Noticing that the two heavily-armed security guards had turned their attention to their stationary vehicle, she asked Tawfiq to wait for her in the little parking area near the entrance. ‘I’ll be right back.’
As Sofia walked towards the Serena’s entrance a handsome man in formal Afghan dress with an old-fashioned curled moustache and pointy clipped beard was opening the door, beckoning her into a haven of softly piped muzak and the gentle hum of purified air.
18
AS HE SAT waiting for Sofia, Tawfiq thought about this idea of rewriting history and decided that on his way home that night he would stop in at his local internet café and look it up.
What are you thinking? Do you want to die?
He sank his head back onto the steering wheel. How could he have forgotten so quickly?
The previous evening Ahmad had told Tawfiq about the shabnamah pinned to Omar’s door. His friend had been sure it was meant for him because he had not been going to mosque and wanted to know who Tawfiq thought the Talib in the square might be. But Tawfiq knew that the Taliban couldn’t have cared less if Ahmad was missing morning mosque. It was more likely that they would be interested in what he had been doing on the internet late at night.
Even though he had been very careful to delete his browsing history before leaving the café, he knew nothing was ever truly private and now it was possible that the Taliban had found him. Apart from the crippling embarrassment and shame, Tawfiq had spent the previous night worrying about how he was going to let the Taliban know he had stopped until he realised that he didn’t have to. If they knew what he was doing they would know that he had stopped. He would have liked to have told Ahmad that it didn’t matter. The Taliban didn’t have to be in the square; they could be in America, or England, or even Russia.
Yesterday had not been a good day. Not only did he have the worry of the Talib but now Dr Jabril had instructed him not to let Dr Sofia out of his sight when they left the square, and he’d just let her walk away. Tawfiq turned around in his seat to see if Dr Sofia was coming out again only to discover she had not gone in and was still talking to the doorman. Just as he was considering getting out of the car to join her, she disappeared behind its doors.
He would have to clarify his instructions with Dr Jabril further.
* * *
‘CAN MY DRIVER wait over there?’ Sofia asked the impressive doorman who was holding the door open for her. He looked to where she was pointing. ‘Please,’ Sofia said, offering him a smile while trying to scan the lobby behind him for any sign of Daniel. ‘I’ll only be a second. My friend’s waiting for me in the lobby.’ Sofia was pretty sure the doorman had seen her scanning and hadn’t been fooled by her lie.
‘Okay, but only three minutes,’ he said, looking displeased with his decision.
She thanked him and hurried into the hotel, thinking that with such lax security there was sure to be another attack on the Serena.
Feeling the fizz of anticipation at seeing Daniel again, she was moving past the luggage trollies on her way to the reception desk when she saw him coming around the corner with a breathtakingly beautiful African woman on his arm and, like a junkie, her emotions came crashing down.
On seeing Sofia, Daniel quickly extricated his arm and waved while the woman turned to look at her, until her phone rang and she waved him on with a wrist heavy with silver bracelets.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said on reaching Sofia, bringing with him a whiff of some exotic perfume. ‘Am I late?’
‘No, not at all. She’s very beautiful,’ Sofia said, nodding toward the woman who was talking on her phone, watching them.
He looked over as if he’d never seen her before. ‘Clementine’s an old friend. We were having breakfast and I’m afraid we lost track of time.’
Sofia looked back at Clementine and decided, on reflection, that she wasn’t so much beautiful as striking. Standing over six feet tall and dressed in traditional African clothes, she was making heads turn.
‘Clem’s a doctor with MSF,’ he offered. ‘She’s the one who told me about your work with the midwives. She’s also been here for the last six months, so coming to Kabul had an added attraction.’
‘I can definitely appreciate the added attraction.’
Clementine finished the call and was gliding across the floor to envelop them in a cloud of the perfume Daniel had brought with him.
‘Clementine Ntuyahaga,’ he said, making introductions, ‘I’d like you to meet Sofia Raso.’
‘Dr Raso,’ Clementine said, taking Sofia’s hand. ‘I know it’s a cliché but I’ve heard only good things about you, and not just from Daniel, who now seems to have joined your long queue of admirers.’
‘Is that right?’ Sofia said, looking up at Daniel.
‘It is,’ smiled Clementine, ‘and we have another mutual friend. Taban.’
That’s interesting, Sofia thought, making a mental note to ask Taban about Clementine.
‘She told me about your work with her in the slums, plus my MSF colleagues in Kandahar had mentioned your work with the midwives there. So your name came at me from two sources I trust, and now I find Daniel, whose opinion I respect above all others, is also singing your praises.’
Sofia ignored the comment about Daniel singing her praises. She was more interested in the MSF colleagues in Kandahar. ‘How did your colleagues know about my work with the midwives there?’ Sofia was aware she wasn’t being particularly
