Caught In The Crossfire: A Bernadette Callahan Mystery by Lyle Nicholson

Author:Lyle Nicholson [Nicholson, Lyle]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-07-15T16:00:00+00:00

The voices of Reza and Almas rose up softly into the room; it became a beautiful melody as they repeated it together.

When the prayers were completed, Reza and Almas got up slowly and smiled at Bernadette and Jason. “We must go now,” Reza said.

“Do we still have time?” Bernadette asked. She looked at her watch. The time was 0545.

Jason smiled. “Let’s hope Allah will be merciful. And we need to haul ass.”

They hurried out of the room, throwing their bags in the back of the car. Jason pulled the canvas cover off the car and with everyone inside, he spun the car in reverse.

The alleyway was vacant. A lone vendor with fresh bread watched the beaten-up car sped down the street..

The narrow alley opened up onto a large road. Jason stopped, looking left and right.

“What are you looking for?” Bernadette asked from the back seat.

“I’m trying to see if the army or police have put up any checkpoints yet,” Jason said.

“Do you think they’re looking for me?” Bernadette asked.

“Could be or just their normal squeeze point to rake off money from innocent people,” Jason said. “There’s a saying in Afghanistan, that the ordinary person cannot do anything. But a government person, which includes the military and police can do what he wants—killing, stealing…anything.”

Reza turned his head. “We often say the Afghan government is a criminal syndicate.”

“Well put.” Jason nodded in agreement.

Bernadette leaned forward. “Well, that’s great. If the Afghan government is totally corrupt and the Taliban is corrupt in a different way, how does a regular person exist here?”

Reza flashed a smile. “This here, in Afghanistan, is Allah’s greatest test. You will see, that Allah will prevail.”

Jason shook his head, put the car in gear, and turned right. They blew past a police checkpoint that had not set up yet. The policemen were sitting beside their car having their morning tea. They looked up with mild interest at the passing car. They would stop the next one.

“You see?” Reza said. “Allah has taken care of us.”

They turned another corner and straight into the barrel of an Afghan Army tank.

Bernadette nodded her head to the front. “You best have some divine help with this one, Reza. I don’t see them letting us slip by.”

“That’s a T-sixty-two Russian tank,” Jason said.

“Great, nice to know what’s about to make this little car disappear into bits,” Bernadette replied

The tank sat there, motionless and ominous, its very presence threatening the occupants of the little Toyota Camry. It was painted in a sand and brown camouflage. Its long gun barrel hung down and slightly to the left as if it needed a target to aim at. Two hatches were open on the top turret, both hatch lids opened towards them, but they couldn’t see if there was anyone behind them.

One large machine gun pointed skyward beside one of the hatches, as if you needed more weaponry than the big gun on this forty-plus ton of steel mounted on two wide tracks.

A hatch opened in the front of the tank below the turret.

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