took place, then a second. On December 25, the Soviet army moved south at a number of different points over the twelve-hundred-mile border with Afghanistan. It invaded Afghanistan’s territory. This was actually the start of the Afghan War, although it took some time for that information to radiate around the country. That same day, you participated in a third transaction. In the days leading up to the war, a few different mujahideen organizations had hosted your master. On December 27, Soviet special forces attacked the Tajbeg Presidential Palace in Kabul. The Afghan president was killed. The USSR immediately established a puppet government. It installed a new leader to replace the old one. On the afternoon of December 29, Kabul fell. Antigovernment forces had been laying their own plans since before the USSR began its “direct intervention,” and the Soviet occupation gave them, in effect, the go sign. At the same time, Guitar, you watched as your master entered into negotiations with a powerful commandant from a mujahideen group, a member of the Ghilzai tribe—also part of the Pashtun confederacy. That was a very busy day. The commandant kept getting calls on his radio. In the end, he and your master decided to arrange another meeting in a remote region even further west in the FATA, almost on the border with Afghanistan. There were four opium purification factories there, disguised as ordinary brick houses, belonging to the commandant. And so the next evening, that’s where you were. Your mother too. And your master—your alter ego. The Samoan had some business to take care of and hadn’t come. He had gone to a smuggling base near Peshawar the day before and would be joining up with you again the next day.
So the Hellhound, your master and alter ego, had no bodyguard.
And so it happened.
Go on, you tell it.
ME?
Sure.
I SAW IT.
You saw it?
I SAW IT. I SAW MY MOTHER DIE. SAW THAT VILLAGE ON THE BORDER BECOME THE PLACE WHERE MY MOTHER DIED. I SAW IT.
What did you see first?
A…CAR.
That’s right. It was a truck, actually, with a canvas tarp. It arrived that evening in the village near the western border of the FATA. That evening—the evening of December 30, 1979. The word TOYOTA was printed on the back. Not that you could read it.
I COULDN’T READ IT. BUT I HATED IT.
You hated the Toyota?
YES.
As well you should have. Because, Guitar, the man who would shoot your mother was soon to emerge from it. At first, everyone assumed it was just another transport truck. They thought it was one of theirs. As a matter of fact, the truck itself was being used by the commandant of the mujahideen organization your master was currently negotiating with. It was supposed to be full of freshly harvested poppy fruit and hashish. The commandant wanted to show your master, the Hellhound, what they could produce. You were going to be part of that scene too. You would smell the raw materials, then accompany them to the factory, where you would smell the finished products…
I NEVER GOT TO DO ANYTHING.
No, you didn’t.
PEOPLE JUMPED OUT OF THE TRUCK. THEY HAD GUNS.
Soviet-made guns. Kalashnikovs. About a dozen men leapt out of the canvas-covered back of the truck, each one carrying a Kalashnikov. They were Pashtuns, but they weren’t from this area. Neither were they part of the organization the commandant ran, with this village as one of his bases. They were Pashtuns in the Afghan army, obeying top-secret orders from the new government—a government that was, of course, no more than a Soviet puppet. The USSR believed it was essential to maintain stability in Afghanistan, now that it had taken control, and that meant thoroughly clamping down on the movements of all antigovernment forces. It meant crushing the mujahideen. Crushing the jihad. They had a list. Twenty-three leading figures in four organizations were named. The third from the top was the commandant. The list included his true name and seven aliases.
SO THAT WAS IT?
That was it.
THAT’S WHY THEY CAME?
That’s why they came. And they came quickly. They had been ordered to execute their man before the new year. Ordered by the new government—by those who stood behind the new government. These Pashtuns, members of the Afghan government’s army, had formed an assassination squad, and then, on the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, they had seized that Toyota you hated. And now here they were, in the village.
I SAW THEM. THEY HAD GUNS.
That’s right. And whom were they aiming them at? The commandant, standing