The plain-clothed commandos from the Cherat Special Services Group fanned out on the narrow roads around Khan’s destination. Although their weapons were concealed and they dressed raggedly in an attempt to disguise themselves as the poor, their purposeful movements gave them away immediately as fighting men — but they were identified as mujahedin, whose breeding ground was in Aabpara, not as commandos from the Pakistan army.
Khan stayed in the car while Masood climbed the stairs of the decrepit building. The bodyguards of the Islamic cleric whom the general had come to see challenged Masood and ordered him to hand over his side-arm. Masood responded by drawing the weapon, removing the safety catch and levelling it at the head of one of the bodyguards. He was acting precisely on orders given by Khan.
Khan got out of the car and silently climbed the stairs behind Masood. Then everyone heard the unmistakable clatter of a Huey helicopter gunship overhead.
‘Tell Mullah al-Bishri to open the door,’ snapped Khan, ‘or the armed forces of Pakistan will burn down this street.’
The bodyguard knocked on the door. It opened, and Khan pushed his way through into the room. It had no furniture apart from a low coffee table against the far wall. A red carpet was spread all over, with smaller carpets thrown on top of it and hanging on the wall. The man sitting cross-legged by the coffee table was one of the world’s most powerful Islamic leaders. He didn’t get up, but waved his hand for Khan to sit down and join him. Masood and the bodyguards stayed outside and the door was closed.
‘Yahya was like a son to me,’ said the Mullah. ‘He was doing you no harm. He was fighting the Jihad and I’m told you gave orders for him to be killed.’
Khan did not answer.
‘He was killed in Egypt by a single gunshot wound to the head in the Upper Nile town of Asyut. The gunman came from the Inter-Services Intelligence Agency of Pakistan. I know because we caught him and he said it was you, General, who ordered the death of a freedom fighter.’
Mullah al-Bishri was the leader of the Jamaat-e-Islami, one of the oldest and most deeply entrenched Islamic groups. In a way it was a loose umbrella group for the numerous groups which had based themselves in Pakistan. Jamaat-e-Islami had the biggest network, but others could prove to be equally important in balancing power. The Hizb-ul Mujahadeen was one of the oldest militant groups, made up mostly of Kashmiris. The Sunni Islamic Lashkar-e-Tayyaba represented some of the poorest areas of Pakistan. The Harkat-ul-Mujahedin was an international brigade of fighters, Afghans, Algerians, Egyptians and even guerrillas from Saudi Arabia, people who could pose more of a threat to the stability of the country than the Indian army. And increasingly Khan was seeing the defiant Tehrik-e-Jihad in operation, fighters who came to prominence in 1999 in the battle for Kargil.
He sensed that even Mullah al-Bishri was having trouble maintaining his authority. Al-Bishri had been an ally of Zia-ul-Haq and of Nawaz Sharif, the two Pakistani leaders who held greatest sway over the political arena in the last two decades of the twentieth century. But since then the political landscape had changed dramatically. Over the years, Al-Bishri’s own views had hardened, reflecting the country’s lurch from a moderate to a fundamentalist Islamic society. He now argued that there were no national frontiers for true believers and that, after the victory in Afghanistan, the next natural battlefield was Kashmir. He predicted that Kashmir would soon be won and had ordered the recruitment and training of young men to fight in the Central Asian republics and even take the Jihad across China’s western borders into Xinjiang. One intonation at Friday prayers or one command to his followers throughout Pakistan could bring millions out onto the streets. It was he, more than any other man, who could depose the civilian government, and it was Al-Bishri to whom Khan had to turn for support now.
But the balance of their relationship was delicate. While Khan was a military commander, Al-Bishri would always be an opposition force, a grass-roots activist, a criticizer, but never an achiever. Khan, acutely aware of the cleric’s power, also resented it. Al-Bishri’s ultimate aim was to form an Islamic combination of Central Asia, Pakistan, Afghanistan and Saudi Arabia to create a formidable global force. Yet Khan knew it would never happen. Saudi Arabia bought its cars and fridges from Japan, Europe and America, and its missiles from China. If Pakistan ever interfered either in China or in any oil-producing country in the Middle East it would be abandoned to the whims of a Hindu India. Khan accepted this. Al-Bishri did not.
When Khan was summoned to his run-down house in Aabpara, the message said he should be there within the hour, showing how out of touch al-Bishri was with the schedules of the outside world. The cleric was an academic, steeped in the Koran and in Islamic writings, far away from the world of satellite telephones, laser-guided missiles and the international banking system used by his fighters. He was their moral compass and their religious legitimacy.
‘I am told that the Prime Minister is about to declare himself Amir-ul-Momineen, leader of Muslims,’ said Al-Bishri. ‘They say that power has gone to his head.’
‘I have heard the same,’ said Khan.
‘But I hear also that you favour cancelling the Shariat law and bringing back a colonial-style judicial system.’
‘Yes,’ said Khan bluntly. ‘The Shariat will not encourage foreign investment in Pakistan.’
‘The Shariat is the law for the Islamic people of the world. We do not need their foreign investment.’
‘The Shariat is a law ordained in the Koran and Sunnah, the words and deeds of the prophet. Whenever there is no precedent in either of the two sources, then jurists use independent thinking [ijtihad] to deliver their verdict, and this is variable from jurist to jurist. This is not understood or used by the West, and many Muslims consider it unsuitable for trade and business.
‘Sometimes, jurists have resorted to using either analogy [quias] or consensus [ijma] to arrive at a decision. Out of the 6,666 Koranic verses, only three hundred have any legal connection, meaning that Shariat jurists have a large scope for interpretation. The international banking system and long-term investors would not operate under such a legal system. Their money will only go where it feels safe, and unless it is protected by the rule of law it will go elsewhere. In order to modernize our country, we may have to compromise on some of its ideals.’
‘Saudi Arabia lives under the Shariat and is friendly with the West.’
‘Saudi Arabia has oil.’
Al-Bishri sipped his tea and was silent for some time. ‘You have studied your subject, General.’
‘Yes. I have thought a lot about it.’
‘And part of your thinking was the killing of Yahya?’
‘China is worried that we are sending mujahedin to cause unrest across its western border. I have to assure them that we are not.’
‘What have you told them?’
‘We will try to ensure that no mujahedin, whether they come from the Sudan, Saudia Arabia, Bangladesh or Aabpara, will wage war against the People’s Republic of China.’
‘And in return?’
‘They will supply us with enough weapons and political support to defeat India.’
The cleric nodded, then said: ‘You are a clever young man, but I fear our people will not understand you. China and investment are not things they know about. The Islamic revolution is a tide, General Khan, which ebbs and flows. It is flowing towards Central Asia and no one can stop it. Not you. Not me. Any man who tries would be a fool. However, perhaps there is a way we can stem the tide at least for our time on this earth, and it is the only way I can guarantee my continued support.’