Stephen Leather - True Colours

They crossed the border mid-morning but did not stop to rest until they had descended below the treeline and found shelter in an abandoned shepherd’s hut. Its roof had collapsed, leaving it open to the sky, but the stone walls broke the force of the wind. Tired from their long march, they were able to snatch a few hours’ sleep. They moved on again that afternoon, heading steadily south-eastwards through the barren landscape, the brief greening of the slopes at the approach of spring having long given way to a brown, parched wilderness.

After dark that night they approached the money house. It was a tall building in a fold in the hills, surrounded by a collection of ruined outbuildings and a pile of rubble where another one had collapsed. There were a few other occupied farms and houses in the area, but all were at least half a mile away. They did not approach the house at once, but lay up among the trees, observing the guards. There were two of them that they could see, huddled near the doorway, blowing on their hands to warm them from time to time. There was a glow of lamplight from the building and Khan could smell woodsmoke from the fire burning inside.

They watched the house for half an hour, then moved quietly towards it. Piruz waited until they were within twenty yards of the guards, then called out, ‘ Salaam alaikum . Do not be alarmed, we are friends and followers of Mullah Omar.’

The guards jumped up and pointed their AK-47s at Khan and Piruz. ‘You lazy dogs!’ shouted Piruz. ‘Be grateful we are not enemies, for if we were, you would surely be dead. I am Piruz, do you not recognise me?’

The guards bowed and apologised. One of them knocked on the door. A few moments later Khan heard the bolts being drawn and a face peered out. They identified themselves once more and Khan, Piruz and Ghulam were ushered inside. There were a dozen men in the house. Khan recognised two of them as low-ranking Taliban fighters but the others were different.

They sat together, their lips moving silently as they studied their Qurans. Five were Arabs and the other five did not look like Afghans to Khan either, but more like the Chechens, Uzbeks and other jihadis who had flocked to Afghanistan to fight the Soviets years before. Khan was sure they were al-Qaeda warriors.

Through a doorway, Khan glimpsed a stockpile of weapons and ammunition and sacking-wrapped bales that could only have been opium.

Khan spoke to the Taliban fighters. He had to find a reason to get away from the others to silence the HOTB, but he also needed a convincing excuse for remaining outside the house during the night. The laxity of the guards at the door had provided him with one. ‘We’ve brought more American dollars for the cause,’ he said, gesturing towards the sacks they had carried. ‘But my daughter could guard this place better than your men. We walked in here tonight virtually undetected. If we can do it, so can faranji soldiers. You need a better guard system, especially at night. I’m going to go outside and find a place from where I can watch the building and the approaches to it.’

‘Good idea, brother,’ Piruz said. ‘We will help you.’

The last thing that Khan wanted was to have Piruz outside with him, but he had no choice other than to smile and accept his offer. He went outside with Ghulam. Piruz and Piruz’s comrade followed them. They moved around the money house in a gradually expanding circle, exploring the outbuildings and seeking out dips and hollows where they could be concealed and yet able to observe the terrain around them. They eventually chose two sites for guard posts, with a view of each other, the money house and the tracks leading to it. ‘There are four of us,’ Khan said. ‘Shall two watch and two rest, turn and turn about?’

Piruz gave him a suspicious look. ‘No, we will all watch together,’ he said.

‘As you wish, brother,’ Khan said. ‘But will you first keep watch for me while I empty my bowels?’

Without waiting for an answer, he moved away towards the trees. He knew that his fellow Muslims were both fastidious and prudish about bodily functions; even if he had been under guard, they would not have felt comfortable about following him. He slid the HOTB from his ammunition belt, dropped his trousers and squatted down, then blew a farting sound on the back of his hand, using it to cover the noise as he crushed the HOTB under a rock. Unseen high in the night skies overhead, the AWACs would already be relaying back to Joshua the exact coordinates of the place where the HOTB had been silenced and within minutes surveillance drones would be converging on it.

He stood up, poured some of his drinking water into his left hand and washed himself with it in case Piruz was watching him, and then walked back to the others. He glanced at the sky. The attack would not come that night, he was sure, for the first faint glow of dawn was already beginning to colour the eastern horizon, but he was fairly certain that it would happen the following night and he had to be ready for it. Joshua had been reluctant to reveal details of what he had planned, but Khan was sure that the attack would come sooner rather than later.

An hour after daybreak, they abandoned their posts and returned to the house. The other Taliban fighters left at once to rejoin Fahad, leaving the al-Qaeda men to mount guard during the daylight hours. Khan curled up on the floor near the embers of the fire, but he slept fitfully, plagued by thoughts when he was awake and troubled by dreams when he at last fell asleep.

He got up just after midday and at once went outside. He stood in the full sunlight, gazing up at the sky. He knew that drones would be overhead by now and if Joshua had needed any confirmation that they were watching the right place, the sight of Khan’s upturned face and the unmistakable milk-white pupil of his left eye would provide it. Piruz emerged a few moments later and gave him a suspicious look, but Khan merely smiled and nodded.

At sunset that evening they again left the building and mounted guard. Khan and Ghulam stationed themselves in the dip just beyond the pile of rubble. Khan lay full length on the ground while Ghulam took a place half a pace behind him. Piruz and the other fighter took up their positions in dead ground where they could see the opposite side of the house.

It was a bitter night, with frost sparkling on the ground. Even men as hardened to the mountains as Khan and Ghulam felt the cold seeping into their bones as they lay in wait.

At just before ten that night, Khan thought he heard the drumbeat sound of helicopter rotors in the distance, but it was snatched away again on the breeze and, though he strained his ears, he heard no more. Half an hour later there was movement on the periphery of his vision near a copse of tall trees. It was a ripple in the darkness, sensed as much as seen. Khan eased off the safety catch of his rifle and slid it forward, sighting not on the area where he had seen the movement, but towards Piruz.

Twice Khan tensed as small groups of dark figures moved down the track towards the money house, but on each occasion they were recognised by the guards at the door and admitted to the house. After remaining inside for perhaps an hour, they left again carrying bundles that might have contained dollars, opium or weapons and ammunition.

A lone figure, perhaps one of the al-Qaeda fighters, left the house shortly afterwards and disappeared up the track towards the mountains, but after that there was only silence, and the lamp inside the building was extinguished before midnight.

Nothing and nobody moved for another hour, but then Khan heard a faint noise, like the rustle of fabric. He strained his eyes into the darkness but saw nothing until two dark shapes suddenly materialised out of the night, no more than twenty yards from him. They carried a ladder between them, holding their rifles in the other hand.