Zan Zar Zameen: More Answers

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Tabitha and Tommy learn some interesting details from the head doctor.



If there was one thing that they immediately recognized in the field hospital, it was the sense of urgency. Kane had dropped them off, with their duffel bags and backpacks, looking like any of the other young volunteers that had been scattered about. A nurse had taken them into the main tented area, motioning them to follow him as he threaded through the crush moving between the beds. It was obviously overcrowded, people fit in to the absolute maximum capacity.

"Yes, you two. The new blood. Follow me." A voice barked behind them, and a woman in green scrubs walked past. She was tall and rangy, with high cheekbones and taunt features. Her hair had been sunbleached to a light brown, and her skin was deeply tanned. Her movements were brisk and carried the look of authority, as they made their way out of the hospital itself and into another, smaller tent. Here she tossed her clipboard on the desk and turned.

"I'm Doctor Jane Watts. I'm the hospital director at this aide station. And you are the friends of the RCMP Inspector, correct?"

Tabitha suppressed a smile, it wouldn't be appropriate. She held out her hand. "You could say that, yes. Tabitha Smith." She took in the overcrowded hospital in a sweeping glance. "We're here to help, at any rate."

"Well, we always need help. We're not exactly hand to mouth, but for a lot of these people, we're the first proper medical care they've seen in ages. I know that you're here about the murders. I can give you want information I know, but after that, I'm going to put you out on the floor working."

Tabs spared a glance back at Tommy. He didn't seem very forthcoming. "We're good for the work. What's your intel?" Probably nothing Kane didn't know already, but it didn't hurt to double-check.

"Little, if any. Janette and Chris worked in the hospital, but neither of them were medical personnel. Chris was an engineer, worked on local civil projects, and helped out with the aid centre in-between assignments. Janette was, hm, a student still. Master's studies in something. Was supposed to be here as a volunteer for six months." Dr Watts rubbed her eyes tiredly. "She used to spend a lot of time in the camp. Many of the tribal groups follow much less strict paths of sharia law; she was able to talk to them."

"Did they both speak the lingo?" If there was a chance of talking to anyone in the tribes, she might be a bit more useful than a doorstop. "Did they know each other or was it just a 'wrong place, wrong time' thing?" Not that she believed in coincidence.

"Janette spoke Pashto close to fluently, I believe. I don't think Chris had much more than a basic knowledge of it." Jane looked at her desk for a second, and pulled out a file. "The two of them were friends, but I frankly don't know if it went any further than that. It's a small camp. There isn't much company here other than each other, so the volunteers tend to be a close knit group. I don't have to tell you that we're all still in shock about their deaths."

Tabitha nodded absently as she flipped through the file. Sounded like the girl was an important part of what happened. She'd have to get the info to Kane, maybe one of the girls could ferret something out. "Has Mountie boy seen this file?" She could spot anything useful, but Kane had a better idea of what he was looking for.

"Mountie Boy? You mean Inspector Kane?" Watts shook her head. "I passed along all the information that I had to the government, but I have no idea what they may or not may have given to him. Janette was asking a lot of questions before she disappeared. There have been... rumours of other disappearances in the camp. You don't think that could have been involved?"

The silence she was met with answered everything.

Paige and Monet find confirmation of the slavers in the camp.



The first problem, Monet had decided, was that Kane hadn't actually,
properly told them what this was going to be like.There was a constant
din of noise and the smells of cooking, chickens and a hint of
sewerage in the air. What was worst, though, was the psychic noise
created by far too many stressed people in too small a space. The
second problem was that she really didn't look like a local.
Aboriginal and Arabic just wasn't quite Afghani. The third was that,
after three or four days, she hated Paige with a fiery burning
passion. She'd come up with 204 different ways to kill the pair of
them. Beating them to unconsciousness with a piece of kabana and then
leaving them to drown inside a cement mixer was still her favourite.
The fourth and final problem was that no-one wanted to talk to them.

She gave a mental sigh and forced her mind back to business, looking
at the woman sitting across from her. "So do you know anything? My
sister and I are very worried about it all." There were at least three
men in earshot and she dropped her shields enough to listen in to
them, as well.

"You shouldn't worry so much." Bana said, a young woman that they had
befriended on arrival to the camp. The burkas concealed enough of
their features that skincolour was really the only indicator, although
it had taken Sooraya an hour to teach them to wear and move in the
robes properly. "This is a camp. People come and go all the time."

The tone of her voice was patently false; an obvious attempt to mask
uncertainity.

Monet snorted. "And they leave their things behind when they leave, do
they? Their food, their goats, their great uncle who is blind and
can't walk?" One of the men nearby showed some interest. She kept
talking, hoping he'd think in the right direction. "I think we should
be worried, since people are vanishing, not going home." She shivered.
"My sister and I are alone here. We should be very worried." Come on,
little fishie, take the goddam bait, already and start thinking about
vanishing people. Look, we've got vulnerable written all over us and
no-one here even knows who we are. Come on...

"There is a council in the camp. They will protect us." Bana said,
picking up the basket of washing and motioning for Monet and Paige to
follow. Once they were in the cover of the tents, the woman hissed at
them, her expression hidden by the burqa. "Are you mad? Do you wish to
be beaten? I do not know what your husband did to indulge you, but I
have no interest in occuring a sharia ruling for impropriaty."

Monet gave a slight shrug. The whole undercover thing was getting
annoying. They were more than welcome to try but it wasn't like they'd
be able to do any damage.

She set down the basket and sat on it with a sigh. "We all know of the
disappearances. They come like the night, and then gone. Some of the
families, the Qadir, the Masood, the Sadorar, they have tried to
arrange men to walk the edges of the camp, patrol, but it does no
good."

The woman was thinking 'slavers' as she spoke. Monet shivered,
feeling the other woman's fear and resignation. "Oh."