Tom Smith - Agent 6

– Ask Fahad Mohammad. He saw me attack my superior officer with a knife. I wounded him. I am already a traitor.

– That could be a trick.

– To what end? Ask the man who saw what happened if he thinks my actions were trickery.

The council turned to Fahad Mohammad.

– What do you think?

– If it is a trick, I do not understand it.

A careful reply, but not an endorsement, and Leo needed to work harder to convince his audience.

– I will do what I promise. I will defect. Tell me what you think of my proposal.

– It interests us.

Leo pressed his case.

– You need American support. You need their weapons, new guns, not the ancient rifles that can’t fire straight. Not the rusty pistols you carry on your belts. You need missiles. You need a way of damaging the helicopters and jets.

The elder nodded, musing on the idea.

– How would you achieve this? The Americans will not trust you.

– Take us across the border, into Pakistan. I know that you are receiving support from the Pakistani secret police. They must have contacts within the CIA.

– They might.

– Then you have the means to contact the CIA. You can use the Pakistanis to set up a meeting.

– And then what? How can we trust the word of a traitor?

– You don’t have to trust me. The CIA would not protect me unless I was valuable to them. I will tell them everything, or they will turn me loose.

The elder asked:

– What is it you want in return?

– Nara Mir and the girl would come with me.

The suggestion caused outrage. Before they could argue, Leo continued:

– My suggestion offends your sense of what is right and wrong. Yet I know that your decision will be pragmatic. Many of you abhor drugs, yet you trade them for weapons. You abhor the notion of American support to defeat your enemies, yet you know without their support this war will be far harder to win. Not only will my defection to the United States be a psychological blow to the Soviet Union, a propaganda coup for you, I will tell the United States what they need to hear. This is their only opportunity to fight without sending a single soldier. They can cause great problems for the Soviet Union while appearing to be neutral. Would they believe you if you said the same thing? They know you want money and weapons. Would they believe me? I want nothing.

– Everyone wants something. And you want her. Foreigners come here and collect our women, that is how it works, is it not? You wish her as your wife?

– My wife is dead.

– Then you wish to take another? You want her?

– She is my friend.

– A friend?

The council laughed at this.

– We all need friends.

The leader stopped laughing, sinking into serious consideration.

– We will vote.

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.