The Network - Jason Elliot [115]
‘Does that include America?’ I ask.
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Why shouldn’t it? I don’t dislike America. But America is like the Taliban. It doesn’t have one head. Listen, my friends. I have talked to American diplomats here and in Islamabad. I have talked to the State Department in Washington. I have talked to the CIA and the military. Every one of them has a different idea about Afghanistan, but only America is powerful enough to help us.’ He sweeps his hand again over his head. ‘Their great weakness is to see the world in black and white. It’s always good guys and bad guys with them.’ He chuckles. ‘In meetings they always ask, “Is he a good guy or a bad guy?” They want it to be black and white. But nothing is black and white in Afghanistan. There are a thousand shades between black and white.’
I ask if he thinks that bin Laden will be handed over.
He sighs deeply. ‘Before, it was possible. Now, I doubt. After they tried to catch him, he is too cautious.’ I didn’t know anyone had tried to catch him, but thinking back to some of the things Grace alluded to back in Washington, it makes sense. Karzai raises an emphatic finger in the air. ‘Osama will bring big trouble to Afghanistan, I guarantee. Even though he himself is not the most powerful one. Make no mistake. This is an international war with international players.’
We move on from this dark thought to more immediate things. Karzai doesn’t know, or want to know, the operational details of our onward journey. But he sits with us over our maps and tells us in detail about the Taliban’s deployments and what we can expect in different places. He agrees that to drive to the south via Kandahar will invite too much attention and that our planned approach from the north will be safer.
‘Whatever you think of them,’ he says, ‘the Taliban are Afghans, and unless you do something very foolish they will treat you as their guests. But al-Qaeda is a different matter. They are trained to think that Westerners are the cause of all evil. If they suspect something, you will have difficulties.’
‘When you say difficulties,’ asks H, ‘what do you mean?’
‘I mean they will shoot you and your bodies will never be found. Fortunately for you the majority are in the south of the country and you are unlikely to meet them. God forbid it should be so.’
He agrees to send a message to our contact in Kabul to alert him to our arrival and advises caution in the matter of who we trust. When it’s time to give him the money that we have promised to deliver on Grace’s behalf, we hand over the shrink-wrapped bundles of cash, each one of which contains a hundred thousand dollars. He picks them up, stuffs them cheerfully into the saddlebags of his bicycle, wishes us good luck and pedals away.
‘He’s pretty switched on for a bike messenger,’ says H as we go back indoors.
Not many foreigners take the overland route into Afghanistan. We haven’t actually got permission to enter the tribal territories between Peshawar and the border, but it can take weeks to arrange and H wants to see the Khyber Pass, which is actually a dramatic series of switchbacks on the Pakistani side of the frontier. It’s an unforgettable way to get to Afghanistan and there isn’t anywhere quite like it. So at dawn two days later, after our visas come through with the help of the trust, we change into local clothes and head for the border with our driver.
From the tribal point of view, we’re already in Afghanistan. The British drew the frontier a hundred years ago, but it was never recognised by the Pashtuns who live along both sides of its thousand-mile length, and Afghans still like to joke that they in fact own much of Pakistan. It’s wild territory. There are Pakistani police checkpoints along the way, but you get the sense their power doesn’t reach much further than the distance they can swing their long bamboo truncheons.