Finally, the orgy was over. Farah fell back exhausted but ecstatic, the juices of love still glistening around the parts of her person which had drawn them. Her three lovers likewise crumpled to the dirt floor of the hut. For the moment, at least, they were too fagged out by sex to go after me again. Soon the sound of their snoring filled the air. Nevertheless, I kept a tight grip on the Luger and struggled to keep my eyes open.
I lost the fight. I don't know how long I slept, but the sky outside was still dark when I was awakened by Farah's touch. I sprang to a sitting position and looked at her intently. She put her fingers to her lips and motioned for me to follow her outside.
There, on the ground, was a pack she'd made up for me with some food and wine in it. A heavy fur robe and sandals stood beside it. She pointed to the hut and then drew her hand across my throat like a knife. I understood that she was telling me that if I was still there when her boy friends awoke, they would kill me. From what I'd seen, I judged she was right.
“Kabul?” I asked her, hoping the name of the city would ring a bell.
It did. She nodded to show she comprehended that Kabul was where I wanted to go. She pointed to the trail going up the mountain. Then she knelt and drew a map for me in the snow. First she drew the mountain, pointing to the trail to show me it would take me to the top. She drew two lines to indicate that there were two trails going down the other side of the mountain. She pointed at me and then at one of the lines and I understood I was to take the left-hand trail. She pointed at the foot of the mountain she'd drawn and scratched three lines from it in the snow. Once again she made me understand that I must bear left. Finally, she gouged out a deep wide groove that I took to be a highway intercepted by the trail she'd indicated I should take. She drew an arrow to the right alongside it and then piled up a snowball at the end of the line. "Kabul," she said.
I nodded to show I understood. I stared at her diagram for a long time to be sure it was firmly imprinted on my mind. Then I gave her a quick kiss good-bye, hefted the pack to my shoulders and started up the trail. She was still standing there waving to me as I rounded the first bend.
Quite a girl, I thought to myself as I trudged onward. I knew wives back in America who never stopped griping about having to put up with one husband. Yet Farah was a girl who had three and I'd bet she never complained at all.
It was something to think about during the long climb ahead.
007
YOU PUT one foot in front of the other and hope against frostbite. That’s how you get to Kabul, That's how I got there. It took about a day and a half.
I treated myself to another half-day of soaking in a steaming tub, arranging for a tailor to come up and fit me for some clothes, wiring the foundation in the States to arrange for funds, and packing away a hot meal fit for a Maharajah. I'd bribed the tailor to run up one of the suits immediately and he delivered it while I was finishing my steak. I got dressed and went down to the hotel bar for a scotch and soda. It was all I needed to make me feel human again.
I was on my second, sitting at the bar, when that familiar English perfume hit me before I saw her. But I didn't turn around until the softness of her voice murmured close to my ear. "Hello, Steve, I see you found your way here.”
“Hello, Vickie. Can I buy you a drink?"
“Thank you. A very dry Rob Roy, please."
“Are you alone?"
"Yes."
"I'm in room three-one-seven," I told her. “Why don't you call and tell your associate not to bother rifling it? He won't find anything.”
“He wouldn't answer," she said, calmly acknowledging that I'd guessed right. “And anyway, he needs the practice."
“Still, you should know better. After all, you took care of getting rid of everything I had. I haven't been in Kabul long enough to acquire anything new in the way of incriminating evidence."
“But then there's no telling what you might have picked up on your travels," Vickie pointed out.
“That's for sure." I thought of Farah briefly and smiled.
"And anyway,” Vickie added, “you shouldn't be bitter about what I did to you. You more than got even. Leaving me naked and stranded in that train compartment that way. Do you call that gentlemanly?"
“No. just expedient. By the way, how did you manage to disembark?"
"In style." She giggled. “I took the sheet from the bunk and fashioned a sort of toga from it. Off-the-shoulder and with a real daring slit up the side. It was a very narrow sheet. I stopped traffic just getting from the train to a cab."
“I'll bet you did! I wish I'd been there to see it. It must have been a red-letter day for Anglo-Afghan relations.”
"Judging from the number of pinches and the stares I drew, I'd say you were right."
"You must have really enjoyed it," I observed.
“What makes you say that?"
“The change in your appearance." I let my eyes rove meaningfully up and down the strapless evening gown she was wearing. It was one of those skin-tight numbers that defies the laws of gravity, the kind that leaves no room for a bra underneath it—not that Vickie needed one. “This new image of yours is a far cry from the tweedy virgin of Albion I met on the train,” I added.
“Do you like it?" Her eyes sparkled at me seductively. "I’m so glad. I really bought it with you in mind.” She cocked her head flirtatiously and her red curls swished enticingly over her bare shoulders. "I do feel this sort of animal magnetism between us," she said.
I burst out laughing. "I’ll just bet you do. What next, Vickie? Are you going to lure me up to your room so we can make love?"
“Would you like that?"
“Very much. But once bitten by the chastity of a British agent, twice shy. Somehow I suspect that just about the time I was doffing my pants, Her Majesty's royal espionage service would pop out of the woodwork to safeguard your virginity—and spirit me away to London for an encore. I can't imagine why, but I just can't help feeling that you don't really want me for my virile self."
“Oh, dear," she sighed comically. “How will I ever convince you?"
“You won’t."
“But it would have made things so simple."
“Sorry. I guess you'll just have to think of some other way of getting me into the clutches of British Intelligence."
"Don't worry, I will," she told me sweetly, rising to leave. “Thanks for the drink."
“You're welcome. I'll be seeing you."
“You can be sure of that,” she called over her shoulder as she left the cocktail lounge.
I watched her go. So did every other man sitting in the bar. She had some shape! In motion, it was as erotic as just about anything an Oriental seraglio might have to offer. I wondered if she really was as pure as she made herself out to be. If she was, it sure was one hell of a waste of nature's bounties.
I finished my drink and went out to the desk clerk in the hotel lobby. "What’s the fanciest brothel in Kabul?" I asked, palming a bill to him.
“Mama Macri's is much favored by Europeans."
“How do I find it?"
“Any cab driver will take you there."
Twenty minutes later I was standing in the vestibule of Mama Macri's establishment. “I'd like to see Mama Macri," I told the burly Afghan who let me in.
“Of course." He bent his head so that his bald pate caught the light and the large golden rings piercing his ears tinkled slightly. "If you will be so good as to wait in the parlor." He pointed out a curtained doorway.