‘They’ll have a tail on you, to find out who you are and what you’re up to.’
‘I’m pretty much sure I’ve not been followed.’
‘If they’re good, you wouldn’t see them,’ said Shepherd.
‘It’s not the end of the world,’ said Harper. ‘I’m not registered under my own name and the passport I came in on isn’t in my name either. But you’re right, I need to be careful.’
‘You might be OK,’ said Shepherd. ‘But better safe than sorry. How are you on counter-surveillance?’
‘I look over my shoulder from time to time.’
Shepherd laughed. ‘Yeah, that’ll do it. I tell you what, stay put and I’ll take a look tomorrow. You can take a walk around and I’ll see if there’s anyone on you. I’m free in the afternoon so I’ll fix something up and give you a call. But in the meantime, stay away from the mosques.’
Shepherd ended the call, lay back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He was as keen as Harper to track down Ahmad Khan, but it had to be done properly. There was no point in finding him if they exposed themselves at the same time. But the question that was troubling Shepherd was what had to be done once they’d found Khan.
AFGHANISTAN 2002
Ahmad Khan left Lailuna with his sister and went to meet his Taliban comrades. He knew that many of them were privately as unhappy as him with the extremism of some of their leaders. Sitting around a campfire sipping cups of hot sweet tea, he told them what he proposed to do, knowing that he was putting his life in their hands.
‘You all know me,’ he said. ‘We have fought together side by side, some of us for many years. We have defended our country and our faith. We have fought the Russians, the Americans, the British, and we have crossed the border to fight the Pakistanis when they attacked our brothers there and, when there were no faranji to fight, we have fought among ourselves. But now I am growing weary of war. Have I, have we all, not earned the right to live in peace? Soon it will be time to go home, cultivate our land, raise our families and live our lives.’
There were nods and murmurs of agreement from his men. And when it came time to leave the campfire, his men had agreed to his plan. He left them and made off as if heading for his home, but after nightfall he made his way down from the mountains, walking westwards throughout the night and the day that followed. A few miles outside Jalalabad he stopped and lay up in the cover of some trees, observing an American Forward Operating Base. He knew its location because he and his comrades had mortared it on several occasions. He watched and waited, less concerned by the comings and goings of military patrols than the whereabouts of Afghan civilians. Among them, he knew, were Taliban spies and informers, and he could not afford to be seen by them. In late afternoon, he saw his chance. The road leading to the base was largely deserted and a convoy of American vehicles returning from patrol had created a cloud of dust that hung in the air like fog.
Holding his AK-74 rifle by the end of the barrel, and with both arms spread wide to show he posed no threat, he walked slowly towards the gates, calling out that he wanted to speak to an officer. The guards ordered him to stop and open his jacket to prove he was not wearing a suicide vest and he had to lie flat in the dirt while they searched him and took his weapon. When they were satisfied that he wasn’t a threat he was allowed into the base under guard and taken to see the commanding officer.
The officer heard him out in silence, asked a few less than penetrating questions and then left the room to confer over a secure link with his superiors at Bagram. Through the half-open door, Khan could hear the murmur of the officer’s voice and then his returning footsteps. The officer tossed him a can of Coke, cool from the fridge, winked and said, ‘Welcome aboard.’
Khan was given back his AK-74, though the magazines and spare ammunition were kept in a locked box carried by his American escort. He was flown to Bagram by helicopter that night, and debriefed by an African-American intelligence officer with the Defense Intelligence Agency. ‘Salaam alaikum, Khan,’ the officer said, touching his hand to his heart in the Afghan way, as Khan was shown into his office. ‘I’m Joshua.’ Khan suspected that it was not his real name, but the officer seemed open and honest, he met Khan’s gaze when he spoke to him, and he treated him with respect.
Khan first laid out his terms. ‘I’m willing to come over to your side,’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you everything I know, the names of my comrades and the senior Taliban commanders I know, the tactics they use, the places where their weapons and explosives are hidden, the locations of their safe houses, and how they’re financed. I can tell you about the money house across the border in Pakistan where the money from drug smuggling, protection rackets and the stolen bribes you pay to buy the loyalties of warlords is stored and distributed to Taliban fighters and their allies. I can tell you the names of a few of the spies and sleepers within the Afghan regular army and I’ll even spy for you if you want.’
‘And what’s your angle?’ Joshua said. ‘What do you want in return for all of this?’
‘Do you have children?’ Khan said.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because if you have children, you will understand. I want a new life for my daughter in the West. Afghanistan is not safe for her. The Taliban have beaten her and I fear that one day they will return to kill her.’
‘And presumably you want to go to the West with her?’
‘Insh’allah, yes. But you must promise me that even if I am killed, you will still arrange for my daughter to leave this country.’
He waited in silence as Joshua weighed his words. ‘Deal,’ he said at last, and held out his hand. ‘Shake on it.’
For the next forty-eight hours, Khan told and retold his story, as Joshua interrogated him, probing and cross-examining him like a courtroom lawyer, never satisfied until he had teased out the last detail of everything Khan said, and, where possible, had cross-checked it against other information that he already possessed. He also brought in a succession of his colleagues for whom Khan had to repeat his story over and over again.
When Joshua at last pronounced himself satisfied, Khan added one final piece of information. ‘I think my men are also ready to come over,’ he said. ‘They are disenchanted with some of our leaders and tired of the endless fighting. There’s been no peace in Afghanistan for thirty years. They’re proud men and they won’t surrender to you, but if you give them a way to save face and hold out the prospect of peace to them, if not immediately, then at least soon, I think they will take it.’
He explained his planned rendezvous with his comrades and showed Joshua the place on a map. ‘The Brits are responsible for that area,’ Joshua said, ‘and they’ve an FOB a few miles from there. I’ll introduce you to a British contact and he can make the arrangements to bring your guys in.’
Khan was unconvinced by Joshua’s insistence on involving the British. He realised that Joshua didn’t completely trust Khan so he was letting the British handle the surrender. That way, if anything went wrong, it would be the British and not the Americans who would take the blame.
‘One other thing,’ Joshua said. ‘There is another agent in the same area. I don’t know his identity but he’s being run by the Brits, and if his own cover is threatened and he has any inkling that you are also an agent, he might betray you to save himself.’
‘Is there nothing else you can tell me about him?’
‘There is one thing. I’ve heard the Brits talk about him when we’ve been exchanging intelligence, and they used a code name for him that apparently he chose himself: “Abu Qartoob”. Do you know what it means?’