“I don’t think you’ll be safe here for long,” Farid said. He lowered his voice. “The Taliban have friends here. They will start looking for you.” “I think they already may have,” I murmured. I thought suddenly of the bearded man who’d wandered into the room and just stood there staring at me. Farid leaned in. “As soon as you can walk, I’ll take you to Islamabad. Not entirely safe there either, no place in Pakistan is, but it’s better than here. At least it will buy you some time.”“Farid Jan, this can’t be safe for you either. Maybe you shouldn’t be seen with me. You have a family to take care of.”
Farid made a waving gesture. “My boys are young, but they are very shrewd. They know how to take care of their mothers and sisters.” He smiled. “Besides, I didn’t say I’d do it for free.”“I wouldn’t let you if you offered,” I said. I forgot I couldn’t smile and tried. A tiny streak of blood trickled down my chin. “Can I ask you for one more favor?”“For you a thousand times over,” Farid said.And, just like that, I was crying. I hitched gusts of air, tears gushing down my cheeks, stinging the raw flesh of my lips.“What’s the matter?” Farid said, alarmed.I buried my face in one hand and held up the other. I knew the whole room was watching me. After, I felt tired, hollow. “I’m sorry,” I said. Sohrab was looking at me with a frown creasing his brow.When I could talk again, I told Farid what I needed. “Rahim Khan said they live here in Peshawar.”
“Maybe you should write down their names,” Farid said, eyeing me cautiously, as if wondering what might set me off next. I scribbled their names on a scrap of paper towel. “John and Betty Caldwell.”Farid pocketed the folded piece of paper. “I will look for them as soon as I can,” he said. He turned to Sohrab. “As for you, I’ll pick you up this evening. Don’t tire Amir agha too much.”
But Sohrab had wandered to the window, where a half-dozen pigeons strutted back and forth on the sill, pecking at wood and scraps of old bread.