Stone - 25 - Collateral Damage

her eyes could be seen. “There,” he said, “that’s very becoming. And by the way, I don’t give a shit who you are. You are alone with three horny men in the middle of nowhere, and you will do as I say and quickly. Do you understand?”
    “Yes,” she said.
    He pointed at a mule. “Get on that animal, and don’t speak again unless you’re spoken to.”
    Jasmine grabbed her backpack, slung it over the horn of the saddle, and managed to get aboard. The mule didn’t seem to care one way or another. A moment later there was a jerk as the rope leading from her mule’s bridle to the saddle of the mule ahead became taut.
    —
    Eleven hours later the little caravan wound along a steep, narrow trail. The air had become thinner, and the animals sucked and blew. They rounded a corner, and before them was a wide arch, covered by camouflage canvas. Everybody dismounted.
    They had had only two breaks all day, and her bladder was bursting. “Where can I pee?” she asked one of the native men in Arabic.
    He pointed. “Behind rock,” he replied.
    She ran around the big stone, hoisted the burka, dropped her jeans and squatted, leaning against the rock. When her stream made noise, the men on the other side of the rock laughed.
    When she returned, the canvas had been pulled back, and the men and animals were inside a cave, lit by dim electric lights. The ISI agent grabbed her elbow and pointed at another woman in a burka. “Go with the women,” he said. “You will be called when he is ready—maybe tomorrow.”
    “Maybe tomorrow? I’ve got to—” She stopped as he drew back his hand. “All right.” She followed the woman along a passage and a moment later they emerged into a roundish cavern, perhaps twenty feet in diameter. Half a dozen women sat around a small fire that was lit in the middle, its smoke disappearing into the darkness above.
    She was told she could take off the burka, then she was given a surprisingly good stew of lamb and vegetables, which she ate greedily. Then she was given a small pillow and a blanket and told to sleep. She had no trouble doing so.
    —
    She was shaken awake. Light was coming through a hole in the top of the cavern, and the other women were moving about. She was handed a bowl containing a hunk of bread and goat cheese. She ate the breakfast and washed it down with water from a canteen.
    “You!” a man shouted.
    She turned to find him pointing at her. “Put on the burka and come!”
    She did as she was told and followed him back to the main passage and for perhaps a hundred paces, making several turns. She emerged into a well-lit room with carpets and pillows on the floor and several pieces of ornate furniture. Five men sat in a circle, eating. She was told to sit and be quiet.
    Half an hour later four of the men left, and the fifth man beckoned her to come and sit before him. He seemed to be in his fifties, with a graying beard and broad shoulders.
    “Listen to me,” he said, and she nodded.
    “Remove burka.”
    She pulled the garment over her head and smoothed her hair back.
    “Stand there,” he said, pointing at a white cloth hung on a nearby wall. “Brush your hair—look presentable.”
    She did so, tucking in her shirttail. A man appeared with a Polaroid camera and took her picture. When it developed, four images appeared and he took the photos away.
    The man beckoned her to return to him, but he did not tell her to put on the burka again. “You are the sister of Ari and Mohammad, are you not?”
    “I am.”
    “My condolences. I knew your father. My condolences for him, too.”
    “Thank you. My only wish from now on is to take revenge against British and American intelligence for their deaths. It would be my father’s wish.”
    “I understand. It was important that I see you,” he said, “before you continue your work. You are intelligent and, I suspect, very wily.”
    She smiled. “Thank you.”
    “You have good ideas for London.”
    “Thank you.”
    He rummaged in an ornate box next to him and came up with a sturdy brown envelope. He handed it to her. “Look inside.”
    She opened the envelope and removed a sheet of paper, to which a thin key was taped. On the paper was written the name and address of a London bank, a man’s name, and a box number.
    “You will go to the bank and ask for this man, then request to open your box. There will be money there, sufficient for your needs. When you have more ideas, more money will be in the box. You