Same Day

After breakfast, Leo waited for a chance to speak to Nara alone. While Zabi reapplied the ointment, he took his opportunity.

—Walk with me.

They left the cave, following the path down the mountainside, reaching the steep drop. Despite Leo’s urgency, Nara seemed distracted. He touched her arm, trying to get her to focus, unsure how long they had.

—Nara?

She looked up, saying:

—You find it hypocritical of me to look after Zabi as if nothing was wrong. I tried to have her killed and now I tend to her wounds? Tell me, how should I behave?

—Nara, you made a terrible mistake. I have been in the same position as you. I have made similar mistakes believing that I was serving a greater good. However, the people who I wronged did not survive. You have an opportunity. Perhaps she is a miracle – she survived.

—I will always know what I did, even if she doesn’t.

—That is true. You must find a way to live with that. It is possible, difficult, but she will need someone to look after her. She is alone. You could love herif she will let you.

No guards had come after them and Leo was pleased that security seemed relaxed. While Nara was still brooding over her decision, he changed the subject to the prospect of escape.

—What are the soldiers planning to do with us? Have they said anything?

Nara shook her head.

—They’ve said very little. They’ve treated us well enough. They’ve fed us. They gave us the almond oil we used for the ointment.

—And Fahad Mohammad?

—He’s here. They haven’t allowed us further inside. When we arrived they provided us with a blanket and told us not to light a fire. They were worried it might be seen.

—And Zabi? How is she?

—She’s upset…

Leo interrupted:

—I mean, is she strong enough to run?

He peered down the path, assessing their position and altitude. A man leading a mountain pony was climbing the trail towards them, the pony sighing from the exertion, laden with supplies. Nara was perplexed by his question.

—Run where?

—We can’t stay here.

—To escape?

—Yes.

—How far do you think we’d get? They know these trails. They know every village from here to Pakistan. We wouldn’t stand a chance. Why do you think they haven’t bothered to guard us? Or tie us up?

—I’ve made difficult journeys before. But I won’t do it without you.

—I don’t know what you’ve done in the past. This is my country. You must listen to me. I am not afraid of dying. But what you suggest is impossible.

Before Leo could press his case, a group of mujahedin emerged from the caves. The tall figure of Fahad Mohammad was among them. He did not seem concerned that they were outside the cave.

—A jirga has convened.

A jirga was a council, a decision-making body composed of elders. Leo asked:

—You wish me to stand before it?

—The three of you will stand before it. Follow me.

Entering the depths of the cave network for the first time, Leo was impressed by the degree of sophistication in its development. Further inside there were timber steps, a drop of at least ten metres to an uneven passageway – a narrow man-made corridor, blasted with dynamite and supported with scaffolding. There were extensive munitions and food stocks in several uneven-sized stores on either side. At the end of the passageway there were further steps down, leading into a natural chamber, a giant dome, as if a massive air bubble had been trapped in the rock when the mountains were created. There was running water, a mountain stream. The air was cool and damp. There had to be a natural ventilation source for they were too deep ino the mountain for air from the entrance to offer enough circulation. The base was an ingenious fusion of the natural environment and the man-made, enabling this central chamber to be inhabited deep inside the mountain with a thousand metres of rock and snow above them as protection.

Leo counted six men. Like elders in a village, they wore no uniforms, with mismatched weapons by their sides, some with pistols so ancient it was hard to consider them anything other than symbols of war, others with rifles, all crouched in a typical stance, legs tucked under them, bodies hidden beneath thick pattu, blankets wrapped around them like seed pods. The lighting in the cave was electric so as not to foul the air with burning torches. A system of wires ran along the floor connecting batteries – it was a dim, bat-like existence, and Leo took a moment to adjust, before being able to observe their faces. He was presented first while Nara and Zabi were held back at the entrance of the domed chamber. The man in the middle of the council, apparently the leader, stood up:

—The khareji have spent three days bombing the valley and shooting at anyone who walks on the paths. They have sent many hundreds of soldiers to look for you. You are of value to them. Explain this.

Khareji was a name for a foreigner and was spoken with contempt. Leo couldn’t be sure why the Soviets had sent so many troops into the valley but considering the circumstances it made sense to emphasize his importance. He answered:

—I am not a soldier. I have never fired a weapon in this country. I am an adviser. I have lived in Afghanistan for many years, longer than any other adviser. I know more about Soviet interests in this country than anyone else. I have been writing reports for the Kremlin—

One man stopped him.

—What did you say in your reports?

—I advised on many different matters, including a recommendation that they should not invade this country.

—Your advice was ignored. You cannot be important.

—Some of my reports were listened to. Many were ignored.

There was hushed discussion among the council. Finally, the leader spoke again.

—It is as we thought. You will make a valuable hostage. Fahad Mohammad was correct to keep you alive.

He waved Leo aside and gestured at Zabi.

—It has been decided. A boy will pretend to be the only survivor from the village of Sokh Rot. The miracle of your survival is of use to us. We are informed that the story has become a powerful inspiration. You will be sent far away. A new home will be found for you. You will be kept safe from the Soviets.

He then gestured at Nara.

—Finally, we come to the woman. She is a traitor. She is worse than a khareji. She is an Afghan, but a slave of the occupation, a murderer. She will be executed. The sentence will be carried out immediately.