xp_logs | Buzkashi: Chasing Whispers

Nathan and Angelo meet with Nathan's local contact. They don't have a lot to go on, but since when has that ever stopped them before?

He did not like Asadabad. It had never been a particularly pleasant city, and these days seemed even less settled than usual. An hour or so out on the streets had the back of his neck prickling, and even though Nathan knew that his current state was a major contributing factor to the anxiety, knowing that wasn't helping. What was, was, and he was as close to helpless as he'd been in a long time.

"Drink your tea," he muttered to Angelo, in English. The little cafe was startlingly dark, for the middle of the day, and entirely too quiet. Not the ideal meeting spot on a lot of levels.

"Gettin' there," Angelo muttered back. "Don't rush me more than needs to be."

"Where is he..." Nathan stared fixedly at the door, as if he could will Ashraf to appear. His old friend was not customarily late. "I hate not being able to feel people coming," he muttered savagely.

"Yeah, well, I've never been able to. There's ways around it, you know that already."

"Like hell there is. The 'other ways' leave you open to getting shot in the back," Nathan growled and sipped at his own tea. If Angelo started with him on that subject, they were going to have an argument. Maybe it would wait until they were back at the hotel, but they would.

"An' how many people are in lines of work like this without bein' telepaths?" Angelo pointed out levelly. "Like this or even more dangerous."

"Stop being logical at me. It's annoying." Nathan straightened in his chair as a familiar figure stepped in, paused for a moment, then headed over to their table as he spotted them. "Ashraf," he said, then went on in Dari. "~You're late. And what the hell are you doing living out here these days?~"

"Business takes me everywhere, Nathan," the man responded in good, if accented English. He was tall and lean, his face scarred and his dark eyes cool and assessing. They lingered on Nathan's sling for a moment, then shifted to Angelo. "You should know that."

Angelo sat up straighter and returned the gaze just as assessingly, watchful. "Angelo Espinosa," he said after a moment, with a nod.

"Ashraf," was the laconic reply. He looked back at Nathan, somewhat amused. "Did you have another encounter with a truck?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. And stop making fun of me for the truck." Nathan's dour expression finally cracked in a slight smile. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Unlikely." Ashraf tilted his head, regarding the two of them. "I thought perhaps this might be a good place to meet. Far from where those we are discussing would see us. They do not come this far into the city."

Angelo glanced sideways at Nathan, but then nodded again. "Seems as good a place as any. Not many people here at all, let alone the ones we're here to talk about."

"I do not have as much information as I hoped to have by the time you arrived," Ashraf said, looking aggravated by that. "I am a stranger here, and there is a limit to how much digging I can do. What I know... it is not enough. They are Pashtun, certainly, these traders. They seem to operate mostly in the east. Most of their... products, are children."

"Easier to control," Nathan muttered, sipping at his tea.

"Does anyone do anythin' about them?" Angelo asked grimly. "You tellin' us what's going on aside, of course."

"Mutant children are not... appreciated in Afghanistan, as a rule," Ashraf said, and there was a slight edge of bitterness to his voice that suggested pressing him on the subject would not be a good idea. Nathan gazed across the table at him, a bleak, knowing look in his gray eyes. He wasn't about to share Ashraf's family history with anyone. Not even Angelo. "There is no... desire to protect them. Especially those who cause problems within their family or clan."

"Then I guess we'd better get as many of them out as we can manage," came the equally bleak answer from Angelo. "If we can."

Well, that was jumping the gun a little. He didn't have the heart to tell Angelo how difficult that was liable to be. "The UN might help. If we can get a little bit more specific information," Nathan said more guardedly. They couldn't start evacuating all the children who needed evacuating. Not from a situation like this. Not without an army, at least. "Do you know where we can find any of these trading groups?"

"They often visit north of the city," Ashraf said promptly. "The village markets. City folk do not sell their children, of course." Again, that twist of his mouth, and Nathan felt another surge of sympathy. Ashraf's daughter would be sixteen now. Wherever she was. The last time he'd heard, Ashraf's father-in-law was continuing to deny any involvement in her disappearance, but no one who knew anything about the situation was fooled. For a highly traditional Pashtun family, a daughter with wings was... unacceptable.

Angelo raised an eyebrow at Ashraf. "Not where anyone can see them, anyway. Nothin' stoppin' the city folk goin' out to the village markets, is there?"

Nathan shook his head slightly. "Rural-urban divide," he said more quietly to Angelo. "It makes sense." He looked back at Ashraf. "Any villages in particular?"

Ashraf named three, promptly. "They have been seen more than once at those places. They have visited others, but not more than once."

"Then those are our best chances." Nathan's eyes shifted to the door for a moment, going distant. "Not tomorrow. Day after... that's when the markets will be." It was easy to slide back into the rhythm of life in this part of the world.

"Then that's when we'll be there. To... do whatever it is we're actually goin' to do about this."

Ashraf raised an eyebrow, and then looked at Nathan. "You are still getting used to your new line of work," he guessed.

"Does it show?"