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Authors: Clarissa Cartharn
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them.”
“Yeah.” He glanced up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in it for miles. “But it allows me to think.”
He strode towards the makeshift rustic tin-shed that acted as the garage. He wanted to get away as far as he could from this dreaded place. But where could he go to escape her cries? No matter where he went, which way he turned, they still loomed loud and echoing in his mind.
“Adam.” The heavy, bass voice broke through his thoughts. Adam froze briefly. Hafiz Sajadi. He was one of the oldest members of Darul-Ilhaam. And perhaps one of the slyest. Under his religious garb, he had overseen a number of brutal killings. Women and children made no difference to him if they stood in the way of his cause.
“Hafiz,” he acknowledged as he continued to work at the engine under the car bonnet.
“When are you taking your vows?”
“I’ve spoken to Mullah Wahidi and arranged it for tomorrow evening.”
The man made a noise in his throat. Adam gave him a quiet side-glance. What was the bastard thinking?
“I don’t understand why you think there is a need to marry her,” Hafiz muttered. “Why not just get rid of the bitch?”
He tensed and then straightened-up with as much normality as possible without trying to punch the weasel in the face.
“That would spoil the fun,” he mumbled, wiping his greasy hands on an oil-stained rag. “It’s easy to put a bullet in a whore. It’s harder to keep her faithful.”
“Well, she’s making a lot of noise. Quiet her down or I’ll have to.”
Adam ambled up to the man so he stood nose to nose with him. “I respect that you’ve been in the organization for a long time. But the last man who dared to challenge my authority had his tongue ripped out of his mouth.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Adam smirked. He turned away and slammed the bonnet shut. “No. I’m merely stating the facts.”
The older man leaned against another car, observing him. His fingers slowly rotated a necklace of prayer breads as he silently recited his religious verses.
“The Zawahiris are closing in on their negotiations with the poppy farmers. They’re offering them better deals. And those refusing to make a deal with them are getting their crops destroyed. Shouldn’t you be addressing this matter rather than the foreign bitch in your room?” Hafiz asked with curiosity.
“Are you teaching me how to do my job?” Adam asked nonchalantly.
Hafiz sneered. “I think you’ve made it abundantly clear you’re in authority. As an advisor of Darul-Ilhaam, I am though very concerned about your recent lack of judgments regarding your obsession with this woman.”
Adam tossed the towel casually onto a shelf. “She’s a toy, Hafiz. That’s all she is. Every boy has one. I’ll get rid of her once I’m done with her.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m quite possessive about my toys. And I can get pretty irrational when I find they’re lost or been tampered with.”
Hafiz fixed his scarf about his shoulders. “Get the Zawahiris off our opium, Adam. You may have most of Darul-Ilhaam on your side at the moment. But there is no guarantee that is how it will stay. After all, when it comes to the crucial moments, our brothers would prefer investing their loyalty on those born on Afghan soil.”
HAPTER 6
Nora rose up slowly and strolled tiredly over to the small table by the window. In her rage, she had tipped over the plate of food that had been left there for her. It lay scattered about the table and the floor. The naan bread had fallen onto the floor by the leg of a chair.
She squatted to pick it up, dusting the dirt off it. Rising up again, she placed it on her plate and salvaged the little she could of the qorma. She tore her bread and dipped it into the sauce of the stewed chicken. She took two bites before realizing that there was more bread than sauce. She looked down at the puddle of sauce on the floor and
“Yeah.” He glanced up at the sky. There wasn’t a cloud in it for miles. “But it allows me to think.”
He strode towards the makeshift rustic tin-shed that acted as the garage. He wanted to get away as far as he could from this dreaded place. But where could he go to escape her cries? No matter where he went, which way he turned, they still loomed loud and echoing in his mind.
“Adam.” The heavy, bass voice broke through his thoughts. Adam froze briefly. Hafiz Sajadi. He was one of the oldest members of Darul-Ilhaam. And perhaps one of the slyest. Under his religious garb, he had overseen a number of brutal killings. Women and children made no difference to him if they stood in the way of his cause.
“Hafiz,” he acknowledged as he continued to work at the engine under the car bonnet.
“When are you taking your vows?”
“I’ve spoken to Mullah Wahidi and arranged it for tomorrow evening.”
The man made a noise in his throat. Adam gave him a quiet side-glance. What was the bastard thinking?
“I don’t understand why you think there is a need to marry her,” Hafiz muttered. “Why not just get rid of the bitch?”
He tensed and then straightened-up with as much normality as possible without trying to punch the weasel in the face.
“That would spoil the fun,” he mumbled, wiping his greasy hands on an oil-stained rag. “It’s easy to put a bullet in a whore. It’s harder to keep her faithful.”
“Well, she’s making a lot of noise. Quiet her down or I’ll have to.”
Adam ambled up to the man so he stood nose to nose with him. “I respect that you’ve been in the organization for a long time. But the last man who dared to challenge my authority had his tongue ripped out of his mouth.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Adam smirked. He turned away and slammed the bonnet shut. “No. I’m merely stating the facts.”
The older man leaned against another car, observing him. His fingers slowly rotated a necklace of prayer breads as he silently recited his religious verses.
“The Zawahiris are closing in on their negotiations with the poppy farmers. They’re offering them better deals. And those refusing to make a deal with them are getting their crops destroyed. Shouldn’t you be addressing this matter rather than the foreign bitch in your room?” Hafiz asked with curiosity.
“Are you teaching me how to do my job?” Adam asked nonchalantly.
Hafiz sneered. “I think you’ve made it abundantly clear you’re in authority. As an advisor of Darul-Ilhaam, I am though very concerned about your recent lack of judgments regarding your obsession with this woman.”
Adam tossed the towel casually onto a shelf. “She’s a toy, Hafiz. That’s all she is. Every boy has one. I’ll get rid of her once I’m done with her.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m quite possessive about my toys. And I can get pretty irrational when I find they’re lost or been tampered with.”
Hafiz fixed his scarf about his shoulders. “Get the Zawahiris off our opium, Adam. You may have most of Darul-Ilhaam on your side at the moment. But there is no guarantee that is how it will stay. After all, when it comes to the crucial moments, our brothers would prefer investing their loyalty on those born on Afghan soil.”
HAPTER 6
Nora rose up slowly and strolled tiredly over to the small table by the window. In her rage, she had tipped over the plate of food that had been left there for her. It lay scattered about the table and the floor. The naan bread had fallen onto the floor by the leg of a chair.
She squatted to pick it up, dusting the dirt off it. Rising up again, she placed it on her plate and salvaged the little she could of the qorma. She tore her bread and dipped it into the sauce of the stewed chicken. She took two bites before realizing that there was more bread than sauce. She looked down at the puddle of sauce on the floor and
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