Rubbing her belly, she logged off and closed the laptop, hoping Dalrymple would respond soon. The last thing she needed in the final days of her pregnancy was this kind of stress.
Come on, Dal. Tell me Im imagining things.
She settled in the rocking chair shed picked up at a thrift store. Most of her furniture was secondhand. Her clothes as well.
Shed never been wealthy, and she could remember plenty of lean times in her life, both as a child and later as an adult. But life as a pregnant Kaziri refugee was proving to be a whole other level of needy. And there was no hope of ever going back to the life shed once lived.
From down the hall, faint strains of an old Kaziri folk song added a discordant counterpoint to the Bing Crosby tune playing on the radio in the apartment next door. Refugees had taken over several of the empty apartments in the building, but there were a few native Cincinnatians whod been living in Over-the-Rhine for decades, through bad times and good. Some of them eyed the newcomers with suspicion and even fear, at times signaling their defiance by shows of blatant patriotism in case the refugees forgot where they were living now.
Yasmin felt strangely caught in the middle, someone who knew all the words to both songs clamoring for attention. Her mother had sung Nazanin to her as a lullaby for as long as she could remember. And Bings White Christmas had always been one of her fathers favorite songs.
It would have been easier if Dal had placed her in the Raleigh, North Carolina, area, where another group of Kaziri immigrants had started to form their own small cultural enclave. Those Kaziris came from the small Christian community, with its more westernized habits and customs. She could have fit in there quite easily, given her mothers background.
But she wasnt going to find what Dalrymple was seeking in North Carolina. So there would be no Christmas lights this year. No holly wreath on her door or stockings on the mantel. Not if she wanted to fit in with the rest of the Kaziri community here in Cincy.
Still, as she rocked slowly in the chair, making herself wait a little longer before she checked for Dals return email, she found herself humming along with Bing, feeling a little melancholy.
Christmas was only a couple of weeks away. And this year, shed be spending it alone.
* * *
IS IT HER? Maddox Hellers drawl rumbled through the phone receiver, bracingly familiar.
Connor stepped away from the window. Ill admit, it looks like her.
But youre not certain. Hellers voice was tinged with sympathy. A former marine, like Connor, hed gotten in touch after the plane crash and Risas death, first to offer his condolences, and later, the new job that had eventually brought Connor to Cincinnati.
No, Im not certain. Connor had come to terms with the fact that he wanted to believe the woman hed seen was Risa. But self-deception during a mission was a great way to end up dead or captured. The woman is definitely pregnant.
How far along?
How the hell would I know? He heard a tinge of bitterness in his voice and quelled it. Stick to the facts. Big. Probably last trimester.
If its Risa, Heller said quietly, then...
Then the baby could be his. I know.
Quinn has feelers out to some of his old contacts at the agency, but if shes part of an ongoing operation, theyre not going to tell him anything.
Do you think... Connor swallowed and started again. Do you think she could have planned it all along?
What? Faking her death?
Yeah.
I dont know. CIA folks can be a little squirrelly, but...
But she loved me, he thought. She loved me, and we didnt have secrets.
Self-deception, he reminded himself. Always dangerous.
I think she must live in this area. The Kaziri refugee community seems to be centered here near the new mosque on Dublin Street, he told Heller. The mosque had once been a Methodist church, according to some of the locals hed talked to earlier that morning. With the exodus of locals and the advent of the refugees, a lot was changing in the neighborhood. Longtime diners had become halal markets and restaurants. A boutique down the street from the mosque now sold hijab coverings for women.
Thats what our intel says, Heller agreed.
By intel, he suspected Heller meant an undercover asset. Maybe more than one. Connor was new to Campbell Cove Security and the academy the company ran. He had a feeling there was a lot about the company he had yet to discover. And other things, he suspected, he might never discover unless there was a pressing need to know.
Heller broke the silence that had fallen between them. Whats your gut on this?
How the hell was Connor supposed to answer that question? Hed spent the past three days since spotting the pregnant woman in the surveillance photos trying not to feel anything at all, in his gut or anywhere else. If he let himself feel, then hed lose any chance of dealing with the situation with reason and logic.
I dont know, he answered. I cant let my gut lead here.
He wanted to believe way too much to trust his gut about anything where Risa was concerned.
What are you going to do next? Heller asked.
Connor checked his watch. Nearly two thirty. The operative says she works the dinner shift at The Jewel of Tablis, right?
Not every night, but yeah.
So I guess Ill wait a couple of hours and then go have myself a nice halal dinner.
* * *
BY THE TIME Yasmin had to leave the apartment to get to her job at the restaurant, she still hadnt heard from Dalrymple. Going on twelve hours since their last contact. Dal had always been the kind of man who lived on his own timetable, but hed never taken this long to get back to her.
Unless something had gone wrong.
As she tied her apron above the swell of the baby, she glanced around the restaurant, trying to remember the feeling shed had before while walking home from the doctors office. A tingle on the back of her neck that said, Someone is watching.
She supposed it was possible a lot of people were watching her. Pregnant women living alone werent the norm in a culture like Kaziristans. She had lived there with her mother for three years while her father was doing a tour of duty overseas. At least, thats what her mother had told her, though she sometimes wondered if the Kaziristan years had come during a rough patch in her parents marriage.
Theyd stayed with her mothers brother and his family, and the experience had been eye-opening, not always in a good way. But during those years, shed learned a lot about being a Kaziri woman. While a large swath of Kaziristan was cosmopolitan and culturally advanced, some of the rural areas were still deeply tribal, including the part where her mothers brother lived. Those areas were patriarchal in a way people in the West couldnt really comprehend.
But even in those parts of Kaziristan, women had ways of getting things done beneath the veil. It was a lesson shed never forgotten, and she was banking on that lesson to get her through the next few months of her life.
Yasmin? The sharp voice of the restaurant manager, Farid Rahimi, jerked her back to attention. She turned to look at him, trying not to let her dislike show.
He was a short man, and lean, but she knew from observation that he was strong and fast. He was also mean, keeping his employees in line with threats and derision. He was a US citizen, which put him in a far more stable position than most of the people in the community, including all of his employees. Most were here on temporary visas or provisional refugee status, and he made sure they understood just how perilous their lives in the States really were.
He was a short man, and lean, but she knew from observation that he was strong and fast. He was also mean, keeping his employees in line with threats and derision. He was a US citizen, which put him in a far more stable position than most of the people in the community, including all of his employees. Most were here on temporary visas or provisional refugee status, and he made sure they understood just how perilous their lives in the States really were.
There are a couple of special guests coming tonight. They want the prettiest of the serving girls to wait on them exclusively. He flashed her a bright smile before adding, So Darya will be serving them. Youll have to pick up her tables.
Yes, sir, she answered in Kaziri, trying to ignore the flash of cruelty in his smile. One of the hardest things about pretending to be a Kaziri refugee was behaving as if she was resigned to being at the mercy of others.
In another life, she would have cut him in half with her words. And hed be lucky if shed stopped there.
Speak English, Farid added in a harsh tone. He waved one sinewy hand at her head. And cover yourself.
She reached up and straightened her roosari, tugging it up to cover her hair. Its all part of the assignment, she reminded herself as she picked up her order pad and went to work, her teeth grinding with frustration.
The conversations she overheard as she worked were unremarkable. Despite its location in the heart of the Kaziri refugee community, The Jewel of Tablis was beginning to draw patrons from all over Cincinnati. In fact, most of the refugees Yasmin knew were too impoverished to eat out, though most of them shopped in the small halal food market attached to the restaurant. So far tonight, all of her diners were English-speaking Americans. Not one of them said anything that might have piqued Dalrymples interest.
She was beginning to wonder why hed wanted her to move here to Cincinnati rather than simply relocating her somewhere out West, where she could live in solitude and see trouble coming for miles before it arrived.
Darya! Farids voice rose over the ambient noise of conversing diners, drawing Yasmins gaze toward the door where he stood. There were two dark-featured men, each wearing an expensive payraan tumbaan, the traditional long shirt and pants typical in Afghanistan, Pakistan and, these days, the Kaziri moneyed class. The intricately embroidered silk vests the two men wore over their shirts were definitely products of Kaziristan, adorned as they were with the brilliant-hued fire hawk of Kaziri folklore.
She didnt recognize either man, though the taller man on the right looked oddly familiar, even though she was certain theyd never met. Maybe shed run across one of his relatives during her time on assignment in Tablis, the Kaziri capital city.
Shed kept a low profile while she was there, playing a similar role blending in with the native Kaziris in order to keep an ear close to the ground during a volatile time in the countrys downward spiral toward another civil war. Strangeand alarmingthat shed been afforded more autonomy and respect as a woman in Kaziristan than she was as a woman in the insular Kaziri community in Cincinnati.
On the upside, being pregnant and makeup-free was working in her favor here. People saw the round belly first and never bothered letting their gazes rise to her face, especially with more nubile, exotic-looking beauties like Darya and her bevy of young, unmarried friends to draw the attention of Kaziri men. And the Americans as well, she noted with secret amusement, as the middle-aged male patrons she was currently serving kept slanting intrigued glances at Darya as she walked with sinuous femininity to the VIP table to take their orders.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed another customer enter the restaurant and take a seat at a table near the window. She delivered her most recent order to the kitchen and returned to the dining hall, grabbing a menu and pouring a glass of water before heading to the newcomers table.
A burst of laughter from the VIP table drew her attention in that direction. One of the men was flirting outrageously with Darya, who was eating up the attention with the confidence of a woman who knew her appeal.
Swallowing a sigh, Yasmin turned her attention back to her new customer. He lifted his head, pinning her with his blue-eyed gaze.
Her stomach gave a lurch.
The glass slipped from her hand, but the man whipped his hand out and caught it on the way down. Only a few drops of water splashed across the dark hair on the back of his hand.
He set the glass on the table, still looking at her.
Hello, Risa, Connor McGinnis said.
Chapter Two
Connor focused his gaze on Risas pale face, trying to read the snippets of emotion that flashed like lightning across her expression. Within a couple of seconds, her pretty features became a mask that hid everything from him.
Yasmin, she said quietly as she mopped up the spilled drops of water from the table using a rag she pulled from her apron pocket. Her voice, almost as familiar as his own, came out in a heavy, convincing Kaziri accent. My name is Yasmin and I will be your server tonight. Would you like to try the mint tea?
So it wasnt amnesia. There had been a part of him that almost prayed it had been memory loss from the plane crash that had kept her away for so long, but those hopes had been dashed the second her eyes met his. Theyd widened, the pupils dilating with shock, before shed lowered her gaze and set about hiding everything shed briefly revealed.
He knew what that Kaziri accent hida South Georgia drawl as warm and slow as a night in Savannah, where Risa had been born and her parents still lived.
Theyd mourned her, too, he thought.
How could she have chosen to disappear the way she had, letting everyone who knew and loved her think she was dead?
He struggled to keep the anger burning in his gut in check, careful not to let it show in his expression. He, too, was good at wearing masks.
When does your shift end? he asked quietly.
She pretended not to hear the question. The special tonight is lamb kebabs with rice.
We have to talk, Yasmin. He put extra emphasis on her alias.
No. Her hazel eyes lifted to meet his gaze before she added, Sir.
You dont think I have a right to ask a few questions?
For a second, her mask faltered, fierce emotion burning in her eyes. But she looked away quickly. Take your time to study the menu. I will return in a few minutes. Would you like something to drink while you are waiting?
Mint tea, he said finally.
She gave a nod and walked away. Her gait was subtly different, her back arched from the weight of her pregnant belly. He realized with some surprise that hed never before imagined what shed look like pregnant.
How could that be? Why had they never thought about children, about a family?
A few tables away, a slender young woman in a simple, shape-hugging dress and a matching peacock-blue roosari was taking orders from two middle-aged men. The one nearest was dressed in an elaborately embroidered payraan tumbaan. Connor couldnt get a good look at his face. His companion, however, sat facing Connor, though his gaze was lifted upward to smile at the pretty server. Connor didnt recognize him.
But there was something about the shape of the other mans head, the slight wave of his silver-flecked black hair, that tugged at Connors memory.