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Ben cringed. Miss Messenger standing up for him would only add fuel to the fire. Sure enough, Ed continued leering at him, though he didn’t say anything else. Ben was glad when they reached the minibus and he could dump the two bags on the ground.

The guy waiting for them held his arms out. ‘Welcome, everybody,’ he boomed. ‘Welcome. Welcome!’ Ben heard Ed snigger, but the man obviously didn’t. ‘Great to see you. Good flight? Hot today. Still, you’ll have to get used to it. I’m Carl, by the way. I’ll be taking you to Kampur. Not far, but it could take a while. Bad roads—’

Bel interrupted him by holding out her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Carl,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m Bel. This is Ben.’

‘Of course, of course, pleased to meet you.’ And as he spoke he was surrounded by the three teachers, who all shook his hand in turn. ‘Everyone’s looking forward to seeing you all,’ Carl announced, ‘and hearing all about life in England. Our charity doesn’t get many people willing to come out this way, to be honest. Plenty of people happy to sponsor children, but not to actually come out here. And awareness is everything, wouldn’t you say? Shall we, ah…’

He opened the doors of the minibus and there was a moment of bustling. Miss Messenger and the other teachers — Mr Sawyer and Mr Knight — started organizing everyone, bellowing instructions about where the boys should go and where everyone should sit. Ed’s voice rose above the hubbub — he didn’t want to sit by a teacher — but most people seemed to ignore him. Miss Messenger approached Ben and Bel, a kind, concerned look on her face. ‘Why don’t the two of you sit in the front with Carl?’ she said. ‘If you want to, that is, Ben.’

‘All right,’ Ben said, quiet but secretly grateful. Miss Messenger obviously knew how worried he was about his mum.

The seats were scorching hot. Bel sat in the middle and Ben by the passenger window. It took a couple of goes for Carl to start the engine, but they were soon off, driving out of the car park and onto a busy main road. Behind them, everyone was chatting excitedly, but up front they sat in silence.

They passed cars, motorbikes and the occasional rickshaw. There were fruit stalls along the side of the road, and children playing. There were also, Ben couldn’t help noticing, a lot of policemen armed with rifles.

The air was hot, dry and dusty and he was already sweating. He rolled the window down, but it didn’t make much difference.

‘Busy around the city,’ Carl explained in a loud voice. When it was clear that nobody in the back was listening to him, he continued to address only Ben and Bel. ‘But it’ll quieten down as we head west.’ As he drove, he grabbed a clipboard that was resting on the dashboard. ‘Ben…’ he murmured, one eye on the clipboard and one on the road. ‘Ben Tracey?’

‘That’s right,’ Bel answered for him. Ben hated it when she did that.

‘We’ve put you with a lovely family. Just three of them — mother, father and daughter. Quite western in the way they live their lives.’ He smiled. ‘Shouldn’t be too much of a culture shock for you.’

Ben thought of telling him that shocks were the one thing he was used to, but he didn’t. They drove in silence.

‘Been to Pakistan before, Ben?’ Carl ventured after a while. ‘Know much about it?’

‘A bit,’ Ben murmured, but before he could say any more, Carl was gabbling away again.

‘Beautiful country. Beautiful. But poor, in places. You shouldn’t expect luxuries where you’re going, Ben. The people there live hand to mouth. Good people, Ben. Good people. A few rotten apples, but you get the same anywhere, don’t you.’ As he spoke, he cast a sidelong glance at Ben. ‘You’re staying with a lovely family, Ben. A lovely family. They don’t have much, but are happy to share what they have. And they’re looking forward to seeing you, Ben. Really looking forward to seeing you.’

They passed a bus. It was multicoloured and packed as tightly as a tin of sardines. Then more policemen, four or five of them on a street corner, all armed. Ben couldn’t help staring at them.

‘You’re aware of the security situation in this part of the world, I suppose.’ Carl looked in the rear-view mirror as he spoke.

Bel shot him a quick look. ‘We’ve been led to understand that Kampur is relatively peaceful.’

‘Oh, of course,’ Carl said quickly. ‘Of course, of course. Lovely people. Lovely people. Ignore the rumours.’

‘What rumours?’ Ben demanded.

‘Nothing. Nothing. But you know how people will talk. Village gossip, nothing more.’

What rumours?

‘Nothing. Really, nothing. This is going to be a great experience for you, Ben. A grand experience.’

Ben didn’t feel particularly reassured and Carl seemed to sense that. ‘Honestly,’ he said, ‘it’s true that there are other places in the region — to the north and south and closer to the Afghan border — where I would not recommend you to go. But Kampur is a safe place. Safe as houses. We wouldn’t let a group of school kids stay there otherwise — can you imagine the sort of publicity the charity would get if something went wrong?’ He smiled — a broad, almost cheeky grin. ‘And after all, it’s not exactly Helmand Province.’

Ben felt a twisting in his stomach. He looked at his mum, but Bel was staring firmly at the road ahead. Carl seemed to realize he’d said something wrong. He opened his mouth, thought better of it and clamped it shut again.

They continued to drive on in silence.

Chapter Two

SAS Headquarters, Hereford, UK.

There were four of them in the unit. Ricki was the leader, but Toby, Matt and Jack were equally skilled. They had all been in the SAS for five years and they worked together like cogs in a watch, each man practically knowing what the other was thinking.

They sat in the briefing room. No windows, no pictures on the wall. Just an overhead projector beaming a map of southern Afghanistan onto a whiteboard and the ops sergeant standing next to it, giving them their instructions. He was a tall, thin man with hollow cheeks and a scar across his forehead. He didn’t look like someone you’d want to mess with; but then again, nor did any of them.

‘Here’s your schedule,’ he announced. ‘Leave here tomorrow at oh-six-hundred hours. Regular green army flight from Brize Norton to Kandahar, arrival twelvehundred hours. Overnight at Kandahar, then on to Camp Bastion the following morning. You’ll be inserted into the town of Sangin by Chinook under cover of dark.’

He turned to the map and pointed out Sangin. It lay right on the Helmand River in the northern part of Helmand Province. He didn’t really need to point it out to the unit. They’d been on ops in this part of the world so many times that they knew the geography well.

‘Good old Sangin,’ Ricki said. ‘Sometimes I think I should buy a house there. It seems to be where I spend all my time.’

‘Last time I looked,’ Matt rumbled, ‘all the houses had been flattened. I’d stick with Hereford if I were you.’

‘Yeah,’ Ricki replied with a wink. ‘Good point.’

‘All right,’ the ops sergeant interrupted their banter, ‘listen up. As you know, we’ve got intelligence guys on the ground in Helmand. They’re all reporting the same thing. The Taliban in the area are preparing something big. It could be anything. All we know is it’s hush-hush. They won’t refer to it on their radio transmissions, and the low-level Taliban recruits we’ve managed to capture know nothing about it. Whatever it is, the commanders are keeping it to themselves.’