As he walked out of the house, Wasim heard his wife crying again. Things were not going to be so good at home for a long time after Dr Sofia left.
Once outside the gate, the chief of police ignored Omar as he fumbled around in his pocket to retrieve his cigarettes, his second packet for the day. He took a deep, calming breath.
Ordinary people like Behnaz and Dr Sofia, or even a Western-educated man like Dr Jabril, didn’t understand how this world worked but he, Chief Wasim, did, and while it was not how he would have wanted things to be, he was a realist. There had been a time, though, when as a young policeman he had seen the world more simply, with enthusiasm for his job and love for his country, but inevitably, as time passed, he began to learn secrets. At first it had felt powerful to know these things, but in time the secrets you kept made you someone else’s property. Wasim took another drag on his cigarette. With all his heart he wished those secrets had not passed his way. With that useless thought he turned to Omar. ‘You must not tell anyone about the shabnamah.’ When he saw the look of fear on Omar’s face his heart sank. What had that fool Omar done now? Wasim could feel his ulcer playing up.
‘I think it might be a little bit late for that, Chief Wasim,’ Omar offered sheepishly. By the time he had finished telling Wasim about his efforts to find the mysterious ‘friend’ in the square, Wasim understood that the only people who should have known about his notes on their gate, Dr Sofia and Dr Jabril, were probably the only people who didn’t, while the rest of the square, and possibly half of Kabul, did. Disgusted, Wasim threw his cigarette down before walking over to the police tape. Lifting it, he walked under.
‘This didn’t have to happen, my friend,’ he said, as he stood over Jabril’s blood still drying on the cobblestones. ‘It didn’t have be this way. If only you’d listened.’
‘The woman was easy to take care of,’ Massoud had said to Wasim the previous evening after he’d reported his failure to convince Dr Jabril to withdraw the article and forget about funding a campaign. ‘Without a visa she’ll be gone soon enough. It’s Jabril who’s our real problem. The fool needs to be stopped.’
Massoud hadn’t been overly worried about Jabil’s idea of a campaign initially because he knew no one would want anything to do with it. It had only become an ‘irritant’, as Massoud called it, when Jabril wouldn’t let the subject drop, but when he heard that Jabril was intending to fund the campaign himself Massoud had become concerned. And then this article business. Wasim had never seen the man so angry. He had no idea how the minister knew about the article but he suspected Massoud had ‘friends’ at the newspaper, like he had ‘friends’ everywhere, like he had ‘friends’ among Wasim’s staff.
‘Give me more time,’ Wasim had pleaded with the minister. ‘I’m sure I can get him to change his mind.’
Like everyone else, Minister Massoud owned him. It was the secrets. Keep one secret and then you will keep another and then another and soon it was secrets within secrets until no one could remember where they began, but everyone knew where they ended. Wasim’s shoulders slumped. He’d failed his friend. If only he had been able to report back to Massoud that he had been able talk Dr Jabril out of publishing the article and forgetting about the campaign, none of this would have happened. And now he had no idea whether Massoud would turn on Sofia. The man was out of control.
Straightening up, he looked around the square. Nearly all the shops were closed already. He would have liked to go home too but he had work to do. He needed to respectfully suggest to the minister that one shooting was enough. He also had to make sure Dr Jabril’s friend withdrew the article, although he didn’t think that would be a problem after what had just happened. He also needed to speak with this Dr Daniel and convince him that Minister Massoud had not threatened Dr Jabril. And finally, he had to take possession of the three notes he’d written Jabril and the two in Behnaz’s possession, because if Massoud discovered he’d written them to warn his friends then his life was as good as over. Wasim sighed. Getting the notes wouldn’t be so hard. He’d just tell Behnaz and Zahra they were needed for evidence. If he could then perform a miracle and make sure the investigation went in the opposite direction to Minister Massoud and make sure Sofia was safe they might all survive this mess. All except Dr Jabril, he reminded himself, feeling the weight of guilt heavy on his heart.
43
SOFIA’S HEAD ACHED and her heart felt like it had been smashed into a thousand tiny pieces. Zahra had rung the night before to say Jabril was out of surgery and in a critical but stable condition. The bullet in his shoulder had shattered the joint and he would need further surgery. The one in the stomach had done the real damage and it was now a matter of wait and see.
In the morning Sofia rang Zahra, who was still at the hospital, to learn his condition had not changed. Zahra was being swamped with calls and was about to turn her phone off. She would ring Sofia if there was any change. Sofia then spoke to Chief Wasim. The shooter was not on any police database so
