The day wore on; Aarya continued her superhuman effort. As the fierce afternoon heat died away and evening came, she started to wonder if even the threat of being shot was enough to keep her moving. And it was at just that point that she looked up and saw something in the distance.
It was a conurbation of some sort. A village? A town? Aarya couldn’t tell. To the left of it, she saw the river. The evening sun sparkled on the water. Aarya, with her parched throat and exhausted limbs, felt teased by the sight. Amir too seemed affected. ‘Angoor,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘My home town. We will be there in less than an hour.’
Amir’s home town? By rights, Aarya knew, it should be a place to fear; but in fact, the very sight of it gave her a renewed surge of energy. Even if it meant she was to be locked up once again in some awful prison, at least she would be able to rest.
‘Keep walking!’ Amir told her. ‘I am still prepared to shoot you, even though we are close.’
Aarya stumbled onwards.
They attracted attention as they entered the outskirts of the town. Attention from the children playing in the dirt; attention from the adults going about their business, transporting goods in rickety wheelbarrows or sitting outside open-fronted stalls that lined certain streets. The evening air was thick with the smell of food cooking. On street corners, she saw members of the Afghan police force. They leaned on their weapons, smoking cigarettes and joking amongst themselves and with other locals. Certainly they did nothing about the local men with guns who paraded up and down with a brash swagger that made them look like they owned the place. One of these men — a swarthy guy with broad shoulders — shouted a greeting to Amir. Amir nodded at him, but didn’t speak.
Through the mist of her exhaustion, Aarya could sense that this place was tense and lawless. It was weird, but she wanted to stay close to Amir. Many people stared at him as they passed, but these were stares of respect. As long as she was with him, Aarya sensed, nobody would approach her.
Amir, despite the load he was carrying on his back, walked with renewed urgency. He clearly knew these streets well, and before long he had guided them off the main road that ran through the centre of town and into a maze of side streets — wide and spacious, but ramshackle and full of houses that looked like they were near collapse. He stopped outside one of the few two-storey houses and kicked three times on the wooden door. Aarya looked up. On the first-floor balcony she saw an armed man looking down with an unfriendly stare. A shiver went down her back as she waited for the door to open.
Amir was expected, just as he always was. As they entered the house — it was dark and didn’t smell at all good — five men greeted him like a brother, then stood back to admire the suitcase bomb, which he had unstrapped from his back. One of the men, who wore a plain black robe, spoke to him in Pashtun: ‘Where are the others?’
‘Fallen,’ Amir spat. ‘At the hands of the hated invaders.’
A shadow passed over them. A silence. It was only then that any of them even noticed Aarya. ‘Who is she?’ the man in the black robe demanded.
‘It is not important who she is,’ Amir replied. ‘She comes with me as a hostage. See to it that she is put under lock and key — and I suppose she should be fed if she is not going to perish on me.’ He didn’t even look at her as he spoke.
Aarya felt strong hands on her arms. Struggling wasn’t even an option as she was dragged into an adjoining room and locked in.
If Ben was here, she thought to herself, he would try to do something clever… But Ben wasn’t here. She was completely alone and too exhausted even to move. She collapsed on the floor barely a metre from the door and just lay there, already almost asleep. Through the fog in her mind, however, she heard voices on the other side of the door. Half of her wanted to sleep; the other half told her she should listen, so with a massive effort she tuned her ear in and concentrated on what was being discussed.
Amir was speaking. ‘It has been a difficult journey,’ he said. ‘The hostages were a last-minute decision and they have caused us a great deal of trouble. But I will continue with the girl. The closer we get to the ISAF forces, the more useful she will become.’
‘The ISAF forces,’ his friend said lazily, ‘will not approach this town. We control it.’
‘Your other companions,’ another voice said. Aarya thought it was the man in the dark robe. ‘You think they are dead?’
‘I do not see how they could have survived the airstrike,’ Amir said. ‘But we must not dwell on that until after the operation is complete. When we destroy the dam, all of Afghanistan will know of it. Then we may celebrate their lives, not mourn their deaths.’
The men grunted in agreement.
‘In any case,’ Amir continued, ‘it may be that things will be easier now. Kajaki is heavily defended. It will perhaps be easier for the girl and me to approach unnoticed. The bomb must be planted as close to the dam as possible if we are to destroy it completely.’
‘God willing, you will be successful in your mission.’
Then a new voice spoke. ‘You said you had more than one hostage?’ There was something accusatory in his voice.
‘Yes,’ Amir said quietly, and Aarya could just imagine his white eye burning as he spoke. ‘A boy. I think it likely that he was killed in the airstrike.’
‘And if he wasn’t killed?’ the third voice persisted. ‘What, then? Will he not try to alert the invaders?’
Amir snorted. ‘The boy is an idiot. I would not trust him to do anything successfully. And besides, he knows nothing of my mission. No, we do not need to worry about him. Of that I can assure you. Even if he does alert anybody, they will have no time to stop me. It happens tonight. I will take the bomb to Kajaki after dark.’
‘I hope you are right, Amir. This operation has been a long time in the planning. It would be unacceptable for it to fail on account of one boy.’
‘It will not fail,’ Amir stated. ‘That is all I have to say.’
The black-robed man spoke again. ‘What will you do with the girl?’
A pause. Aarya held her breath.
‘As I have told you, she will accompany me to the dam. If I need to sacrifice her to ensure the success of the operation, I will.’ He laughed — a short ugly laugh tinged with cruelty. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘once the bomb is planted, she will be of no more use. I will kill her then. Whatever happens, tonight will be her last on this earth…’
Chapter Seventeen
A few miles to the south, a Black Hawk helicopter kicked up a huge cloud of dust as it came in to land. Ricki, Toby, Matt and Jack disembarked at the landing zone of the British base at Sangin, leaving the two pilots in the chopper.
The four-man SAS unit each wore ultra-modern digital camouflage made up of tiny squares, and carried M16 assault rifles with hologram sights that had been painted an olive-green colour. On their heads were dun-coloured helmets with night-vision goggles propped up on the tops. Each man wore an ops waistcoat. Ricki and Toby had their handguns attached to their waistcoats just in front of their chests; Matt and Jack had them strapped to the inside of their thighs. Personal preference. They all wore knee-pads on both legs, apart from Ricki, who wore one only on his right knee, to protect it when he was in the firing position. On each ops waistcoat, just below the neck, was a small Union Jack; and each man’s name and blood group was marked on their clothes. Toby carried a rucksack with the few essentials they’d need in the field: radio, medical pack, a bit of food.
This SAS unit was travelling light.
They bent down to protect themselves from the air currents caused by the spinning rotary blades; and as they ran towards the main base, the SAS unit passed ordinary green army soldiers running the other way, well armed with their SA80 rifles so that they could protect the Black Hawk while it was stationary at the LZ.