Paragon ✓

XVII. Pashtunwali

In battle, in the forest, at the precipice in the mountains,

On the dark great sea, in the midst of javelins and arrows,

In sleep, in confusion, in the depths of shame,

The good deeds a man has done before defend him

-Bhagavad Gita

James warmed his hands over his mug of coffee as he stared at the photographs.

When James had first seen Katia's message, three days before, his heart had jumped. He knew only she had the password to the site, and he knew he could trust her with the secret. If anyone ever figured out that it was him running it, the consequences would be unspeakable. He remembered joking with Katia about it.

"Is this like one of those gossip blogs?" She'd stared at the site, her brow furrowed.

"Except with our own local 'celebrities.'" He'd laughed aloud at her confused face. "I think having a gossip blog might actually be a gayer endeavour than liking men."

She'd laughed with him.

He missed her laugh. He missed laughing about it, instead of living in fear of being discovered. Nothing was frightening when you laughed.

James couldn't find anything funny in these photographs.

He was in Seattle, like she'd suggested. After a month of silence, he would have gone to Hong Kong if she'd suggested it. He'd taken every instruction seriously.

He'd even popped into Dr. Yazykova's medical office, two days before, just to see which magazines Katia might consider legitimate. He doubted MacLean's would have much interest, nor did he think the British Medical Journal was the right genre. He'd settled on the New York Times.

"James," Dr. Yazykova had called in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

James had turned to see that Dr. Yazykova was a shadow of his former self. A well-liked, normally boisterous physician, he'd become withdrawn and short with his patients since his daughter's disappearance. In such a small town, word had spread quickly of the event. One could easily spot the toll it had taken on him, yet he spoke to no one about it, nor had he made any effort to retrieve her. Most of the people who spoke of it had concluded that she'd run away, and thought it an abominable thing to do to her parents, and that they were glad to see the back of her.

"I came to see you," he'd said.

Dr. Yazykova had shifted awkwardly. "Come in then."

James frowned, wondering what Dr. Yazykova had to hide. Once he was inside his office, James had set up his laptop, and turned the screen towards Dr. Yazykova.

Dr. Yazykova's face went from drawn to distraught. He'd stared at the message a long time before saying anything.

"Are you sure she sent this from a secure location?"

James shook his head. "I can't be sure."

Dr. Yazykova's face was impassive. "What's the attachment?"

"I haven't looked at it yet," James answered.

"Good," Dr. Yazykova said. He exhaled slowly. "It's probably best that you don't."

"But she said – "

"I don't care what she said!" Dr. Yazykova reached over and slammed the laptop shut. "Whatever it is, if it gets out, it will only get her killed. She took a risk, and if you act on it, she'll be dead."