It was some time before he woke up, and when he did, it was with start. He tried to sit up immediately. Eyes open, looking for the little girl who'd been in his arms when he'd passed out. He clocked that it was dark outside.
A strong hand pushed him back into the bed.
Wait. He was on a bed.
"She's fine, you crazy son of a bitch. You're less fine. We're in hospital at Camp Victory. Me, you, the girl and her Dad. We were medevacked here right after it happened with your head injury."
Quinn squinted. Eyes trying to focus. Rob swam into view, still a bit blurry.
"Faras' ok?"
"She's fine you absolute arsehole. I thought you were both dead."
"Couldn't let her die," Peter responded tersely. His face was green, and he looked a bit ill.
"You ok?"
"Ima going to be sick."
Rob shoved a cardboard bucket into his hand and ran to get the nurse.
Peter heaved.
The doctor came in. A torch was in Peters' face.
"Mr Quinn, I'm Dr James. I've been treating you. I need to assess your head injury, is that ok?"
He shut his eyes, screwing them tight, trying to look away.
"Mr Quinn, I know it hurts, but you need to look at the torch. Can you tell me where you are?"
"Baghdad, Camp Victory. The kids' bomb went off. It was October when the bomb went off, I don't know the date. How long was I out?"
The doctor was periodically blocking and releasing his hand from the light, checking pupil response.
"Four days you were out Bro. You gotta stop doing this to me." Rob said softly.
"Is Fara ok? Is her dad ok?"
"She's fine. She and her Dad are here, we didn't think the North was safe for them anymore."
"You have a mild concussion Peter, you'll need to stay until you stop vomiting." The doctor said, then wrote the notes and left.
Rob carried on.
"She was pretty banged up by whoever took her. We think she was sexually assaulted as well, but we don't know, she came round pretty quickly after the bomb went off and refused to let anyone touch her or to go to sleep. Sherazi is devastated."
Peter's hands gripped the sheets tightly. Angrily. He went to move to get up.
"No. No way bro. You're staying here. She's been sedated, Sherazi is with her. You can speak to her when you are well and she wakes up. You're here for 24 hours at least. Then we'll see if we can get any info from her about who took her and why, pass it to Iraqi police and get on with our fucking job."
"She's a little girl."
"No revenge missions. Mission objective is short-stop. We were close up North, I could tell. Let Iraqi police handle the girl."
"Not just any girl. She's our friend's daughter. She's only in this because of Sherazi."
"It was his choice to get involved."
"We should have protected his family." Peter responded angrily, eyes blazing.
"We had no way of knowing his kid was in danger."
"Is that how you sleep at night?" Peter asked softly.
Rob looked away. It was times like this that he couldn't bear working with the young man Dar had placed him with. Rob was supposed to be his mentor, he was supposed to be guiding this man through the dark world of CIA Black Ops. Yet, Peter always questioned everything. Made him think of moral dilemmas that he'd never even considered before. For Rob it had always been about the mission.
But Pete, he was ever the analyst, as well as the assassin. Rob wondered where Peter had been conjured from sometimes. How Dar had found the 16 year old kid who had stumbled into the groups' Washington base behind him, all those years ago. Cold, wet, scrawny and miserable. What had Dar seen in him.
Peter had been the sharpest kid he'd ever met, he later found out, he hadn't been in school for 6 years. Many times, Rob marvelled at the ingenuity and strength of this young man. Often, it occured to him how close he had been to quitting the group that week, the week he had found out he was to train a kid to become a murderer. Until that 16 year old boy had turned around and told him to quit being a pussy, and that he didn't care if he died, or got raped or whatever, so long as it stops other little kids being hurt in the long run.
From then on, wherever they had been in the world, there were a few people who Peter had shown no mercy for, and those who used sexual violence as a weapon of war were amongst those people. Just five years into his special-ops military career, Peters' personal kill list was growing exponentially, and Peter's habit of playing executioner to these criminals was a big reason for that. It was often off-script, but between Rob and Peter they were good enough at their work to cover up these non-mission critical excursions. But Rob could never bring himself to say anything. No human created justice would balance out the harm these Predators had caused to society. Somehow, to truly function, maybe society needed an angel of vengeance. If it did, it could come in no better form than Peter Quinn, he mused.
He looked back at him.
"Speak to her in the morning. Its 3am. Get some sleep. Then we're back on the mission."
Rob got up and left, leaving Peter Quinn staring at the ceiling, his mind boring a hole through it until he fell asleep.
The Adahn Rang out.
Peter awoke with a start, immediately reaching for his handgun which could not be found, panicking, and then relaxed. He was back in Baghdad, in hospital but a safe location. Just a normal day in the Desert.
It was already oppressive, the heat.
The hustle and bustle of the military hospital could already be heard. Nurses and orderlies came in offering him breakfast. That brought a genuine smile to his face. Genuine coffee and real, honest food which wasn't canned tuna.
The doctor came around at 9am. Pleased that Peter hadn't vomited, and his aversion to light appeared to have reduced, he was discharged on the proviso he stayed on base for 48 hours encase they missed something. Hydrate, plenty of fluids and two good night's sleep. He could deal with that. He really didn't want to be dealing with a concussion out in the field.
He was packing up his rucksack, brushing his teeth when Rob came in.
"Wow you're up out of bed."
"Gotta be here for two days, but Doc said I can leave his prison. Can I go see the girl now?"
Rob held the door open.
"You didn't tell me how you twigged it was Sherazi's daughter Quinn?" Rob asked.
"Easy, she was speaking Farsi and talking about a dad on base. Only one Iranian man on base. Only one with a kid daughter who was supposed to be safe at boarding school. Is she awake yet?"
Rob laughed.
"I forget you have hearing like a werewolf Bro."
He walked down the length of the huge hospital building, turning left then right countless times in the corridor, before arriving at a series of smaller rooms. Rob knocked on the door and went in. Peter followed.
Sherazi was lost in his own world looking at his daughter, so much so he didn't even hear the men come in.
"As Salaam Alaikum Saqid" Peter said quietly.
Sherazi sprung up, seeing his daughters saviour and embraced him with tears in his eyes.
"Wa Alaikum Salaam ibn, Wa Alaikum Salaam always my son," he said.
Rob saw a smile ghost Peters face at being called son by this man he so clearly loved and admired.
"She's ok."
"Praise be to Allah for finding us a guardian angel against the work of Iblis, she is ok. I hope she will talk to you. She said she has to speak to the American angel, and that is all."
Peter was embarrassed at this.
"I'd have saved any kid I could have done Sadiq, you know that. Anyone would do."
Sadiq Sherazi sat down, and gestured to Peter & Rob to sit down.
"Actually, my son. I am not too sure that is the way of the world, although it be Allah's way. There are not many who step fiercely into the void, at such great personal risk. You are a good man, my son. Never doubt that."
Peter remained standing, awkward. No matter how many times he saved little children all around the world, Rob knew that killing weighed heavily upon him.
Sherazi reached forward and grabbed the man's hand, looking him in the eye so intently, Peter felt as if he was being split apart.
"In righteousness and in piety you have helped me, Peter. My daughter lives today because of your actions. It is commanded that for those who save a life, it shall be as if they have saved the whole world. You saved my whole world at least Peter. She is my world, there would be no place on this earth for me without her, without my wife. But suicide is forbidden. I am not sure what I would have done. Things will be hard for her, for me. But we have hope. For a better Iran, for a better Iraq and that she might know prosperity in the land of her father's once more. All of this because of you. I am forever in your debt, Peter Quinn. Forever you shall be family to me, and I shall call you my child wherever in the world you are. I shall pray for you always, that you might be safe and find your way home."
Peter looked away, a tear rolling down his face. He had a deep respect for Sadiq Sherazi. His praise however, made him deeply uncomfortable.
"I didn't do it to be in your debt. I did it because she didn't deserve to die like that."
Sadiq got up, and gathered the young man into his embrace. Rob looked away, feeling like he was intruding, but knowing he would be intruding more if he made the noise involved in leaving.
"Has she… has she said anything?" Peter asked.
"No. She won't say anything but to her American Angel, she said."
"When will the sedative wear off?"
"Soon, they said. Wherever they took her, she lost some weight. I got in touch with the school. I'm not sure how we ever knew but it was over-run three weeks ago. No other children missing, praise be to Allah."
The little girl stirred.
"Your friend is here little Fara," her dad said in Farsi, gathering her tiny hand into his giant sized paws. "Your American angel is here."
Small brown eyes blinked as they came into focus.
"Hey sleepy".
Small brown eyes stared at the man face.
"Whats your name?" She asked quietly, in Farsi, trying to wiggle her hands out of her dads and sit up.
"Peter," he said, a small smile ghosting over his head. Finally, finally, he had had the chance to do some good. Something to balance against the blackness of the souls which felt like lead in his chest and his head.
"Like the imam of Jesus?" She asked softly.
Peter smiled back.
"Something like that." He said back.
"You saved my life." She said quietly.
"You saved yourself. You were good, you did exactly what you were told."
"Allah will bless you now." She said back quietly.
Peter didn't really know what to say at that. What sort of god let little children become involved in this war. What sort of god forced a little girl to become a suicide bomber? What sort of god?
"I've heard you've been a bit scared of the doctors here?" Peter asked gently.
"They're American, like him." She responded.
Peter was confused. He looked at Rob who shrugged. Sadiq remained quiet. He'd been trying to get this out of his little girl for days. Find out why she screamed the place down in fear when the American Doctors came in.
"But I'm American too, little one?" He responded.
"But you don't speak like him. You don't dress like him. You don't look like him."
"Like who Fara?"
Tears were rolling down this little girls face, her hands shaking with fear.
"He said he was from Pakistan, and he went to America to learn how to jump from planes so he could make Jihad in Afghanistan and kill the Kufar. I told him he was Iblis, and that Islam is peace and forgiveness…." She was stuttering, crying now. "That's when he hit me, that's when he hurt me. That's when... ". The little girl dissolved into sobs, crawling into her fathers arms.
Peter's blood ran cold. He looked at Rob, whose face was suddenly stone.
He knew who that was. Target number four on the list. Haqqani.
What the hell was he doing in Iraq.