against shadows, hovered at the corners of buildings, and Thia imagined she could see the whites of their eyes following the cab as it crawled down the street.

Right now, I’d doubt my own mother would venture here to help me.

The cab came to a halt and the driver swiveled in his seat to stare. “Here?” His brow knitted, he pointed at the building before which he’d stopped. “Not here.” He shook his head as though in denial that anyone, much less a Western woman alone, could have indicated this address.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Afraid was the operative word.

Buck up. Rashid is no doubt already here, just as he said he would be.

As was custom, she supposed, she’d paid for the cab ride at the hotel, with the concierge performing the bargaining. She opened the door and stepped out. Heat from the day had abated somewhat, but to a San Franciscan like her, the air was still quite warm. The jersey blouse and slacks she’d thrown on after her shower clung to her. Her flat-heeled shoes settled firmly on the street, but the dirt was so hard, she doubted even heels would have made an impression. That didn’t seem to affect the amount of dust swirling through the air, though. A sudden gust sent paper up into a corkscrew of grit and dirt, tap-dancing across the street in front of the cab. An odor of grease and fetid material chased after it.

Thia glanced back into the cab, wishing she could get in and ride away from this place, but the driver had started pulling away as soon as her feet hit ground and she stood up. The door slammed shut with the cab’s forward movement, and suddenly she was alone in the scariest place she’d ever been in her life.

Silence fell over the street. Not even a dog barked. At the sound of scuttling, she looked over and saw a rat run along the building. It stopped, turned to her, and reared up on its hind feet. Involuntarily, she took a step back into the street. It dropped to all fours and ran on.

“This is how many Pakistanis live while you in the States eat chocolate and worry about when you’re getting your manicures,” a man’s smooth voice said from the darkness. “How do you like it?”