They have encircled the pickup, and Mikal is leaning hard against the American, for now unmindful of the broken arm, the 9 mm keeping them at bay, trembling electrically with fear and his heart hammering. A wooden pole has appeared in someone’s hand and an attempt is being made to snag a loop of the chain with it.
The son has a large fixed-blade knife with a clip point and he swings it at Mikal and Mikal turns and catches him richly on the side of the head with the butt of the pistol. Some of the young men are servants or retainers of the family and although they circle and snarl they cannot go against the master’s wishes. But the others are on full attack so they must be cousins within the family.
Two other elderly men have appeared from the house. They call the young men by name and those who have been called stop and look back. The master of the house is still struggling with his son, who has half climbed over the side of the pickup, breathing heavily, his face distorted and mouth slobbering as the father puts him in an armlock. He pulls him off and stands holding him, the knife flashing in the hand.
‘O Allah!’ says the father. ‘O Allah, I seek refuge in You!’
With hands raised threateningly and other displays of rage and authority, the two elderly men have subdued the cousins. The father pushes the son away from the pickup. ‘I want you to control yourself,’ he says.
‘All right.’
‘All right what? All right, you dog? All right, you wretch?’
‘All right, Father.’
The man stands with his hands on his hips, catching his breath. Then he turns to Mikal. ‘Start talking, boy.’
‘I was hoping to spend the night here before moving on.’
‘You just thought I would let you do that with him sitting in the back?’
‘I was about to tell you everything, but then they came and wanted to start a war.’
‘What did you think would happen when someone saw him?’
‘I didn’t know what else to do, uncle.’
‘What do you mean start a war?’ the son shouts. ‘We are already at war.’
‘I know that.’
‘They killed my brother last November.’ The son points at the American with the knife.
‘If you know we are at war,’ says the father, ‘tell me what you are doing with that man?’
‘I discovered him in the desert. I would have left him there but then I saw that he had the snow leopard. The cub belonged to Akbar’s sister.’ He gestures towards the house. ‘The people Aunt Fatima works for. So this man has probably been into Akbar’s house in Megiddo. I need to find someone who can ask him a few things.’
The man considers the information. Behind him the younger men are pacing, their jaws working with wrath.
The man turns to them. ‘Everyone go back to the house. Ghulam, make sure no one leaves the house. No one.’
Turning back to Mikal he says, ‘Nobody here speaks English.’
‘I thought one of the teachers at the school might.’
The man thinks for a few moments. ‘You’re right. One of them can.’
Only now does Mikal realise that he is still leaning against the American. He pulls away and stands up and climbs off the bed.
‘The English-speaking teacher lives on the other side of town. Someone could go and bring her here,’ the man says, ‘but I don’t think it can be done right now.’
‘No.’ Mikal nods in agreement.
‘We have to wait until morning. I’d rather not go knocking on people’s doors in the middle of the night. Anyway she won’t want to come at this time. Her family will want to know where we want to take her.’
‘If word got out she’d spoken to an American who knows what might happen to her.’ Mikal looks at the man. ‘I am sorry for involving you in this.’
‘If word gets out I had an American in my house who knows what will happen to me? And to the rest of my family. The whole town is full of Taliban and al-Qaeda.’
‘I am sorry. Maybe I should leave right now.’
‘Why would you think I meant that?’ the man says. ‘You’re here now. We need to work out what to do next. I think we should wait until morning, and when it’s time for the school to start, the teacher will arrive and we can bring her here without anyone knowing.’
‘I won’t be able to leave here till well into the morning?’
‘It seems that way.’
‘I have to go back to Heer as soon as possible.’
‘Where is that?’
‘It’s the place I am from. In Punjab.’
‘Call them in the morning and tell them you’ll be late. And what are you going to do with the American once he has answered your questions?’
‘I haven’t thought that far ahead.’ Mikal leans against the pickup door.
The man’s eyes examine him closely. ‘When was the last time you ate?’
‘I am just tired.’
‘I’ll wake the women, if they aren’t already up. Come in and they’ll feed you. Just listen to those dogs.’
‘Uncle, his arm is broken.’
The man stands looking at the American. ‘I’ll get Ghulam to set it. You come in.’
‘I think we should feed him too.’
‘What does he eat? We don’t have anything special.’
‘I have food for him.’
He takes out the rucksack and looks at the MREs. Unzipping a small pocket in the rucksack’s lining he takes out the blood chit and unfolds it. There is a phone number. He stands looking at it and then puts it back in the pocket and turns around to face the man. ‘I’ll stay out here with him. I don’t want to leave him on his own.’ He thinks of the son’s thick steel knife, the broad six-inch blade. It must be a fighting weapon because a strip of brass is inlaid at its back to catch an opponent’s blade, an upper guard that bends forward to provide protection to the owner’s hand during parries.
‘We’ll put him in the garage at the back of the house and lock the garage door,’ the man says. ‘You come and eat and afterwards you can feed him.’
*
‘He had the cub?’ Fatima asks. She and her sister are awake, preparing a meal for him. Mutton and peas are being heated in a pan. She spoons it onto a plate. He hears men’s voices from the other side of the wall, raised in argument as Fatima brings him a chapatti in a chintz cloth.
‘Yes.’
‘He must know what happened at the house.’
He nods and she goes back to the stove. ‘His fellow soldiers are probably looking for him,’ she says. ‘Do you think they could track you here?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘The leopard’s grown a little,’ she says.
‘He has, hasn’t he.’
‘Are you sure it’s the same one?’
‘I checked. The dark spot on the inside of the left ear.’