Pineapple fragmentation grenades would be good, and a couple of AK-47s. A launcher and some RPGs would also be useful.
You re going to war, then?
A few of those grenades dropped from on high can have a salutary effect.
I can imagine. I ll see you later when the others get in. After Sergeant Hamid drops me, I ll send him back. He speaks English, and he s a good man. Maybe he can help you with that engine, and he can certainly kick Wali Hussein up the backside if he needs it.
He went out through the Judas, and Slay turned to notice that Hussein had mounted the steel steps and was going up to the office. He went after him, found the door open and Hussein leaning across the desk.
There was a line of cocaine lying ready, a bag of the stuff beside it, the white powder round his mouth and nose when he turned to look at Slay. There was also an open bottle of Cossack vodka, a half-filled glass beside it.
Slay picked it up. They wouldn t be very pleased about this down at the mosque. The toilet door was ajar; he walked in and emptied the bottle down the bowl.
You bastard. Hussein lunged at him.
Slay slapped him backhanded twice, then picked up the bag of cocaine. Let s just flush it away.
Hussein s face was contorted, and he was close to tears.
No, don t do that, he pleaded.
Then let s play question-and-answer. This place Amira it s Taliban, isn t it? Don t tell me you don t know. The colonel seems to think you deal in guns with them.
You don t go to them unless they send for you, and they ve never sent for me from Amira. Most of the people only speak Pashtu, and I can t. Blame my Yank mother. The rest speak very little English. I only know it by reputation. It s a bad place.
No word of anyone special being there?
No! Wali Hussein cried. And if I start asking round the bazaar, they d be at my door within the hour, wanting to know what was going on. Get one thing straight, pal. He was suddenly all-American. These Taliban bastards make the Mafia look like a Sunday-school outing. They think they ve got God on their side when they cut your throat.
And what about Al Qaeda?
Wali Hussein laughed wearily. So what can I say? It s in the police force, it s in government, it s in the schools, and the Taliban are the foot soldiers. They probably know about you now, but if they don t, they soon will. I d go back to where you came from, I really would.
There was the sound of the jeep down below. Slay said, That will be Sergeant Hamid, arriving to give me a hand. He tossed the bag of cocaine to Hussein. I notice a convenient bunk back there. I d go to bed, if I were you, and stay out of his way.
Hussein retreated, and Slay went down the steps, taking off his flying jacket as Hamid got out of the jeep and came to join him with a bag in one hand. He had opened the hangar doors to get in, and it was raining outside.
Not good flying weather, Slay said.
The forecast is bad for the next few days, sahib. Hamid held up the bag. Tea and coffee, various things to eat and keep us going. He put the bag on the bench. So what do we do first?
We need the engine cowling off, Slay told him.
So let s get started.
It was seven o clock in the morning when the Gulfstream landed at Peshawar International, the normally impressive background of the mountains of the northwest frontier shrouded in heavy rain.
Colonel Hamza was standing under a canopy, a Burberry trench coat hanging from his shoulders, a van beside him, and another of his sergeants wearing a yellow slicker. A couple of porters ran forward with large umbrellas as Ferguson led the way down the steps.
My goodness, Colonel, the rains seem to have come early this year. It s good to see you.
I ll take you along to the Rangoon and help you settle in, Hamza said. You re just in time for breakfast.
Lacey called from the Gulfstream. We ve got to sort out a few things with the plane, sir. We ll be in touch later.
The rest of them piled into the van. As it drove away, Ferguson asked, Where s Captain Slay? I thought he d be here.
He and one of my sergeants have been working all night. I called on them a short while ago with weaponry he wanted, including a machine gun for mounting in the Raptor. He told me the engine was now ready.
And this Wali Hussein chap?
Knows where he stands, as far as I m concerned. I don t know whether he ll be much good to you.
Well, I must say Gregory Slay has come up trumps in my book, Ferguson said. I look forward to meeting him.
Slay and Hamid showered in the staff quarters at the back of the hangar. It had been a hard night, but it had been worth it, Slay told himself as he got dressed. There had been plenty that had needed taking care of. He was so pleased that he actually felt full of energy as he stood looking at the old Raptor, and Hamid had hosed it down to finish things off.
She looks good, sahib?
You were a great help, Slay told him.
Wali Hussein came down the steps and paused, gazing in awe at the helicopter. My God, what have you done?
A complete overhaul, which is what was required. You look a mess, so go and stand under a shower for half an hour. That s an order. We may need your brain working.
The van swung into the hangar and braked to a halt. Colonel Hamza got out of the front, Ferguson leading Miller and Dillon out of the back, followed by Holley and Sara.
They all stood staring at the helicopter, the muzzle of the machine gun poking out of the side door, which had been rolled back, Slay and Hamid standing beside it.
Dillon said, I thought it was supposed to be some kind of wreck.
Well, it looks pretty damn good to me, Sara said.
And to me. Ferguson held out his hand. Captain Slay? I can only congratulate you on a job well done. If it flies as well as it looks, our problems are over.
Oh, I think she might surprise you, General, Slay told him. She s surprised me already.
That s good to hear, so let s all sit down, talk things over, and discuss our next move.
The rear of the hangar was still the departure hall from the old days of the airport, with chairs and tables in profusion, toilets that still worked, and kitchen facilities. They put some tables together, and Sergeant Hamid went to make coffee and tea while the plan of action was considered.
It could all be very simple, Ferguson said.
Ali Selim is in Amira and waiting, probably contacting his people in London to try and find out what s gone wrong. No news from his niece or Jemal, no big bang at Westminster.
The important thing is who s waiting with him in Amira, Slay said.
He went and got into the Raptor, and Hamza, who had noticed Wali Hussein hanging around on the fringe of things, said, Here s a man who must have a point of view. He owns three of these Raptors and does a brisk business running guns and drugs to the Taliban.
Slay leaned out the door of the Raptor, one hand on the machine gun. You re wasting your time. He s half American and can t even speak Pashtu.
It s true, Wali Hussein said. Just leave me out of it, and he turned, moved away to the back, and disappeared into the kitchen area.
Ferguson and Miller had their heads together with Dillon and Hamza, and Holley approached Sara. Are you all right?
I was impressed with what Slay had to say. I could do with another cup of coffee. Let s see what Hamid s got going in the kitchen.
There was no sign of him, only a pot bubbling on the electric stove. She switched it off and was suddenly
