"Yes. I know who that is—I've seen him before. It's the man who was in the stone hut with Jean-Pierre, it's Anatoly."
"His contact," Ellis breathed. He looked hard, trying to make out the man's features: at this distance he seemed somewhat Oriental. What was he like? He had ventured alone into rebel territory to meet with Jean-Pierre, so he must be brave. Today he was certainly angry, for he had led the Russians into a trap at Darg. He would want to strike back fast, to recover the initiative—
Ellis's speculations were abruptly cut off as another figure emerged from the mosque, a bearded man in an open-neck white shirt and dark Western-style trousers. "Jesus Christ Almighty," Ellis said. "It's Jean-Pierre."
"Oh!" Jane cried out.
"Now what the hell is going on?" muttered Ellis.
"I thought I'd never see him again," said Jane. Ellis looked at her. Her face wore an odd expression. After a moment he realized it was a look of remorse.
He returned his attention to the scene in the village. Jean-Pierre was speaking to the Russian officer and gesticulating, pointing up the mountainside.
"He's standing oddly," said Jane. "I think he's hurt himself."
"Is he pointing toward us?" Ellis asked.
"He doesn't know about this place—nobody does. Can he see us?"
"No."
"We can see him," she said dubiously.
"But he's standing upright against a plain background. We're lying flat, peeping out from under a blanket, against a mottled hillside. He couldn't spot us unless he knew where to look."
"Then he must be pointing toward the caves."
"Yes."
"He must be telling the Russians to look there."
"Yes."
"But that's awful. How could he . . ." Her voice tailed off, and after a pause she said: "But of course that's what he's been doing ever since he got here—betraying people to the Russians."
Ellis noticed that Anatoly appeared to be speaking into a walkie-talkie. A moment later one of the circling Hinds roared over Ellis and Jane's hooded heads to land, audible but out of sight, on the hilltop.
Jean-Pierre and Anatoly were walking away from the mosque. Jean-Pierre was limping. "He is hurt," said Ellis.
"I wonder what happened."
It looked to Ellis as if Jean-Pierre had been beaten up, but he did not say so. He was wondering what was going on in Jane's mind. There was her husband, walking with a KGB officer—a colonel, Ellis thought, from the uniform. Here she was, in a makeshift bed with another man. Did she feel guilty? Ashamed? Disloyal? Or unrepentant? Did she hate Jean-Pierre, or was she merely disappointed in him? She had been in love with him: was there any love left? He said: "How do you feel about him?"
She gave Ellis a long, hard look, and for a moment he thought she was going to get mad, but it was only that she was taking his question very seriously. Finally she said: "Sad." She turned her gaze back to the village.
Jean-Pierre and Anatoly were heading for Jane's house, where Chantal lay concealed on the roof.
Jane said: "I think they're looking for me."
Her expression was drawn and scared as she stared at the two men down below. Ellis did not think the Russians had come all this way with so many men and machines just for Jane, but he did not say so.
Jean-Pierre and Anatoly walked through the courtyard of the shopkeeper's house and entered the building.
"Don't cry, little girl," whispered Jane.
It was a miracle the baby was still asleep, Ellis thought. Perhaps she was not: perhaps she was awake and crying, but her cries were drowned by the noise of the helicopters. Perhaps the soldier had not heard her because there had been a chopper directly overhead at that moment. Perhaps the more sensitive ears of her father would hear sounds which had failed to catch the attention of a disinterested stranger. Perhaps—
The two men came out of the house.
They stood in the courtyard for a moment, talking intently. Jean-Pierre limped across to the wooden staircase which led to the roof. He mounted the first step with evident difficulty, then got down again. There was another short exchange of words, and the Russian mounted the stairs.
Ellis held his breath.
Anatoly reached the top of the stair and stepped onto the roof. Like the soldier before him, he glanced at the scattered bedding, looked around at other houses, and then returned his attention to this one. Like the soldier, he poked at Fara's mattress with the toe of his boot. Then he knelt down beside Chantal.
Gently, he drew back the sheet.
Jane gave an inarticulate cry as Chantal's pink face came into view.
If they're after Jane, Ellis thought, they will take Chantal, for they know she would give herself up in order to be reunited with her baby.
Anatoly stared at the tiny bundle for several seconds.
"Oh, God, I can't stand this, I can't stand it," Jane groaned.
Ellis held her tight and said: "Wait, wait and see."
He strained his eyes to make out the expression on the baby's face, but the distance was too great.
The Russian appeared to be thinking.
Suddenly he seemed to make up his mind.
He dropped the sheet, tucked it in around the baby, stood up and walked away.
Jane burst into tears.
From the roof Anatoly spoke to Jean-Pierre, shaking his head in negation. Then he descended into the courtyard.
"Now why did he do that?" Ellis mused, thinking aloud. The shake of the head meant that Anatoly was lying to Jean-Pierre, saying "There is nobody on the roof." The implication was that Jean-Pierre would have wanted to take the baby, but Anatoly did not. That meant that Jean-Pierre wanted to find Jane, but the Russian was not interested in her.
So what was he interested in?
It was obvious. He was after Ellis.
"I believe I may have fucked up," Ellis said, mainly to himself. Jean-Pierre wanted Jane and Chantal, but Anatoly was looking for him. Anatoly wanted revenge for yesterday's humiliation; he wanted to prevent Ellis returning to the West with the treaty the rebel commanders had signed; and he wanted to put Ellis on trial to prove to the world that the CIA was behind the Afghan rebellion. I should have thought of all this yesterday, Ellis reflected bitterly, but I was flushed with success and thinking only about Jane. Besides, Anatoly could not know I was here—I might have been in Darg, or Astana, or hiding out in the hills with Masud—so it must have been a long shot. But it had almost worked. Anatoly had good instincts. He was a formidable opponent—and the battle was not yet over.
Jane was weeping. Ellis stroked her hair and made soothing noises while he watched Jean-Pierre and Anatoly walk back toward the helicopters, which were still standing in the fields with their rotors churning the air.
The Hind that had landed on the hilltop near the caves took off again and rose over Ellis and Jane's heads. Ellis wondered whether the seven wounded guerrillas in the cave clinic had been interrogated or taken prisoner or both.
It ended very quickly. The soldiers came out of the mosque at the double and piled into the Hip as fast as they had emerged. Jean-Pierre and Anatoly boarded one of the Hinds. The ugly aircraft took off, one by one, lifting giddily until they were higher than the hill and then speeding southward in a straight line.
Ellis, knowing what was in Jane's mind, said: "Just wait a few more seconds, until all the choppers have gone—don't spoil everything now."
She nodded tearful acquiescence.
The villagers began to trickle out of the mosque, looking scared. The last helicopter took off and headed south. Jane scrambled out of the sleeping bag, pulled on her trousers, shrugged into her shirt and ran off down the hillside, slipping and stumbling and buttoning her shirt as she went. Ellis watched her go, feeling that somehow she had spurned him, knowing that the feeling was irrational, unable nevertheless to shake it. He would not follow her yet, he decided. He would leave her alone for her reunion with Chantal.