'You must have used the eypad to type information. Now they're probably tracking you to our base. Who are they?'
Nanda did not answer.
Sharab strode toward the woman and slapped her with a hard backhand across the ear.
'Who is behind this?' the woman screamed.
'The SFF? The military? The world needs to know that we did not do this!'
Nanda refused to say anything.
'Do you have any idea what you've done?' Sharab said, stepping back.
'I do,' the Kashmiri woman said at last.
'I stopped your people from committing genocide.'
'Genocide?'
'Against the Hindu population in Kashmir and the rest of India,' Nanda said.
'For years we've listened to the promise of extermination on television, shouted outside the mosques.'
'You've been listening to the radicals, to Fundamentalist denes who shout extremist views,' Sharab insisted.
'All we wanted was freedom for the Muslims in Kashmir.'
'By killing--'
'We are at war!' Sharab declared.
'But we only strike military or police targets.' She held up the cell phone and tapped the top with a finger.
'Do you want to talk about extermination? This is a remote sensor, isn't it? We put you close to the site and you used it to trigger explosives left by your partners.'
'What I did was an act of love to protect the rest of my people,' Nanda replied.
'It was an act of betrayal,' Sharab replied.
'They moved freely because they knew we would not hurt them. You abused that trust.'
Sharab's people took part in these acts primarily in the Middle East where they used their bodies as living bombs.
The difference was that Nanda's people had not chosen to make this sacrifice. Nanda and her partners had decided that for them.
But morality and blame did not matter to Sharab right now. Nanda did not have the experience to have originated this plan. Whoever was behind this was coming and doubtedly they would be well armed. Sharab did not want to be here when they arrived.
She turned to Ishaq. The youngest member of the team was standing beside the cartons eating his goat meat and rice.
His lips were pale from the cold and his face was leathery from the pounding the wind had given it during his motorcycle journey. But his soulful eyes were alert, expectant, Sharab tried not to think about what she was about to tell him. But it had to be done.
She handed Ishaq the cell phone.
'I need you to stay here with this,' she told him.
The young man stopped chewing.
'You heard what is happening,' Sharab went on.
'We're leaving but her accomplices must think we're still here.'
Ishaq put down the tin and took the phone. The other men stopped moving behind them.
'It's very heavy,' Ishaq said softly.
'You're right. I think they've added things.' He regarded Sharab.
'You don't want the Indians to leave here, is that correct?'
'That is correct,' Sharab replied quietly. Her voice caught.
She continued to look into Ishaq's eyes.
'Then they won't leave,' he promised her.
'But you had better.'
'Thank you,' Sharab replied.
The woman turned to help the other men, not because they needed help but because she did not want Ishaq to see her weep. She wanted him to hold on to the image of her being strong. He would need that in order to get through this. Yet the tears came. They had been together every day for two years, both in Pakistan and in Kashmir. He was devoted to her and to the cause. But he did not have the climbing or survival skills the other men had. Without them they would not get across the mountains and the line of control and back to Pakistan.
The remaining members of the team pulled on the heavy coats they kept for extended stays in the cave. They threw automatic weapons over their right shoulders and ropes over their left. They put flashlights and matches in their pockets.
