The options for Zemar and Saleha were decreasing rapidly. Randal had come by with the discouraging update. Zemar and Saleha had come to his office to hear it.
“It looks like Montreal is out now. They have a son and two daughters, all of them are under twelve. They also still have family in Afghanistan who are being harassed.” Randal shrugged an apology.
Saleha said, “They have a good life in Canada. They have too much to lose. They do not need to apologize.”
Zemar said, “We do not want to bring the risk of harm to anyone.”
Randal began pacing. “Your relatives in Amsterdam are getting jittery, too. An al-Qaeda cell was recently discovered and arrested there. AIVD isn’t giving out details, but supposedly leaked information indicates the cell was activated to carry out a number of reprisals on expatriates they believe betrayed them. If that leak is correct, your cousins are on that list.”
Craig said, “They’re looking to get out of Amsterdam as fast as they can.”
“There is one ironic twist in all of this,” Randal said. “Here may be the safest place for you.” He looked at Saleha. “Well, for one of you anyway.”
“That’s not an option.”
Zemar said, “What is not an option?”
“My contact at DHS-ICE and I were having a hypothetical discussion last week about what it would take for a brother and sister from Afghanistan who were smuggled into the US to stay.”
“It would accomplish nothing.”
Saleha said, “What would it take?”
“In this hypothetical situation, the brother would turn himself in and provide all the information he had on Taliban activity in Afghanistan.”
He said, “Zemar’s been gone for over five years. All his information is out of date.”
“What would we get for this cooperation?” Zemar said.
“Saleha would get a new identity and citizenship immediately. She could complete her education and become a vet.”
“And what would I get?”
“You’d get the same thing after you returned.”
“They’d send me back to work undercover.”
“You know the problem we have trying to collect intelligence. We tend to stand out in the Middle East. But you’d fit right in.”
“Is this hypothetical proposal likely to happen if I—”
“You’re not going back.”
“Craig, please. I know the risks as well as anyone. If Saleha gets a new identity and citizenship, it would be worth it.”
Saleha took hold of Zemar’s hand. “No, it wouldn’t.”
“Fifty percent is not a success,” he said. “What if someone recognizes you once your back? What if you don’t return? We don’t even know if this hypothetical scenario is legitimate.”
They all looked at Randal.
“Everything we try has its risks, but my sense was that it would likely have been a go if you agreed to return to Afghanistan.” He shook his head. “But after Houston, Chicago and LA, this hypothetical might be off the table now. It could be dangerous just bringing it up again.”
Craig went to Saleha and Zemar. “Brazil is still an option.”
“We should leave as soon as possible,” Saleha said. “The risk for everyone if we stay here is too high.”
“We will get you somewhere safe, I promise. We haven’t come this far to fail.”
Randal said, “We are not done yet. Do not give up hope.”
Saleha let go of Zemar’s hand and bowed her head. “We can only thank you for all that you have done for us. What will be, will be. We are at peace with that.”
“Well, I’m not, not by a long shot.”
“Sooner or later, we will be discovered. Too many people know of us now. Sheriff McGowan might start asking uncomfortable questions about us.” She looked at Randal. “Over here, we tend to stand out.”
“She already has.”
Zemar said, “Then the risk to everyone has become too great. We do not want to cause trouble for you two or anyone else.”
“No one else here knows about your past but us.”
“Be realistic, Craig. What do you think association with us would mean for them? Would your DHS-ICE believe no one here had some suspicion about us?”
Saleha went to the window and looked out. “Innocent people who might not all support us if they knew the truth could have their lives ruined.” She turned around. “That would include a lovely girl who has just arrived for work, and her mother.”
“I have work to do, too,” Zemar said.
He and Saleha left.
Randal sighed. “What are we going to do? This is starting to go south on us.”
“We have to convince the people in Brazil to take them. Is the escape route ready?”
“Give the word and they can be out within forty-eight hours. By the way, the cousins in Amsterdam are trying to get to Brazil now, too. It could get crowded down there, making it harder for them to hide.”
“We can’t let them down; not after everything they’ve been through. Not after what Zemar did for us in Afghanistan.”
“Then we won’t. I’m on it.” Randal left.
He went to the window and watched Saleha, Shana and Caesar walking to the hospital to start work.
Zemar would be going back to eavesdropping on the Colter farm and trying to find out who else had piggybacked onto Colter’s website to spy on him. He was also trying to make sense of what they had witnessed when they had spied on the farm last night: an outbuilding about the size of a four-car garage that seemed to be able to house a half-dozen vehicles ranging in size from two John Deere tractors to a five-ton van.
Sometimes it seemed more like they were operating their own clandestine cell than a farm. Their spying was ramping up Zemar’s anxiety to a dangerous level. He was close to going after Colter on his own. What would the DHS and FBI think of what they were doing? What would Joan think?
Zemar had a valid point about the danger everyone on the farm was facing, though no one else knew the true story behind their presence here. Zemar had saved his unit from a suicide bomber as they were about to evacuate, but there was no evidence to prove that. Any investigation of the incident was more likely to discover that Zemar had originally been the designated suicide bomber.
And now Shana was involved, too, and by extension, Joan.
He felt a chill go down his spine. All their good intentions were threatening to blow up in their faces and take out innocent people as collateral damage.
The phone rang, sending the chill back up his spine.
“Dr. Harding speaking.”
“It’s Joan.”
“Good morning. How are you?”
“I shot the washing machine after Shana left. It was the humane thing to do.”
“I’ll back you up if anyone asks.”
“Craig, I think we should talk.”
Joan was too smart and too experienced not to get suspicious when things didn’t look right, or didn’t appear to fit properly. Her daughter was working here now. She would naturally be protective and want to investigate. There were the allegations against Colter. Even Joan’s alternative scenarios still came back to him. There was Zemar and Saleha. She’d find no record of either of them if she looked, which she’d eventually do if she hadn’t already. Any serious conversation with her wouldn’t likely end well.
“What would you like to talk about?”
“What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“I know this place that serves a great beef dip. Be there at noon or I’ll come get you, and I’ll bring my handcuffs.”
He hung up. “You only have yourself to blame for this.”