‘Does that mean they will inspect us?’ The note of alarm in Akmed’s voice is unmistakable.
‘Yes,’ Naveed replies, watching his cousin closely. ‘I expect so.’
‘But I thought your friend would let us through. Surely he knows you wouldn’t be carrying a bomb.’
Suddenly Naveed has an idea. Like a chink of light at the end of a dark tunnel, he sees a chance to get his family and Mr Omaid away from Akmed. He peers ahead and can just see Mr Jake at the entry control point.
‘You’re right,’ he says. ‘Good thinking, Akmed. I’ll send Madar and Anoosheh up to the main gate. Mr Jake is expecting them. He’ll then call us through in the truck.’
Before Akmed can reply, Naveed scrambles over the side of the truck, and pulls open the passenger’s door.
‘Come along, you two,’ he calls to his mother and sister. ‘We could be stuck here forever. Mr Jake is keen to get you in for those tests, Noosh, and it will be much faster if you walk up to him.’
Mr Omaid is already at Naveed’s side. ‘Good idea,’ he says, helping Anoosheh and her mother down from the cabin.
‘Hurry up,’ Naveed adds, handing Anoosheh her crutches. He walks a little way with them, until they’re out of Akmed’s earshot. Then he turns to his sister. ‘I want you to give Mr Jake a message. Tell him that Nasera has found something big, very big. Is that clear?’
Anoosheh frowns. ‘Is something the m—’
‘No time for questions. The doctor will be waiting to start on your legs.’ Naveed stares into her eyes. ‘Just do as I ask: make sure you give Mr Jake my message.’
Anoosheh nods and heads off with her mother. Naveed watches them go, wishing he could hug and hold them close, but knowing better. His mother would sense his anxiety and instantly become suspicious.
‘We should get through now,’ he calls to Akmed as he walks back to the truck. His cousin is watching him closely. ‘Anoosheh will work her magic on the foreigners to get us into the base.’ He laughs but feels sick with worry.
Mr Omaid has the bonnet of the truck up, checking the engine’s oil and water. Naveed joins him and presses close.
‘Do this for me now,’ he whispers. ‘I beg of you. Tell the driver in front to move, and the one behind. Then you must also get as far away from here as possible.’
Mr Omaid’s face drops. ‘What . . .? God forbid! Don’t tell me your cousin—’
‘Please!’ Naveed hisses. ‘Any delay could be fatal.’
‘But what of you, my boy?’
‘I will go to Akmed. With God’s help I will change his mind.’
‘Don’t be crazy. You mustn’t—’
‘No, Mr Omaid.’ Naveed holds up his hands. ‘I must. My cousin has no one else. I cannot leave him alone.’
He turns and walks away, uttering a quick prayer under his breath as he climbs onto the back of the truck.
‘What’s the matter?’ Akmed demands, nodding at the open bonnet. ‘We’re not broken down, I hope.’
‘Not at all, cousin. Mr Omaid just needs a little water for the engine. He’s going to see if any of the other drivers have some.’ Naveed peers ahead. ‘Aha, Noosh and Madar have nearly reached Mr Jake. We should be on our way soon.’
Naveed is struggling with his emotions, a whole mix of them churning inside him. He kneels down and pats Nasera, hoping that might give him time to think. She nudges into him with a soft whining noise, as if sensing his anguish. He pulls her close and hugs her hard, aware that he may never do this again.
For a moment he loses himself in that simple act, to the point where everything else becomes unimportant. A strange calm folds around him like a bubble of peace. That’s when he hears the voice.
‘Say no to violence.’
He knows exactly who it is, Malalai Farzana. He’s heard her say those words before. She never gives up calling on Afghans to unite in peace. At first Naveed thinks the voice is only in his head – that he’s hearing things. But then he realises it is coming from a radio.
‘Say no to vengeance and hatred.’
A radio somewhere, almost certainly in one of the jingle trucks. She is faint, and Naveed has to listen hard to hear her. But as he does so, he is struck by a simple truth. He’s not the only one listening to Malalai. Another Afghan is, a truck driver somewhere. And there would be others, too, elsewhere, all over the country – truck drivers, shopkeepers, doctors, teachers, farmers, men, women and children. There must be Afghans everywhere listening to this call for peace. Listening and hoping.
‘Seek better ways to solve differences – through talking, not fighting; with words, not weapons.’
‘What’s going on?’
Naveed is shaken from his thoughts by Akmed’s angry voice. He looks up and at once sees the blind hate burning in his cousin’s eyes. But then he sees more – fear, confusion, maybe even a cry for help – and realises that whatever else his cousin might be, in essence he’s just a frightened young man who has lost his way.
‘The truck behind us is moving away. And the one in front. What’s happening?’
Akmed’s voice is shrill with suspicion, but Naveed doesn’t let that worry him. He feels a quiet strength deep inside himself. Malalai Farzana has given that to him. With her words fixed in his mind he slowly stands.
‘They’re probably sick of waiting,’ he replies.
But the trucks leave in a hurry, their tyres screeching. One of the drivers glares out his window at them as he passes.
‘They seem to be in a big rush,’ Akmed snaps. ‘Maybe Mr Omaid said something to them.’
‘What do you mean?’ Naveed laughs. ‘What would he say to them, Akmed?’
He glances towards the entry control point, relieved to see that his mother and sister are being bustled away. But Akmed sees this, too, and, like Naveed, also sees that Jake is talking to an officer, both glancing in the direction of the cousins. Almost immediately a stream of soldiers fan out, deploying themselves behind blast blocks and Hesco bags. Some already have their guns aimed in the truck’s direction. A turtleback Humvee pulls out of the entry control area and begins creeping towards them.
‘Stop pretending,’ Akmed says. ‘You know exactly what Mr Omaid said to them.’
Naveed can feel Akmed’s glare on him. He faces his cousin squarely, and nods. ‘Yes, I do know. I had to stop you going ahead with this madness.’
‘That won’t stop me,’ Akmed shouts, pulling a mobile phone from his coat pocket. ‘I only have to press a button, any button.’
Naveed watches as his cousin’s finger hovers over the phone, shaking perilously close to it. ‘Why are you doing this, Akmed?’
‘For Allah, of course. To make the foreign devils pay for their blasphemy, and any Afghan traitors who would support them.’
‘But this won’t hurt any foreigners, Akmed. Look, they’re all safe. It won’t even hurt your Afghan traitors, except for me. Apart from that, you’ll only blow up Mr Omaid’s truck and put a big hole in the ground.’
Akmed shakes his head, not wanting to listen.
‘It won’t serve any purpose,’ Naveed continues. ‘It won’t be jihad. It will only be one sad young man killing himself and a cousin who was stupid enough to stay by his side because he cares. You’ll also break the hearts of two other people who care for you and love you as well, my sister and mother. Don’t for a minute think that Allah will give you a place in Paradise for this. Yours will be just one more wasted life in this futile war. Is that really what you want, Akmed?’
‘Ha, very smart of you, cousin. But I have no choice now. Look at the Americans, they have their guns aimed, ready to kill me. And if by some miracle they do not, I will be a prisoner, locked up in Parwan forever.’
‘They will not kill you, Akmed, but it is true, they will take you in. And they will interrogate you, yes. But I don’t think it will be nearly as bad as you believe if you surrender to them. And whatever happens, cousin, you will not be alone. I promise that I and my mother and sister w
ill stand by you.’
‘And I also promise.’
Akmed and Naveed jump, and turn around to find Mr Omaid standing behind them.
‘Not only that,’ he continues. ‘If you hand over the phone now, I will promise you a job and place to live if you want them when you do come out of Parwan Prison. My business has been doing well and I plan to buy a second truck. So I will need a driver. What do you say?’
Akmed is completely lost for words.
So is Naveed. All he can do is gape at Mr Omaid, who would never have been his idea of a hero. And yet here he is risking his life to offer not just compassion but understanding and real support. And he’s not asking anything in return. He’s giving.
‘Well, young man?’ Mr Omaid holds out his hand to Akmed for the mobile phone. ‘Do we have a deal?’
Akmed stares down at the device in his hand.
Naveed holds his breath as the world seems to come to a halt. Mr Omaid gazes steadily at Akmed, his arm outstretched motionless before him.
Akmed’s eyes are locked on the phone; the shaking of his hand is the only thing that disturbs the air around them. Then, very slowly, he blinks.
Without taking his eyes off the phone, Akmed passes it to Mr Omaid.
As soon as he does so, Naveed steps forward and embraces his cousin. Mr Omaid holds up the phone for the soldiers to see, and a loud cheer erupts from the entry control point.
Jake clambers onto a concrete blast block so that Naveed can see him, and punches the air in a victory salute.
Chapter 34
An hour later the crisis is over and Akmed has been taken away, but Naveed’s mind is still churning.
He sits on the running board of Mr Omaid’s truck, his head in his hands, still tense as can be. It is partly a kind of delayed reaction from the stress of dealing with his cousin. Yet it is also more. He’s annoyed with himself for not having asked a question of Akmed before they took him away. But then he’s fairly sure he knows the answer.
‘Well done.’ Jake appears and sits beside Naveed, slapping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. ‘You’re a hero, mate. Kabul is sending a TV crew to interview you and Mr Omaid. You’ll be famous.’
Naveed looks up, not really having heard what Jake said. ‘I should have talk Akmed before soldiers take him,’ he says.
‘Hey, don’t worry about Akmed. They’ll be fair with him. You need to relax now. It’s all over.’
‘No, Mr Jake. Is not all over. It just start.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think I know where Akmed get bomb. He not work alone.’
‘Are you sure?’
Naveed nods. ‘Yes. And sure there is more bomb. Lot more. We must go now.’
Jake leaps up and sends an urgent call straight through to Unit Command.
‘Request GAF for urgent off-base mission.’
Within twenty minutes the ground assault force Jake requested arrives in the warehouse district where Naveed lives. Four turtlebacks take up tactical positions, isolating the streets and buildings in the area. All exits are sealed off and the troops move in.
‘I hope your hunch is right,’ Jake says as he and Naveed step out of their Humvee with Stingray and Nasera on leashes. There is a worried expression in his eyes, but he grins at Naveed and gives him the thumbs up. ‘Lead on, mate.’
They head straight to the top of the lane that goes to Naveed’s house. There they wait for a moment. A reconnaissance squad has gone ahead to make sure all is clear and has taken up its position outside Mr Kalin’s warehouse. As soon as the A-OK is given, Jake and Naveed set off down the lane to join the squad. Naveed clenches his fists as they walk, his heart thumping loudly.
‘Please, Allah, I know I am right in this,’ he whispers. ‘But we might need some help.’
When they reach the reconnaissance squad and turn into the parking bay, Naveed gulps. Two vehicles are outside the warehouse. He immediately recognises them. One is Mr Kalin’s, the other belongs to Salar Khan, the drug lord. Both men appear at the door of the warehouse. Salar Khan mutters something and quickly steps back into the warehouse. Mr Kalin walks over to the soldiers.
‘What’s all this about?’ he demands, his words translated to the commanding officer by an interpreter. ‘What’s going on?’
‘We have reason to believe that explosives may be stored in this warehouse,’ the officer replies.
‘Explosives? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a respectable merchant. I have a position in this community. How can you think I would—’
‘We have reliable information, that’s all I can say,’ the officer adds.
Mr Kalin glares at Naveed. ‘You mean the boy? Ha. He’s nothing but a liar. You can’t take his word against mine.’
‘I’m sorry but we are going to search your warehouse. If you choose to resist we will have no alternative but to use force. Is that understood?’
Mr Kalin bristles with anger. ‘You are the one who will be sorry. Let me make it very clear that when you find nothing – and believe me, you will find nothing – I will take this to the very top and your head will be the first to roll.’
‘That’s a risk I’ll have to take,’ the commanding officer replies, and motions to his men. ‘We do this by the book, guys. Handle everything with care. No rough stuff, no breakages.’
As soon as the soldiers file into the warehouse they gape at the task ahead of them. The area undercover is vast, perhaps two acres, all of it packed to the limit with goods and stores. Bags of grain are piled right up to the high ceiling; containers of tinned and dried food stacked upon each other in long rows that disappear into the dark depths of the warehouse. Timber and steel and other building materials are loaded precariously on pallets, along with bags of cement and lime, as well as tins of paint and drums of chemicals.
‘Where the hell do you start?’ the commanding officer groans. He looks around, scratching his head. ‘Do your best, guys,’ he says eventually, sending the men off. The soldiers fan out through the warehouse.
Progress is slow and tedious, made doubly difficult by the extreme narrowness of the aisles. In their bulky gear the soldiers can only just fit down most of the passageways. In some cases they can’t even turn around, and are forced to back out.
The search is no easier for Jake and Naveed. The warehouse is swirling with all sorts of smells – chemicals of every type, paints, herbicides, detergents, diesel and oil, along with grains and other foodstuffs. This heady mix overloads the dogs’ sense of smell, making it very difficult for them to focus. Stingray is completely confused and has already lost interest, but Nasera is still trying. Naveed is sure that given time she will grow used to the many smells and be able to do her job properly. But time is quickly evaporating.
And then the commanding officer’s order comes for all the troops to cease operations.
‘Hear that?’ Jake yells to Naveed. The two of them are searching in aisles parallel to each other. ‘They’re calling off the search.’
‘No, Mr Jake. Not stop now. I sure we close.’
‘Sorry, but orders are orders. We have to obey them.’
Reluctantly Naveed turns Nasera around and joins Jake. They walk back to meet up with the rest of the squad near the front of the warehouse. Mr Kalin is talking to the commanding officer, a smirk on his face. He stands in front of a huge pile of agricultural chemicals in containers stacked high on pallets.
‘What did I tell you?’ he says to the commanding officer through the interpreter. ‘But I am a fair man. I know you are only doing your job. So I will not press charges, provided you leave now.’ He glares at Naveed. ‘You will not be so fortunate!’
Naveed flares up. ‘I know what I saw that night,’ he shouts, stepping towards Mr Kalin, Nasera straining at the end of her leash. ‘I know you’re hiding—’
‘Are you crazy?’ Mr Kalin shouts. ‘Keep that dog away from me!’
‘Stop!’ the commanding officer yells at Naveed. ‘Restrain your dog at once.’
<
br /> But Nasera breaks free and leaps forward, knocking Mr Kalin to the ground.
‘Komak! Help!’ he screams, shielding himself from the dog.
Several soldiers hurry to his assistance, but there is no need. Nasera is not interested in Mr Kalin. She has her snout pressed hard at the base of a pallet, sniffing frantically and trying to dig under it.
‘Look at her!’ Naveed shouts.
Jake immediately lets Stingray go. The kelpie runs straight to Nasera’s side and begins sniffing and scratching as well.
‘I think we might be onto something,’ he says to the commanding officer. ‘I’d love to see what’s under those pallets.’
The dogs are pulled back and a forklift is brought in, despite Mr Kalin’s protests. The pallets are then shifted one by one. It’s a slow process for there are many of them, but eventually the area is cleared to reveal a cement floor covered by a light layer of dirt. Naveed’s heart sinks.
‘See,’ Mr Kalin snaps. ‘Solid cement.’ He turns on the commanding officer, his face flushed with anger. ‘Now you will leave!’ he says, pointing to the door. ‘Go!’
‘Not so fast,’ Jake calls. He grabs a broom and sweeps back some of the dirt. A fine line is just visible in the cement. More dirt is swept away. ‘This looks like a trapdoor to me.’
The commanding officer steps closer and studies the cement floor, then motions for Jake to continue. When the area is swept properly two soldiers lever the trapdoor open.
The commanding officer shines his torch down into the hole. ‘My God,’ he gasps, as the beam illuminates a vast underground cavern filled with weapons and explosives, more than enough to supply a small army. ‘Look what we’ve just found.’
‘And look what we found.’
There’s a scuffle at the entrance to the warehouse. Two more soldiers appear with Salar Khan handcuffed between them.
‘We caught him trying to escape down a back lane. We thought he might be part of the problem.’
Naveed laughs. ‘You bloody right,’ he adds in English. ‘He biggest part of problem.’
Naveed Page 13
