I stood between two trucks. 'There's a crossroads. On the far side there's a high wall with razor wire, maybe an embassy. I might be at the start of the diplomatic area.'
'Yes, Mr Nick. What is in the middle of road? Concrete, maybe?'
The road had a central reservation of scabby bushes. 'Bushes, mate. Not concrete. To the right I can see the lights on TV Hill.'
'Go left, Mr Nick. Left and you will come to the Gandamack.'
I jumped the junction and headed left, hugging the wall. Headlights caught me in their glare but there was fuck-all I could do about it.
'Go up the road, Mr Nick. Walk more. You see computer shop, maybe?'
'Yes.'
The little fucker was spot-on.
'The Gandamack is on this road, on same side as computer shop.'
There were shouts from behind me. I spun round to see cowpats, maybe five or six of the fuckers, running my way.
'I'll call you later.'
I closed down as I legged it, and within a few strides I could make out the shapes of guard huts sticking out from the line of buildings.
The cowpats were gaining on me but I was getting closer to the huts.
Bodies spilled out to investigate the commotion. They couldn't have been sure what the fuck was coming at them out of the dark.
A couple had their weapons up. Another two were already checking their safety catches.
I held up my hands as I ran. 'It's OK, it's OK! Gandamack!
My hands stayed up. I got to within about fifteen metres of them. 'The Gandamack! Where's the Gandamack?'
One pointed down a dark gap that loomed on my left. I couldn't tell if the building behind had been bombed or was being repaired, but these guys had to be guarding something.
Their weapons lowered. I checked behind. The cowpats weren't that brave.
My hands dropped to my knees as I fought for breath. 'No need to shoot me. I won't complain about the food, honest.' I held out my hand and they shook.
I picked my way over rubble and bricks. Plastic buckets full of the stuff sat waiting to be moved.
There was a pedestrian door to the right of the gates. Set into it was a sliding peephole.
I gave the gate a couple of punches. The steel rattled. The slide was pulled back and a set of dark brown Afghan eyes wanted to know what the fuck I wanted.
53
I gave him a big smile as the door swung open and I got a big row of brown teeth back. He was dressed for winter warfare in a thick black polo-neck jumper beneath an even thicker stripy tank top. Me, I was wiping sweat off my face. On the floor of his plywood gatehouse were a bedroll, bottled-gas burner, kettle, teapot and glasses. He was set for the night.
A dozen or so dusty 4x4s were jammed against each other in the courtyard. The house was large, with additions all over the place. I followed the gravel path across a patch of garden to a set of concrete steps that led up to the glass-fronted entrance.
The first thing I saw in the hallway as I stepped inside was a long rack of old Martini-Henry rifles, probably relics from the last time we tried to control the area and got fucked off big-time. The Khyber Pass to Pakistan wasn't that far away.
The reception desk wasn't manned. A card told me the name Gandamack had come from the fictional home of Harry Flashman, the nineteenth-century answer to James Bond. It was also the name of the village that had seen the slaughter of about sixteen thousand British troops by the Afghans in 1842. I wondered if some of the gear in the racks had seen action there.
I wandered into the eating area. The tables were laid for dinner later tonight, with starched white cloths and china. All the breakfast stuff – jars of marmalade, jam, honey and Marmite – were stacked ready on a side-table, just like in a B and B. The walls were decorated with hunting and fishing prints. Stuffed parrots flew around in a glass-fronted cabinet. The only thing to remind you that you weren't in an old Surrey inn was the neatly stencilled sign on the door: Only side-arms allowed in the restaurant.
I looked through the open windows and on to the grass. Two big, muscular guys had squeezed into a couple of wicker chairs under the external lighting. They sat with their tree-trunk legs splayed apart. With their dark skin