Stormy Weather

by matahari2

Summary / Disclaimers, etc.: See Chapter 1

Chapter Seven – A Break in the Clouds

"Would you like another cup of tea, dear?" Dotty asked, her soulful eyes shining with compassion as she carried their cups and saucers over to the kitchen counter.

Amanda knew that look. She knew her mother felt just as helpless as she did. . .that she wished she could offer far more than a cup of tea. "Oh, no, thank you, Mother," Amanda said with the semblance of a smile, pushing away from the table and reaching for a tissue from the box on the island. After covering a small sneeze with the tissue and lightly dabbing at her nose, she sought out Dotty's eyes, saying, "Mother, I'm really glad you're here. . .it's good for us to be together. . ." she hesitated, concentrating on rubbing her finger along the edge of the countertop, then looked up to meet her mother's gaze.

"at a time like this," they finished in unison. Dotty stepped closer and slipped her arm around Amanda, patting her back lightly as she said, "Of course it is, dear. Now, where else would I be?" As she gave her daughter a gentle hug, their cheeks touched, and Dotty exclaimed, "Oh my goodness, Amanda! You're burning up!"

"Oh, Mother, it's nothing, really," Amanda said, waving it off. "just a little cold that's been coming on for the last few days. I'll be fine," she said, pulling herself out of Dotty's protective embrace and opening the cabinet to look for the bottle of pain reliever. 'Physically, anyway,' she thought.

"All right, all right," Dotty said, waving her hands in surrender, "but why don't you at least go upstairs and lie down for awhile?"

"Moth-er!" Amanda cried, drawing out the name in frustration. At her mother's hurt look, Amanda sighed and said, "Oh. . .all right." At the foot of the stairs, she turned back to say, "You know, it's awfully quiet up there. Is Jenny sleeping?"

"I don't believe so," Dotty replied. "The last time I checked, she was looking at some kind of maps on the computer. I suppose it's for school."

'For school? Maybe, but I'm not so sure about that,' Amanda thought, but she simply nodded to her mother and said, "Right. Well, I guess I'll go lie down. . .but please, don't let me sleep too long. I wouldn't want to miss Lee's call."

**********

Paktia province, Afghanistan

'Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. . .' Bob Seehra muttered to himself as two of his nameless adversaries pummeled his ribcage. He hadn't given them anything, and he didn't intend to, not even after they'd knocked out three of his teeth. When his stint as a punching bag had ended, he looked up to see the guy he thought of as the chief thug, 'Mustafa', someone had called him, looking down on him with a self-important air.

"Mister Seehra," he warned, "do not play games with us. . .we saw you conversing with the American soldiers. . .the swine who destroyed our revered leader and three hundred forty of our brothers!"

"So?" Bob countered with a sneer.

Mustafa back-handed him roughly, and kept up the pressure. "What exactly did you tell them? Who among our number gave you this information?"

In the face of Seehra's determined silence, Mustafa turned away for a moment, signaling two of the men to come and take him back to the cell. As they reached the office door, he issued a final warning: "Your silence has bought you nothing. When we find the one who told you, that person will die. . .as will you!" Switching to the Dari language, the Afghan version of Persian, he instructed the two guards to bring the photographer, James King.

While Bob was out of the small room, Jamie had searched the place, and was more than a little surprised to find that his camera case had been left there under the table, up against the wall. He caught hold of the handle with the toe of his shoe and flipped it over so he could drag it forward. Kneeling down in front of the case, he used both of his still-bound hands to trip each of the latches. When he lifted the lid, he saw that both of his cameras had been removed, as he'd expected. He took his time inspecting the foam-packed case, running his fingers over the surfaces, until he found them, three metal-rimmed circles of glass--camera filters. "I know what we can do!" he whispered to himself, just as he heard shuffling noises approaching the entrance to the cell. Jamie snapped the case shut and slid it back as close as he could into its former position, then stood, leaning his back against the wall, as the guards pushed a bloody, bruised Bob Seehra through the doorway.

Jamie had no chance to exchange a word with his fellow prisoner, as the two guards grabbed him immediately, shoving him out into the hallway. He didn't know what would happen to him now, but he'd seen Bob, and that thought didn't offer much hope.

**********

"Jenny! Are you still at that computer?" Amanda asked, walking across her room and standing behind her chair. Placing a hand on her daughter's shoulder and peering at the monitor, she wondered aloud, "What on earth is that?"

"Well, see Mom, this picture right here is a topographical map of the Paktia province. It shows all the mountains and forested areas. See, these right here are the Zhawal mountains." Touching the screen with her index finger, she went on, "And look. . .down here below the map, there's a link to some photographs from the region."

"Mm-hm, yeah I see," Amanda said, as Jenny clicked the mouse to reveal a picture of an abandoned fort with a thick stand of evergreen trees behind it. Jenny clicked the "next" arrow, and they saw an image of rocky terrain, and a dry river bed between two mountains.

"You think Jamie could be there somewhere?" Jenny asked, still looking at the screen and clicking to view more images. "I sure wish I could help find him!"

"I know, Sweetheart. . .we all do," Amanda murmured, staring into the computer screen as if it were a crystal ball. Leaning down and stroking Jenny's shoulders, she said, "Come on, now, let's get you downstairs and have a little something to eat." Rising and turning toward the door, she continued, "By the way, you bookmarked that site, right? Your Dad'll want to see it when he gets home."

"Sure did, Mom. . .you know what else?" Jenny asked, spinning in the chair and hurrying over to the doorway. "I found one about the languages they speak over there—there's at least four of 'em, and one about their traditional clothing, and. . ." Jenny rambled on as Amanda followed her down the stairs, a trace of a smile on her lips. Even now, she could spare an instant to be proud of her intelligent, caring daughter.

When they came through the family room, Amanda spotted her mother seated in the rocking chair with her chin resting on her chest, head tipped to the side, and an open book on her lap, 'Agatha Christie, no doubt,' Amanda surmised. She held a finger to her lips and pointed back over her shoulder toward Dotty, letting Jenny know she shouldn't wake Grandma, as they went on into the kitchen. Amanda had just opened the refrigerator and taken out a loaf of wheat bread, some cold cuts and a jar of mayonnaise when the phone started ringing. 'So much for being quiet', she thought.

"Hello," she said, with a hopeful lilt in her voice. She'd just known Lee would be calling soon.

"Hi, Mom. . .it's me," Phillip said, quietly.

"Phillip! Sweetheart!" Amanda greeted, as cheerfully as she could manage, disguising her disappointment.

"Mom, is it okay if. . .if I come down to stay with you guys for a few days?" he asked, the sadness in his tone unmistakable, at least to his mother.

"Well of course you can, Phillip! You know that," she answered. "When will you be here?"

"I can probably be there by 5:00," he replied, "assuming the traffic's not too bad."

"But Phillip, I thought your shift didn't end until 6:00. . ." Amanda started to say.

"Mom. . ." he interrupted, "they told me to go home. See, they all know Jamie's my brother, and I guess I haven't been much use to the hospital the last couple of days. You know. . .I can't seem to concentrate on my work. . .just keep gravitating to the TV monitors, hoping to hear a little better news."

"Yeah. . .I understand," she said with a sigh. She perked up slightly, saying, "Well, Sweetheart, you just come right on down here. . .but you be careful, okay?"

"Oh, I will, Mom. All right, see you later," he said. "Love you!"

**********

Jamie had lucked out, or so he thought. There would be no beating for him, no lengthy interrogation. Instead, the man who seemed to be in charge, who spoke some English, albeit with a strange accent, had told Jamie to stand up against the wall and cup his hands in front of him. Then one of the guards had positioned a newspaper in his hands, while the other took his picture. Within ten minutes he'd been returned to the cell.

"Well! That was a surprise," Jamie said, after the door clanged shut. "No rough stuff, and no interrogation to speak of. . .all they did was take my picture."

"And you took that ath good newth?" Bob asked, lisping through the newly formed gaps between his teeth.

"Well. . .yeah," Jamie replied, sounding a little defensive, even to his own ears. "I mean, after what I saw they'd done to you, I thought. . ."

"Yeah. . .well you thought wrong, Jameth," Bob stated.

"It's Jamie. And. . .what do you mean?" he asked, the tension in his voice rising.

"Think about it," Bob said, standing to his feet and attempting to gesture with his hands as he walked across the room in five long strides. "Here you come, this nice-looking young man, working in the American press, no less. Look, Jamie, let's face it. They're using you to make some political hay 'while the sun shines'. Believe me, when it no longer serves their purpose, neither will you."

"Oh my God! We've gotta get outta here!" Jamie shouted. "Listen, while you were gone, I found something. I've got an idea. . ." he said, beginning to relate the beginnings of a plan.

TO BE CONTINUED