Page 41 of SEAL's Spitfire
“I understand. I know what I’m doing might be considered crazy, but I can’t just sit here while everyone gives us the runaround and my brother is out there hurt or worse.”
“I think you’re a brave woman, maybe a tad crazy. I wouldn’t want my wife doing what you’re about to. Rafe is going to have my head on a silver platter too. But I think you might have a chance as long as the Taliban don’t find out you’re related to one of the hostages.”
“I figured that. I got all the supplies you sent in the email, all the head coverings too.”
“Good. We just have to hope if you see your brother that he doesn’t blow your cover.”
“I know. But after all the different options we considered I still think this is the best.”
“I just emailed your flight information and your VISA. Make sure you memorize your cover story. I’ll check on Lizzie while you’re out of the country.”
“Thank you, Tex. For everything.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Save that for when you get back. Stick to the plan, check in on schedule and send the SOS if things go sideways.”
“I will.”
“Bye, Meghan. Be safe.”
“Thanks. I will.” After she disconnected the call, she dropped onto the bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she replayed Tex’s words. He’d been there, fought there, knew his way around and had connections. As long as his information was correct about where her brother was being held, she’d be fine. She had to be. All of her research into the Taliban over the last twenty-four hours would help too. They had a solid plan, she’d follow the instructions Tex had given her and carry out her mission. There was no room for failure.
* * *
Thirty hours later,her plane touched down at Kabul International Airport. It had been a long flight via Turkey, but she’d made it. Tex had gotten her there in one piece. But now she was on her own. Her press pass and the Visa that he’d secured got her through customs without an issue. As she made her way through the airport, she couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. It might have just been her imagination, but she’d swear that there were two men tailing her. She was a female traveling alone and definitely out of place with her western attire, but she’d prepared for that as well.
Pulling out her phone, she checked for messages, happy to see there weren’t any. No message meant no changes. Acquiring transportation to Bamyan was the next part of her plan. She’d start from the village where the group had been working to build the school. But first, she really needed to use the bathroom. Finally, she located the universal sign for restroom. Praying it wasn’t going to be weird, she was relieved to find the usual facilities. After washing up the best she could, she pulled out one of the hijabs from her bag and draped it over her head then wrapped it around her neck and shoulders. Tex assured her that it would be sufficient and that no one would expect her to wear a burqa.
After checking the mirror one last time to ensure her hair was covered properly, an image of Rafe flashed into her head. “Oh man, if he could see me now, I’d have my ass in a sling.” Just thinking about it almost made her laugh, but not quite. She wasn’t out of her mind, was she?
If it had been that bad, Tex would have talked her out of it. Or Lizzie would have, yet neither had put up much of a fight when she’d told them her plan. Instead, they’d all worked together to finesse all the arrangements until it was as close to perfect as possible. Now she just needed to stick to it, and that required she find transportation for the one hundred kilometer trip to the village.
After taking a deep breath and settling her pack on her shoulders, she made her way to the airport exit. Busier than expected, Tex told her to look for a bus rather than a taxi, that it would be safer, but there were taxis everywhere. Not sure when the next bus would come, or if there was a direct one to Bamyan, she debated on whether to chance grabbing one of the taxis anyway.
“Excuse me, are you Meghan Henley?” A deep British voice asked from behind her left shoulder. It startled her to hear her name.
“Yes,” she answered as she turned to face him, ready to run back into the airport terminal depending on what he did next. “Who are you and how do you know my name?” The man was medium height and average build and would blend in anywhere, there was absolutely nothing that made him stand out except for his accent.
“I apologize for startling you. My name is James Waltham. Your friend Tex said you might need a ride?”
“You know Tex?”
“I do. He contacted me last night and asked if I had time to take you on a tour of the countryside.”
“A tour?” She wished she could verify it with Tex. Why hadn’t he told her or sent her a message? Maybe he hadn’t thought it was necessary, or maybe she was walking into a trap. “I’m not sure.” She really wasn’t.
Waltham grabbed her by the elbow and led her away from the crowds exiting the terminal. She felt like a fish out of water and wasn’t sure what to believe. “I am sure you are concerned about my credentials,” he said as he pulled out his wallet and opened it to show her his license and his name badge. “Didn’t Tex tell you I would be meeting you?”
“No, he didn’t. I checked my messages when I arrived and there was nothing. He grunted and she took a step back, making sure she had enough room to dart around him if she needed to. The years of Zumba classes might finally come in handy. She was about to say thanks no thanks when her pocket vibrated. Watching him carefully, she slipped her phone out and glanced at it. The text message appeared on the screen.
Sent help for your trip. James is qualified and you can trust him. Tex.
Her relief was tangible as she re-read the message. “Actually, it looks like he did. Maybe it was delayed since my phone was off.”
Waltham smiled. “Now that’s settled, are you ready to go? It’s about a three hour trip.”
“Three? It’s only a bit over one hundred kilometers.”
“Yes, but you’re not in the states, it’s slow and can be dangerous. But I promised Tex I’d make sure you got there safely.”
