Hindu Kush Mountain Range

Afghanistan–Pakistan Border - The Khyber Pass

1000 Metres above Sea Level - 180 Kilometres South-East of Kabul

30 Kilometres North-West of Peshawar - Next Day

They were to cross the border at night. Fahad Mohammad had volunteered to escort them to Pakistan, adamant that he should be the one to take them. His involvement surprised Leo. The hostility he’d showed towards them was intense – he made no secret of his hatred for them and appeared quite content to watch Nara die. He’d lost three brothers to Soviet operations in three days. Though he was unaware of the precise intimacy with which Leo and Nara were involved in the capture and death of his eldest brother in Kabul, Dost Mohammad, they were agents of a murderous infidel occupation and he hated them as deeply as the helicopter pilots who’d incinerated his village, killing women, children and the elderly. Despite this hatred, he’d put himself forward for the mission after the council of elders ruled in favour of Leo’s proposal. The council was divided: a slim majority believed American support could influence the future of the war, the others considered it an insult to ask for help. However, they abided by the vote and insisted upon sending one of their best soldiers, appropriate for a mission of this importance.

Fahad Mohammad would take them to the Pakistani city of Peshawar, where he’d discuss the intelligence proposal with their most important allies, the ISID, the Pakistani intelligence agency with whom they were working closely, receiving arms and devising strategy. If the Pakistanis agreed with the proposal, and their support was crucial, they would contact CIA operatives, none of whom this fiercely nationalistic faction of the mujahedin had ever met or had any dealings with. Forming a bridge to them through Leo’s defection might create a vital connection and the council was keen that their group of fighters be among the first to receive American support, should it ever arrive, appreciating the danger of a rival group being armed while they received nothing. Their eye was not merely on defeating the Soviets, which they believed was inevitable, they were also jockeying for power among themselves, playing a long game that stretched into the aftermath of the occupation’s collapse.

Once they reached Peshawar, Leo would make his case for defection. It would not be easy. As he understood the American position, there was strong domestic resistance to involvement in Afghanistan, particularly after Vietnam, a position exploited by the Soviets, aware that the American public would not tolerate another remote and expensive military campaign. President Carter had issued an ultimatum th would he United States would boycott the Moscow Olympics if Soviet troops didn’t pull out, setting a February deadline. When the deadline passed an official announcement confirmed that no American athletes would take part. Even this symbolic protest had been highly controversial, and if such a passive measure was questioned by the American public, it was hard to imagine them supporting military action. Afghanistan was remote geographically and its strategic importance remote conceptually. It was possible the CIA would show little interest in his defection, or that they’d consider accepting Leo far too politically provocative in the current atmosphere of tension. If the CIA failed to accept the offer, Fahad would surely kill them, a silent threat that hung over the mission. However, that problem was for another day. They were not in Peshawar yet.

To leave Afghanistan they were following the Silk Road, one of the world’s oldest trading routes, fought over for thousands of years. With mountains on either side impassable to any except the most experienced climbers, the Khyber Pass was a strategic gateway for armies, rogues, merchants and exiles. With a young girl among their number the pass was their only option, they could not brave the mountains. There were two roads, one for the traditional caravans and wagons, and another for trucks. Both were in the hands of the Soviet forces and the pass was heavily fortified with patrols and checkpoints. Fahad’s plan was to shadow the road, guiding them through the slopes on either side. In some places the landscape would pose no problem but in others the cliffs were precipitous. Their journey depended upon striking a balance between distance from the Soviet forces and the perils of the landscape. The further away from the pass the more treacherous the climb. The closer to the pass the more likely they would be discovered.

There was no moonlight, no stars – the night sky was obscured by a violent storm that had swept in unexpectedly, angry clouds twisted and coiled not far above them, moving at speed. Flashes of lightning were the only moments of brightness, like sparks from a flint failing to catch. The wind was cold and strong, opposing their journey, and they walked bent against its force. Progress was slow. Close to the Soviet positions, they had to make the journey by the cover of darkness. Attack helicopters had been circling the mountain paths during the day, firing bursts from their machine-guns at men on the trails. Fahad claimed that not since the early days of the invasion had he seen so many Soviet forces preoccupied with the border. Leo wondered if the helicopters were hunting for them. Captain Vashchenko might have guessed their intention. With such intense military pressure it was essential they make the crossing before daylight.

After several hours of walking and climbing, scrambling on their hands and knees, they were crossing a flat hilltop spotted with thin scrub. To the right the landscape dropped sharply, falling down to the Soviet-controlled road, and they could see the lights of troops. Fortunately the wind concealed any noise they made. But for fear of being seen they could not use a torch – even the flame of a match would be visible. Fahad was in front, seeming to sense the path instinctively, and they were entirely dependent on his knowledge of the terrain. Abruptly he stopped walking, looking up at the unsettled sky.

—The storm is getting worse.

Leo asked:

—Do we have enough time to reach shelter?

—There is no shelter until we’re inside Pakistan.

—Should we go bak?

Accustomed to the mujahedin’s stoicism, Leo expected the idea to be rebuffed immediately. Yet Fahad gave the idea serious thought:

—We have travelled too far. It is as difficult to go back as to go forward .

—Then we continue.

About to step forward, Leo felt a tug on his hand. It was Zabi. In the darkness he couldn’t see her, able only to hear her say:

—Listen.

He could hear the storm. Then, among the noise, was a mechanical sound – jet engines. Though it was pitch-black Leo stared up at the sky in the direction of the plane, hoping the lightning would illuminate the enemy. The edges of the Khyber Pass were an obvious bombing target: the terrain was always a likely concentration of weapons and narcotic smugglers, or in their case, political refugees.

—We should run!

Leo’s cry disappeared into the storm. There was nowhere for them to run to, no cover on the plateau. The sound of the engines grew louder. Leo crouched down, covering Zabi as the plane passed directly overhead.

The noise of the jet engines peaked and then dissolved, swallowed up by the storm. There were no bombs, no explosions. It must have been a transport plane. Relieved, Leo stood up, looking at the black sky. Lightning flashed through the clouds and he caught a split-second glimpse of hundreds of black specks, a snowstorm – flakes falling towards them. The light disappeared and in the darkness Leo remained staring, waiting for another flash. When it finally came, the snowflakes were only metres above them, revealing themselves not as snow but fist-sized objects twirling through the sky, spinning towards them. Fahad called out:

—Don’t move!

The first butterfly mine landed nearby, Leo didn’t see it but he heard it, a thud on the dust, then another and another, some close, some far away. They weren’t exploding, but resting on the surface and surrounding them. Lightning flashed and Leo saw a mine swerving in the sky directly above him, on course for his head. He took a step back, pushing Zabi with him as the mine passed in front of his face, almost brushing his nose, and settled directly on the ground in between his position and Fahad’s – at the exact point where he was about to step.

In a matter of seconds the entire plateau had been rendered impassable. They couldn’t go forward. They couldn’t go back.