Zia Rahman - In the Light of What We Know

Was an envelope delivered today? I interjected.

You mean for Crane?

I do.

No.

The jeep didn’t come?

No.

Are you sure you didn’t miss it?

It didn’t come — or it hasn’t come yet. It’s two hours overdue.

That’s unusual, right?

Right.

And Crane?

He’s not been here.

Tell me something. Does the jeep come from the same direction?

I don’t know where it comes from.

Does it come from the east or the west? When it stops outside the gate, which way does it point?

It points in the direction away from Suaif’s sentry box.

Always?

Always.

And Crane’s car?

Land Cruiser.

Where does he park?

By the gate.

Right outside?

A little farther on.

Even farther away from the sentry box?

Yes.

Always?

Yes.

Pointing away from Suaif’s sentry box?

Yes.

Always?

Yes.

Good.

Why do you always ask this question? You did it last time also.

What question?

Always?

Always what?

Why do you always ask always ?

I’m trying to figure out what can we rely on.

I see, he said.

But Suleiman didn’t look like he’d understood.

Epistemology without whisky is like a fish without a bicycle, I added.

Excuse me?

Is Maurice here?

You mean right now?

I nodded.

He’s out but he’ll be back later this afternoon.

Good. Where’s the driver?

Mr. Maurice’s driver, he’s with Mr. Maurice.

But I saw a car in the courtyard?

AfDARI has three.

Is there anyone else who drives?

There’s another driver.

He’s here?

Yes.

Good.

Suleiman listened carefully as I explained how we would get him a few minutes to see and, if possible, photograph the documents in the next delivery for Crane. Suleiman had mentioned that sometimes the men in the jeep handed him the parcel but only when they saw that Crane was already there at AfDARI. The plan involved getting the men to see Crane but preventing Crane from seeing the jeep, and then counting on the men handing the documents to Suleiman. The gate was central to all this, and Suleiman would have to get a driver to move toward it at a critical moment in order to force the jeep to move aside and out of view of Crane. If the jeep moved forward, however, the driver would still be able to see Crane side on, provided I managed to get Crane to come with me to the guesthouse. Crane, however, wouldn’t be able to see them without turning around. Timing was everything.

When I finished, so as to confirm we were on the same page, I had Suleiman explain everything back to me.

* * *

I waited for Crane on the veranda outside the AfDARI office. The plan might not work if Maurice arrived before Crane; it wouldn’t work if Crane arrived at the same time as the jeep; in fact, there were umpteen ways it wouldn’t work and only one way it would. I looked at my watch before opening the copy of Graham Greene’s The Quiet American I had brought with me and settled in for the wait.

Fourteen minutes later, Crane’s voice— Let me in, old man! — came booming across the courtyard over the sound of traffic behind him. The gate gave out a screech as it was opened and shut.

From the steps of the veranda, I beckoned Crane to come over.

Hello, big Z. How are you? Crane looked genuinely pleased to see me.

Just fine. And you?

His handshake nearly ripped my arm off.

Spiffing. Isn’t that what you Brits say? Hey, Sully buddy!

Crane gave Suleiman a thumping pat on the back.

Do you think we could get some tea? I asked Suleiman, who’d appeared on cue.

And, turning to Crane, Unless you want a beer?

You guys have beer ? Crane asked Suleiman.

We don’t, replied Suleiman.

Forgive my faux pas, I said to Suleiman. Tea’s fine.

Suleiman left.

We Brits, I added for Crane, are known to drink a cup of tea from time to time.

There’s that British humor again. You guys kill me.

Crane, there’s a rather serious matter I need to discuss with you.

Oh, yes?

Why don’t we sit down? I suggested.

Tell me what you know about Bagram, I said to him.

Why? What are you hearing?

I’m supposed to meet up with the UN rapporteur in a couple of days, and I still haven’t got any word from them about when I can visit.

What I didn’t tell Crane was that since the last time I was in Kabul I hadn’t made any further effort to contact them. I needed to keep Crane waiting.

There’s nothing to tell — I mean as far as I know. Sure, there’s some kind of detention facility, but that’s about all I’ve heard. That’s an open secret, he said.

I probed Crane for a few minutes before Suleiman reappeared.

We’ve run out of tea. I’m just going to buy some, okay?

Fine, I said.

I understood that the jeep had just come, a little too soon after Crane’s arrival, and that Suleiman was improvising a sign for me to get Crane to the guesthouse, since there would not be time now for even a sip before the next stage. A few moments later, the AfDARI car in the courtyard fired up and the gate let out its shrill sound.

Crane, let’s go to the guesthouse, I said, motioning my head in the direction of the door to the office as if to suggest the veranda wasn’t private enough. An unplanned bonus: Crane will assume Maurice is here, and that he would take delivery of the letter.

I hear you, said Crane.

I glanced toward the gate. I was counting on not being able to see the jeep from the steps of the veranda. The AfDARI car was waiting as the gate opened. Suleiman did not appear to be in it. The jeep must have reversed to let the car pass and, in so doing, had moved out of view behind the wall. I had to keep Crane from looking that way but make sure anyone in the jeep could see him from the back.

I’ve been talking to Colonel Mushtaq.

It’s strange: I can remember that Crane didn’t react right away. Some part of me must have registered that. I realized only later that the delay ought to have puzzled me. At the time, my focus was on keeping his attention away from the gate.

Sikander Ali Mushtaq, I said. Do you know him?

I know of him, of course.

Of course?

He’s high up in military intelligence. Have to do your homework in a place like this, buddy.

What kind of place would that be? I asked.

We were nearing the guesthouse.

Goddamn war zone, he replied.

After you, I said, making sure to stop on the side of him away from the road so that as he looked at me he would not see the jeep. I saw the door of the sentry box open. Suleiman would be going to collect the envelope.

Inside my room, I walked over to the door at the back, taking out a packet of cigarettes.

Do you smoke, Crane?

That stuff’ll kill you.

When in a war zone, I said. Mind if I do?

Go ahead.

Let’s go out back. I sleep in here and don’t like the smoke, I said, opening the back door.

We stepped outside and I pulled the door shut.

Crane was squeezed between me and the dead black tree. He moved around the bush to where there was more space. I stepped nearer to the wall. If Crane moved too far over, he might catch a glimpse of the jeep. I needed him closer to the wall and to me. Lowering my voice, I said: Mushtaq had something interesting to say.

Excuse me? replied Crane, obligingly moving closer to me, closer to the wall, well away from the line of sight to the jeep.

Mushtaq seems to think you’re up to something and asked me if I’d find out.

And what did you say?

So you are up to something.

We’re all up to something, Zafar. Everybody here is up to something. I could ask you the same question. Why are you here? Why not wait until the UN rapporteur gets here, why not come here with him and then go to Bagram? You know they’ll let you all in then.