Seven minutes after Abdul had left his room, David walked out of the house eating an apple which he had picked up from the table in the kitchen. He had grabbed a drink of water from a jug that was always kept full, and hoped it wouldn’t be too long before Abdul explained what the drama was all about, and then perhaps he could get a satisfying meal inside his belly.
Abdul had seemed nervous lately, not that it was too obvious, but David had been in Abdul’s custody long enough now to know that something was worrying him.
As usual, the two lieutenants signalled David to join them in the Toyota. He clambered in and took up his usual position in the rear passenger seat, sandwiched between the two men.
Abdul came hurrying out of the farmhouse and looked quickly at another Toyota that had lined up behind his car. He gave a satisfying nod of the head and clambered into the Landcruiser. The driver slipped it into gear and hit the accelerator, spinning the wheels on the sandy ground and throwing up clouds of dust.
The second Toyota followed and the two vehicles motored away from the farmhouse in which the men had stayed overnight. David peered through the window and watched the dwelling grow smaller until it was lost from sight behind the rising ground they were leaving behind.
But if David had looked up into a sky that was coming to life in a mixture of reds and dark blues, he might, just might have seen an American MQ-9 pilotless drone watching their progress, eight thousand feet above them.
Cavendish was standing behind a United States Air Force Colonel who was sitting at the control desk of the MQ-9 Reaper unmanned drone. The aircraft was flying above Abdul Khaliq’s Landcruiser, looking down from the sky at an easy target. They were inside the MQ-9 control station that had been fitted into a windowless, air conditioned trailer at the American Air Force base at Khost.
Immediately in front of the USAF Officer was essentially the ‘cockpit’ of the MQ-9, with hand controls to fly the unmanned drone. In front of him were two, large coloured screens that gave him a camera shot looking down towards the ground, and a moving map on which he could track the drone’s progress. With the camera view he was able to maintain contact with the target which, in this case was Abdul Khaliq’s Toyota Landcruiser.
Beside him was the sensor operator who operated the sensors that were essential to fly the aircraft. Between them the two men were like the flight crew of a two man jet. Fortunately for Abdul Khaliq, this was not a hostile interdiction.
Cavendish was at Khost base at his own request; he had flown out the moment he had received the most unexpected text message on his phone just a couple of days previously, and had been met at the base by the Base Security Officer, Lieutenant Brad McCain.
Cavendish now knew that David Ellis was alive and well. Although Cavendish had put a trace on the call, the number was unlisted, but he was now convinced that the search for his man would end in Afghanistan.
Cavendish believed he knew the reason Susan had received those letters; it was because someone was definitely trying to contact him without making it known in Afghanistan. And David had named Abdul Khaliq in the text message. Putting two and two together was fairly simple logic, but Cavendish knew he was not quite touching home base; there was still plenty to do.
He stayed in the MQ-9 trailer until he had seen enough, and told the young officer at the cockpit controls that he was leaving. He said he would check with the operations officer on the time of the next MQ-9 over flight of the suspected target.
On his way back to his quarters, Cavendish passed by a great number of service and civilian personnel all walking from one place to the other, intent on their business, getting on with their own lives in that hostile environment.
As he walked past the Base Headquarters, Cavendish saw two men come out of the building and get into a waiting car. One of the men was wearing the uniform of a pilot. The other was a civilian and Cavendish thought he recognised him. He watched the car pull away but was unable to get a closer look at the man because of the darkened windows of the car. He shrugged and thought no more of it, and continued his progress towards his own accommodation block, hoping it would come to him later.
Janov had no trouble crossing the border between Turkmenistan and Afghanistan. It was something he had done countless times before and would probably do countless times in the future. It crossed his mind at the time that he might even move the centre of his operation into Afghanistan once he had disposed of the troublesome Abdul Khaliq.
Sitting beside him in the Nissan 4x4 was Maggot. He had travelled with Janov to Turkmenistan, leaving behind the good life in England for a while. He hoped it would only be temporary, but deep inside his instincts told him it was for good.
With Janov were two men; his permanent minders. The four of them were on their way to Maymaneh, a small town about fifty miles inland from the border. It was one of Janov’s safest towns, simply because of its closeness to the Turkmenistan border and the fact that the opium fields like the war did little to interfere with the lives of the local Afghan people.
They reached Maymaneh in time for lunch, and Janov’s driver pulled into the parking lot of a small hotel. He killed the engine and the four men climbed out and went into the hotel for a meal. Janov wasn’t keen to stay too long, so within the hour they were on their way again, driving down the single carriageway that divided the town.
On the way to the airfield they passed a white, armoured scout car with a Finnish emblem emblazoned on the side. It was part of the United Nations security force. The Finns were there alongside their Norwegian counterparts. Janov almost felt sorry for the poor sods that had to serve in such a god forsaken wilderness.
They reached the airfield and left the car in a parking lot. Then they walked through to the airport waiting room and took a seat while one of Janov’s men went in search of their flight crew. Because they were flying internally, there were no formalities to complete other than logging a flight plan and a passenger list.
While they were waiting for the formalities to be concluded, Janov received a text on his mobile phone. He read the message and grunted in satisfaction. He now knew where Abdul was heading.
Within thirty minutes of arriving at Maymaneh airfield, Janov, his two minders and Maggot were on their way to Kabul, and a final showdown with Abdul Khaliq.
Susan was sitting in an armchair in her hotel room reading a book. The television was tuned into Sky News, but the sound was off. It was early evening and Susan was more or less at the end of her personal quest to find her brother. She had spoken to the editors of the three newspapers she had chosen at random from the internet, and received much the same, condescending attention she had experienced at the British Embassy. Sure, there would be press coverage, but with so much happening, so many people being killed and injured by suicide bombers and roadside bombs… Blah, blah.
Susan had no real idea what to do next. Perhaps she would go up to the Mission at Jalalabad, but wondered if there was anything to be gained by doing that. It might bring her closer to her brother, but it was almost a year now since the attack. She gave up the thought and stared sightlessly at the page of her book. Then she got up, threw the book on her bed and wondered if she should ring Marcus and suggest they share a drink downstairs in the hotel bar.
Just then there was a knock at the door. For a moment she wondered if it was Marcus. Perhaps he had come up with the same idea as her. She felt a little excited and hurried across to the door and opened it.
Ali Seema, the interpreter was standing there with Marcus. Seema bowed his head a little.
‘Miss Ellis, please forgive this intrusion, but I would like you both to come with me please.’