His outburst seemed to echo around the cabin.
He and Latifa stared at each other and something seemed to crackle between them. Will heard himself breathing heavily, trying to calm himself with great gulps of air.
Finally Latifa spoke. 'I am sorry for the death of your family,' she said, meekly. 'When I was young I saw my mother and father murdered in front of me. I know something of how you feel. Faisal too, he saw — '
'Forget the excuses,' Will snapped. 'Do you know where your brother is or not?'
Latifa stared at him, but her lips remained firmly shut.
'Fine,' Will retorted to her meaningful silence. 'In case you're interested, it's not just the British government who want to find your brother. It's the CIA too and they're not exactly well known for being shy and retiring about stuff like this. Trust me — you won't like the way they get people to tell them the things they want to know. But it's your choice.'
'You are right,' Latifa said, firmly. 'It is my own choice. Your family meant everything to you, I can see that. So perhaps you will understand why it is that I cannot betray my brother, no matter what it is that he has done.'
Will felt his lips thinning.
'You have come a long way to rescue me,' Latifa said,'and for that I am more grateful than I can tell you. But you have seen what the Taliban did to me; you have seen the wicked things they inflicted upon my body. Now you, too, are threatening to try and extract the same information out of me. It makes you no better than them.'
She winced, as though a sudden bolt of pain had run through her and Will noticed that she shifted her bandaged feet. She breathed heavily for a moment before speaking again.
'And what is it, I wonder,' she asked, her voice a curious mixture of bemusement and contempt, 'that makes you think that if the Taliban cannot torture Faisal's whereabouts out of me, with their viciousness and their lack of regard for human life or suffering, the British or the Americans can?'
Will looked at her face. Despite her weakness, despite her fever, despite everything that she had gone through, it carried an expression of indomitable determination. In that instant, he knew that the Afghan woman lying before him was not messing around.
No matter what he had done, she would sooner die than betray her brother. Faisal Ahmed could kill thousands — millions — and still she would keep her own counsel.
If she knew where he was, she would never, ever tell them.
'I think I would like to sleep now,' she whispered; and as she spoke, her eyes closed.
Will stood there for a minute, not knowing what to do or what to say. Then he kicked his heels around, found a sleeping tablet and swallowed it hungrily.
It was a long flight back to Brize Norton and the last thing he wanted was to be awake with the thoughts that were now swimming around in his confused and angry head.
TWELVE
Will awoke suddenly.
His body was aching, but his mind was instantly aware. There was a change in the sound of the engines, a more high-pitched whine that suggested they were losing altitude. He looked around him. Latifa was asleep, but Drew and Kennedy had woken and were looking out of the window.
'Something's up,' Kennedy said.
'What do you mean?'
'Look at the time.'
Will glanced at his watch. Three in the morning, Afghanistan time. They should have landed at Brize Norton hours ago.
'Care to tell us what's going on?' Drew asked Will, pointedly.
'Fucked if I know,' Will muttered. He turned around and headed up to the flight deck, where he banged on the door of the cockpit. 'What's going on?' he shouted. 'Where the hell are we?'
The door clicked open and the flight lieutenant of the plane appeared. 'Change of course,' he told Will.
'What the hell do you mean?' Will asked him, completely confused.
'We got our orders a few hours ago. We've been redirected.'
'Where to?'
'Poland.'
Will blinked. 'Poland? What the hell are we doing in Poland?'
'We were hoping you could tell us,' the flight lieutenant said, pointedly. 'I think it's more likely something to do with your cargo than ours, don't you?'
Will swore under his breath, then strode back to be with the others.
'Any info?' Kennedy asked, tersely.
Will told them the news and both SAS men looked baffled. 'What are we doing landing in Poland?' Drew asked.
'I don't know,' Will replied, quietly, but in truth he had an idea. He remembered his conversation with Lowther Pankhurst and Don Priestley, about how they had extracted the information about Faisal Ahmed in the first place. He glanced over at Latifa, still slumbering.
Sleep well, he thought to himself. It won't last for long.
They strapped themselves in and prepared for landing.
As soon as the aircraft came to a halt, Will was up. A flight of steps had been moved to the side of the plane and he bounded down them into the icy night air. The snow here was thicker than it had been in the Stan and it was blowing a blizzard — the plane had been lucky to land at all. The airfield was not busy, but there were a couple of other planes parked up and a small convoy of military trucks were waiting on the tarmac. Grim-faced soldiers, all heavily armed, were milling around; and standing by one of the trucks was a solitary figure. He wore a heavy black coat and held a black umbrella, though it didn't do much good as the snow was drifting sideways against his clothes. He looked quite out of place against all the military men in their camouflage fatigues.
It was only when Will was a good deal closer that he realised who it was.
'Good morning, Will,' Lowther Pankhurst said, as blandly as if he were greeting someone in the office on a Monday morning. He turned to a couple of soldiers standing nearby. 'Get the woman down,' he ordered.
'Yes, sir,' the soldiers repeated in unison. Will detected their American accents.
'What the hell's going on?' he asked Pankhurst, angrily. 'What are you doing here? What are any of us doing here?'
'Please, Will,' Pankhurst said, mildly. 'Calm down.'
'Don't tell me to calm down!' he raged. 'I've just been through hell to get this woman. I want to know what you're doing with her. Why weren't we warned about this?'
'We're going to ask her a few questions. That was always the plan, wasn't it?'
'In Poland?'
'Yes, Will. In Poland.'
'Why?'
'I think you know why, Will.'
Pankhurst was right. In the last thirty seconds he had confirmed all his suspicions. 'Black camp?' he asked.
Pankhurst's face twitched slightly. 'Really, Will, it's not a term I'm particularly comfortable with. But yes, there are certain resources available to us here that are not available to us back home. It's one of Don Priestley's little operations and he's kindly given us access. It really is amazing how skilful they are here.'
Will felt sick. Despite everything he knew about Latifa Ahmed, he had seen what the Taliban had done to her. He had seen what she had gone through. Talk about out of the frying pan and into the fucking fire.
'You're wasting your time,' he told Pankhurst, quietly.
'I beg your pardon?'
'I said you're wasting your time.'
'I sincerely hope not, Will,' Pankhurst said, pointedly. 'I understand you're one man down. It would be a terrible tragedy if nothing came of your mission.'
'You're lucky we're not four men down.'
'We're all lucky you're not four men down, Will. Ahmed could strike at any moment — the intelligence chatter has gone off the scale. You did well to find the woman and bring her back safely. But you needn't worry about it any more. We'll be taking care of things from here on in.'