‘Why are we stopping?’ Ben demanded. He didn’t expect a response and he didn’t get one. The back doors were opened and he was ordered off the truck with a flick of the guard’s rifle. It was hotter outside the truck than in, and he felt faint with hunger and dehydration. From a bag, one of his captors pulled a large, flat piece of bread. He tore it into several parts while one of the others undid Ben’s hands. He was given a piece of bread but, as before, Aarya was ignored. An obstinate look crossed Ben’s face. Turning, he tore off a small piece of bread and held it to her mouth.
Immediately he felt an arm pulling him back.
‘No!’ he shouted. ‘She’s got to eat something. She needs water too.’ Ben drew himself to his full height and squared up to the man who had pulled him — the man with the scarred eye.
The stared at each other. A tense moment. The guard’s good eye narrowed. He hesitated, but then drew a bottle of water out from under his robes and gave it to Ben, who snatched it and immediately carried it to Aarya. He held it up to her lips, and she drank gratefully before taking a mouthful of bread.
Ben drank too, then they moved into the shade of the truck. The men were standing at a distance from them, talking quietly.
‘Can you hear what they’re saying?’ he asked Aarya.
She shook her head. ‘Not very well,’ she replied. ‘I think they are waiting for something.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know.’
Ben scowled. ‘I don’t understand this,’ he muttered. ‘Why are we here? Why are they doing this?’
Aarya gave him a stern look. ‘I do not know why some people do anything,’ she said darkly, and Ben remembered the story she had told him about her aunt. He was filled with a new fear.
Just then they heard a sound in the distance. Their captors clearly heard it too, because they hurried to the other side of the truck to look down the road.
For the first time, they were on their own. ‘Quick!’ Ben whispered. He struggled to untie the cords that bound Aarya’s wrists, then gently pulled her to her feet. He looked around. The landscape was barren and there was almost nowhere to hide. They could either run back along the road, or follow the low wall. The approaching noise became louder as Ben hesitated, looking this way and that.
Maybe if he hadn’t, they’d have got away. At that moment, however, one of the men reappeared behind them. He saw that Aarya’s hands were untied and shouted loudly. Almost immediately the others were there, guns pointing. Ben cursed under his breath as the man with the scarred eye issued an instruction.
‘He said, “Move”,’ Aarya translated. ‘To the other side of the truck.’
There was nothing they could do but obey. More dejected than ever, Ben led the way. It was then that he saw what was making the approaching noise.
There were three of them. Three trucks, large and ungainly. They were a sandy colour and almost the height of two grown men. The wheels themselves were a metre high and each vehicle had two spares, one on either side. There was an opening on the top of each truck, for some kind of top-gunner, Ben assumed, although there was no one making use of them. The vehicles were encased in armoured steel and trundled slowly towards them, coming to a halt perhaps ten metres from where Ben was standing.
The engines were switched off and an ominous silence filled the air. The three guards stared in awe at the vehicles. They had fallen quiet too.
One by one, the doors of the armoured trucks opened and more men appeared. Ben counted them as they climbed out: one, two, three, four, five, six. All of them in traditional robes — though not all black, this time; and all of them with rifles strapped across their backs. They were bearded, with dark skin, and their faces were serious. Ben could sense Aarya looking at them in undisguised fear as they approached.
The next few minutes passed in a haze. There was suddenly much talking, none of which Ben could understand. He wanted to ask Aarya what everyone was saying, but the question stuck in his throat. The man with the scarred eye took one of the newcomers to one side. They spoke quietly, looking towards Ben and Aarya all the time. They seemed to agree on something, then returned to the others.
Two of the new men went to the back of the Land Rover. When they reappeared, they were carrying the suitcase-like package that had been in the back. Ben had the impression that it was light enough for one person to carry, but they were just making sure. The package was loaded into the middle of the three trucks.
And then the new arrivals turned their attention to Ben and Aarya.
There were no words. Not at first. Just a flick of a gun. Ben could tell what it meant. Get in the armoured truck. One of the newcomers looked stranger and more sinister than the others. His eyes were different colours — one brown, one a kind of milky, albino white — and one side of his neck was scaly, red and damaged. He led them to the rear truck and as they walked, the men started talking again.
Aarya stopped. Her tired eyes went wide and she started shaking her head.
‘What is it?’ Ben asked. But she wasn’t allowed to answer. A barked instruction from the young man and they were hustled up into the armoured vehicle.
It was hot inside. Like an oven. There were thin, hard seats along two sides and ugly armoured steel all around. This was not exactly travelling in comfort. Ben and Aarya sat next to each other, their strange new guard opposite them, his gun pointed firmly in their direction. There was more shouting outside; the doors of the trucks were slammed closed and the interior was plunged into gloom as there were no windows, just a few small ventilation holes covered with wire mesh.
Ben, though, wasn’t paying any attention to the guard, or to the shouts, or to the surroundings. He was listening to Aarya, who had started to sob uncontrollably.
‘What is it?’ Ben asked. ‘What were they saying, Aarya?’
She looked at him with panic in her tear-stained eyes.
‘The border,’ she replied. ‘They’re taking us across the border. We’re going into Afghanistan…’
Chapter Seven
In Kampur, the mood was one of alarm.
Miss Messenger had her hands clutched together, like a woman praying. The redness around her eyes suggested she had been crying. Mr Sawyer and Mr Knight prowled at the front of the classroom where they had all congregated, their faces as dark as storm clouds. Carl kept running his hand nervously through his slicked-back hair, looking like he hadn’t slept. The students just sat in silence.
‘We need to know,’ Mr Knight said, ‘who the last person to see Ben was. Did anyone have any conversations with him after school yesterday? Anything at all?’
Ed kept his mouth shut and looked at the floor. He had seen Ben, of course, just before he went off to do his knight-in-shining-armour bit, showing off in front of the girl after the local lads had knocked him down. But he wasn’t going to tell anybody else that. He didn’t like Ben Tracey and he didn’t trust him. Chances were that he was just off hiding somewhere, making life difficult for everyone else. And anyway, if Ed did admit to having seen him, everyone would probably start blaming him. They always did. No, he thought. Much better to keep quiet like everyone else.
‘All right, everybody,’ Mr Knight continued when there was no answer to his question. ‘I don’t want anyone to panic. We’ve informed the British Embassy and they’re sending someone out as soon as possible. In the meantime, we’re all going to stay together.’
Rebecca put her hand up. ‘Will we have to go home, sir?’