The Girl from Kandahar by James Ward

Author:James Ward
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Afghanistan, Islamism, Terrorism, War on Terror novels set in London, espionage novels set in London, espionage novels set partly in Britain, MI5 and MI6 spy novels, Spy thrillers set in the Afghanistan war about Islamism and the Taliban, Action and adventure
Publisher: Cool Millennium
Published: 2016-10-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22: The Same But From Camera Two

One hour earlier, Rizwan Masroor, Faisal Hussain, Lutfur Salique and Abdul-Aziz Al-Hazzaa sat on the sofa feeling dirty and depressed, while the two ISI men reclined in the sofas. The pipe bombs were complete now, and Masroor was still hoping they’d get to go home. He was less than ever convinced of the necessity of bombing kafirs and there were moments when he contemplated throwing the front door open and giving himself up to the police. He suspected the others felt the same. They were slowly going mad and there was no indication how much longer they’d have to wait. Even their little excursion into town the other day – exactly how long ago was it? - hadn’t improved matters. God, as if things weren’t bad enough, he was losing track of time too. It had underscored their predicament. They were prisoners.

And they probably weren’t the only ones. Idris Kakahel had warned them not to go into the largest of the three bedrooms upstairs, although he wouldn’t say why. He was so confident of being obeyed without question, he didn’t even feel the need to make up a reason. In a rare moment of shared privacy, Hussain said he thought they were keeping someone chained up in there. He heard movements in the night, and occasionally noises like someone whimpering.

Masroor was twenty-eight now. He was twenty-two when he’d been to Pakistan. In those days, he believed all that stuff about dying for the cause. It had been new to him then. Nowadays ... well, even a week ago, he thought he still did. Now he was sure he didn’t know.

When they arrived he’d tried asking if they’d let the four of them go once the bombs were made. That hadn’t worked. Well, the bombs were made now, and he had a question that might lead to a discussion that might lead to an opportunity to re-raise the issue.

“Can I just ask something?” he said, cutting the thick silence.

“Anything you like,” Haider Chamkanni said.

“If the police have got the house surrounded, presumably they think there’s only four of us in here. They’ll know when the bombers arrive, they’ll know when they leave, and the minute we leave, they’ll pile in. How are you two going to get out?”

Haider Chamkanni and Idris Kakahel grinned at each other.

“We’re going to get you out of here, brothers,” Haider Chamkanni said. “And don’t worry, the police won’t be able to pin a thing on you.”

Masroor felt a surge of gratitude so strong he wanted to cry. “How - ?”

“Magic, for a start,” Idris Kakahel said. “Have you ever seen the disappearing woman act? No? The magician comes on stage with a tall box which he plants on top of a platform. Twelve or thirteen workmen accompany him in overalls and make adjustments to the box. Then the woman gets into the box. The workmen leave the stage, the magician opens the box and – alakazam! – it’s empty. Everyone looks to the platform, obviously hollow.

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