The Judas gate

'Don't let's beat about the bush,' Ferguson told him. 'My friend, Daniel Holley, tells me that when it comes to what's going on over the border in Afghanistan, you're the expert.'

'True, but what's in it for me?'

'I'll pay well. What's your price?'

'That depends on what it is you want to know.'

'Shamrock,' Ferguson said. 'Who is he and, more to the point, where is he? Do you know these things?'

'Of course I do.'

Ferguson was so surprised that he paused, and it was Miller who said, 'How much?' 'Ten thousand pounds.'

Captain Abu Salim said, 'What a creature you are, Dak Khan. Don't listen to him, General.'

'No, let him speak,' Ferguson said. 'How do I know you would deliver?'

'I would come with you: this I promise.'

'I don't believe you,' Salim said.

'You can accompany them, bring your men.' He shrugged. 'I can only do one more thing to prove myself. As I doubt that you have ten thousand pounds in your wallet, I will accept your word that you will pay me later.'

Ferguson looked at Miller, then Salim. 'What can I say, except let's do it.'

Dak stood up. 'Then let us, as you English say, shake hands on it.' His palm felt limp and sweaty and Ferguson withdrew his hand quickly. 'So what happens now?'

'You come back for me in two hours. I must put my affairs in order. I will go with you then, I promise.'

Ferguson nodded reluctantly, and he and Miller went out. The four men had departed; the Jeep had gone. Dak Khan came to the door, and Abu Salim prodded him with his swagger stick.

'Let us down and I'll put you out of business for good.' He went across to the Sultan, joined the others and was driven away.

Dak Khan spat in the dust and went back inside, where he called Colonel Atep on his mobile. 'They've just visited me.' 'Tell me what happened.'

'Ferguson asked me if I knew Shamrock and I told him I did, which I don't. In fact, I've never heard of him.' 'So what do you intend?'

'I'll take them to a house I know in the back country, where I believe I can guarantee a hostile reception. Let's face it, it happens all the time these days in the border area.'

'This is the most important task I have asked you to perform, given to me by Osama's personal representative in London, the Preacher. So, it is very, very important that you succeed.'

'Of course. I know exactly what I'm doing. There is only one problem. Captain Abu Salim and his two Sergeants will certainly be in the line of fire: is this acceptable?'

'As you say, things happen all the time in the border area. Salim is a nothing. He sees things entirely differently from you and me. With Osama's blessing on you, your success is assured.' Noon: the sun high in the sky, with a wind that stirred the sand. On leaving the city, they joined a convoy of civilian trucks, many of them garishly decorated, military or police vehicles constantly overtaking each of them on the short stretch up to the Khyber Pass. Some time before they got there, under instructions from Khan, Sergeant Nasser turned off on to a well-worn track.

Salim, seated beside Khan, half turned to Ferguson and Miller. 'Federal law only applies on the main road and ten yards on either side. Elsewhere, tribal laws apply.'

Dak Khan said, 'I call this the wilderness.' They passed a small village of four or five mud houses. Two robed men stood by a well watching them, showing no emotion, staring. 'These people are very poor, they have nothing, so they would kill you if they had the chance.'

'Never mind that,' Salim said. 'Where are we going?'

'About eight miles more.' Dak turned his head and added, 'Our destination is very close to the border.'

It was a barren, undulating plain drifting towards the mountains. Dust rose from the burnt, parched land, and Ferguson, holding a handkerchief to his mouth and coughing, said, 'God in heaven, how can anyone live here?'

Khan was wearing a battered Panama hat and a long cotton scarf around his neck, which he occasionally pulled up to his nose.

'It is the will of Allah, it is all they know, General, and we are here.'

Over to the left, the ground lifted to a hillock on which stood a sizeable two-storeyed house that had been painted white at some time. There was an extended wall of mud bricks around it, and windows with wooden shutters, partially open.

A man in blue-and-white robes stood in the yard beside a well, a bucket in one hand and some goats beside him. He looked, turned quickly, opened the front door and stepped inside. The goats came out on to the hillock, bleating, and two or three rough-looking sheep appeared around the side of the house.

A line of stones on either side marked the track up to the house, and beside the entrance, from what passed as a road, was a thorn tree, burnt black by the sun, a dead monument to a dead world.

As Nasser turned the Sultan into the track, Khan said, 'Stop here by the tree.'

Said stood up at the machine gun and charged it, leaning on the frame, looking up towards the house, and Dak Khan took out his mobile and dialled a number.

He spoke in English. 'It's me. Everything is okay. We want to come up to the house.' He listened and then turned. 'He's afraid of the machine gun; he's not certain of our good faith.' He paused, listening again, then said, 'Okay, if that's the way you want it.'

'What's happening?' Ferguson asked.

'He's suspicious. He wants you to stay here and me to go up to the house to establish my credentials.' He shrugged, 'That's the only way he'll do it, otherwise he says you can go away.'

Ferguson turned to Captain Salim, 'What do you think?'

'Well, as we've come this far, let's humour the man.' He said to Said, 'Swing the machine gun on its pivot to cover the house.' He opened the door and got out, and Khan followed him. 'It's all yours. We'll cover you.'

Dak Khan took off his Panama, wiped his face with the scarf and managed a smile. 'I'm sure everything will be fine.'

He started up the track, and three of the goats came to meet him. Salim, binoculars around his neck, raised them and scanned the house.

'The inside of the place is very dark. No sign of any movement.' He paused. 'Yes, I think there's someone there.'

Dak Khan had reached the house, paused, and the door was opened. As he stepped inside, there was a brief flash of white, and then the door closed again.

'So now we wait,' Ferguson said, and Miller opened the door on his side to get out.

As he did so, a shot was fired, a sharp and peculiar cracking sound that echoed in the desert heat. It caught Sergeant Said in the side of the head, his scarlet turban flying into the air as he was catapulted over the side of the Sultan. Nasser's reflex action was to open the door at his side and attempt to scramble out. Three very quick shots, all making that same peculiar cracking sound, hit him in his neck and back, driving him down to collapse over the body of his comrade.

There were three more quick shots, two smashing the windscreen, flying glass cascading over Abu Salim as he crouched beneath the machine gun, another deflected by armour plating.

There was blood on his face from several cuts, and Ferguson slipped out of the rear seat and joined Miller, crouching behind the Sultan.

'Do you know what that thing is?' Miller demanded.

'Another relic of the Soviets in Afghanistan. A Dragunov automatic sniper rifle. Absolutely deadly with a competent marksman.'

'What in hell do we do?' Ferguson asked.

'Let's try this.' Crouched right down, Salim reached up to the handle of the machine gun, swung it round in the general direction of the house, and gave it a long burst.

Then he scrambled across and found the others. There was another shot from the Dragunov and, as the echoes died away, Salim flattened himself against the ground and peered cautiously round the Sultan to the house.

Ferguson said, 'What the hell is going on?'

The Dragunov fired again, several times, and was joined by another weapon, a different sound. 'An AK47,' Miller said. 'I'd know that anywhere.'

Salim said, 'Help me drop the back flap. I think you'll find I have a surprise for them.'