perch leaned against one wall, casting a long shadow.

They eyed our group with deep suspicion, and I was

glad to move into the cooler shadows of the first shack,

where the water man sat on a thick carpet and sipped

tea, along with a much younger man, who suddenly shot

to his feet as we entered.

Shilmani gestured that we take seats on the crimson-

colored toshak.

“We’ll have some tea first,” said Burki.

“Thank you,” I said, settling down on the cushion

and making sure the soles of my feet were not showing.

I muttered for Treehorn to do likewise and to remove

his sunglasses.

Shilmani poured us cups of tea, which we quickly

accepted.

The young man stood in the corner, just watching us.

CO MB AT O P S

195

His beard was short, his eyes fiery. If he had a weapon,

I’d say he wanted to use it on us, but thus far he appeared

unarmed.

“How is the new well coming? I haven’t had time to

go out there.”

Burki’s English wasn’t very good. Shilmani translated,

and Burki said, “Oh, good, good, good. A lot of water!”

“He sounds happy,” I said to Shilmani.

“He is. Even with the Taliban cutting into our prof-

its, we’ll still have a very good year. The solar-powered

pump is a brilliant idea.”

“Not mine,” I said.

“But great nonetheless.”

“How are your wife and children?” I asked.

“Very well,” he answered. “Perhaps some time you

could join us again for dinner. My children have a lot of

questions about America.”

“I’ll try to answer them.”

Shilmani grinned, then leered up at the young man

in the corner.

“Who is he?”

“Just the bodyguard.”

“He wants to kill me,” I said.

“Me, too,” Shilmani said with a smile. “I hate him.”

Burki leaned forward and gave me a long appraising

stare. “I want you to kill Zahed,” he said slowly.

I drew back my head and looked at Shilmani, who

simply nodded.

“What’s going on now?” I asked.

196 GH OS T RE CON

Shilmani spoke quickly, “We had a deal with Zahed

for the water coming out of the new well, but he has

chosen to break that deal and increase his demands. So

we have chosen to kill him—and we will hire you to do

the job.”

“Okay,” I said matter-of-factly.

Treehorn looked at me: Are you nuts?

I winked at him. Then faced Burki and made the

money sign. “How much will you pay me?”

He looked at Shilmani and spoke rapidly, and I could

only ferret out every third word.

“He says we’ll pay you with information rather than

money.”

“Tell him I said that’s very clever and I appreciate this

offer. I will kill Zahed. How can he help me?”

Shilmani and Burki spoke again, then Shilmani said,

“We will set up a meeting for you and Zahed. He will

think you are one of the opium smugglers I told him

about. You will come with us. And when the door closes,

you will put a bullet in his head.”

“Okay.”

“Captain, I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”

I looked at Treehorn. “Thanks. No other opinions

needed.” I faced Burki. “How soon can we meet with

Zahed?”

“Soon.”

I turned to Shilmani. “Ask him about our captured

man. Does he know where our guy is being held?”

After a moment of conversation, Shilmani turned to

CO MB AT O P S

197

me and shook his head. “No idea. But Zahed would want

to question him himself, so probably in Sangsar.”

“Ask him what he thinks the best-protected place is in

that town.”

Shilmani did. Both men laughed. Shilmani turned to

me. “He says the police station. The jail. But it is prob-

ably too obvious.”

We had dozens of maps and intelligence on Sangsar,

but sometimes that intel did not indicate the function of

some buildings unless streaming satellite video of the

comings and goings of the inhabitants made it obvious—

or if there was, of course, a sign on the building.

I drew an imaginary rectangle across the carpet and

said, “Can you tell me in what part of the town we would

find that building?”

Shilmani already knew. He pointed directly in the mid-

dle of the rectangle. I sighed. Of course—as deep into the

town as you could get.

“So if I kill Zahed, your boss gets to keep all of the

profits.”

“That’s what he thinks, but you and I know better.”

“We do?”

“There’s always another man to take over for Zahed.”

“Yes, there is. Do you know who that might be?”

“I have a cousin who works as a courier for Zahed.”

“You do? Why did you wait to tell me?”

“To protect him. And my family.”

“I see.”

“I will get more information from him.”

198 GH OS T RE CON

I finished my tea and smiled at Burki. “I really appre-

ciate this help.”

He raised a brow. “Okay, okay.” He made a gun with

his fingers. “You kill Zahed.

As we drove back through the town, we took a side street

that ran parallel to the bazaar. A few kids on old bicycles

were racing along the street and pointing as they passed

the alleys. A huge crowd had gathered along the shops

and stalls, and I could see people throwing things into

the center square. Were those rocks? I couldn’t quite tell.

“What’s going on?” I asked Shilmani.

“Nothing. Never mind. We have to keep going.”

“No way,” I said. “Pull over.”

“Please, Scott. You don’t want to go there.”

“Why not?”

“Because you won’t understand.”

“You heard me. Stop this car.”

Shilmani took a deep breath. “You have to promise

that if I stop, you will not interfere.”

“What are you talking about?”

He pulled over, threw the car in park. “You’ll see.”

NINETEEN

Harruck had never mentioned this issue to me, and I

later found out that he’d known all along and had simply

been hiding it. The news was simply another of the bur-

dens he’d carried on his shoulders, and it made me

understand—at least a bit more—why his stress level was

constantly in the red zone.

I ran down the alley and reached the back of the crowd.

Treehorn and Shilmani were just behind me.

There, in the middle of the road, was a brown sack,

but when I got closer, I realized that a person was cov-

ered in that sack and buried up to the shoulders. The

person was struggling, so I had to assume the hands were

tied behind the back.

“Boss, is that what I think it is?” cried Treehorn.

200 GH OS T RE CON

“Aw, jeez.” I gasped.

A circle had been drawn in the road around the vic-

tim, and no one stepped inside that circle. From the

periphery, they threw their stones, occasionally hitting

the person in the head. Each time a stone made direct

contact, the crowd roared.

“I did not want you to see this,” said Shilmani. “And