Rough Cut: Rosie Gilmour 6 (17 page)

Rosie could smell the acrid sweat from the Taliban soldier as he circled her, leaning close, prodding her with the butt of his rifle. She shifted her position so her back was to the wall of the small, musty room. The children weren’t smiling any more, and the woman busied herself at the far side of the room with her back turned. The soldier came close to Rosie again, and her body jerked as he barked something into her face. She shook her head, raising her hands submissively. Make a gesture, she told herself, any gesture, that will make this bullying bastard understand she was lost and terrified, and no threat to him. He fixed her with dark eyes full of anger and contempt. She looked away, choking back the whimper rising in her throat. Don’t, she told herself. Man up. Not one word of bloody Urdu did she have to communicate. Nothing.

‘Ismal!’ she finally managed to whisper. ‘Doctor!’

She gestured, with hands on her chest that she was with
Ismal, hoping they would know him, but it didn’t seem to register with him as he stared through her.

‘Ismal,’ she repeated. ‘Doctor.’ Then, the name of the border refugee camp suddenly flashed into her mind. ‘Dangam! Ismal. Me . . .’

Nothing. Then, behind him, the man who had dragged her into the house suddenly spoke. She thought she caught the name Asima, but she was too afraid to risk speaking. The rage seemed to slip from the Taliban’s face and he immediately turned and left the room.

Rosie broke down, covering her face with her hands. The children eyed her, bewildered, as their mother came over to her and put her finger to her lips.

‘Ssssh.’ She reached out and gently touched her arm. Then she crossed the room and brought back a small glass with what looked like tea in it. She handed it to Rosie and smiled.

Rosie gratefully sipped the warm, sweet mint tea.

‘Asima,’ the woman whispered.

‘Asima?’ Rosie said, hopefully. ‘She’s your friend.’ She wished she had a gesture for friend.

The woman nodded.

Then she pulled up a small wooden stool and beckoned Rosie over to sit. She brushed her finger on Rosie’s cheek, wiping away a tear, and Rosie struggled not to start blubbing again.

Rosie stiffened as she heard raised voices outside. The
woman moved swiftly to the other side of the room, gathering the children around her. The door was thrown open and Rosie braced herself. To her relief, Ismal came in, behind two Taliban soldiers and two other men. He was speaking in Urdu all the time with an air of confidence and the men stood back as he looked at Rosie.

‘It’s okay.’

She suppressed the urge to throw her arms around him.

‘Thank Christ you’re here, Ismal. I thought . . . I thought . . . Jesus. I don’t know what I thought. I was terrified.’

‘I know. When all the crap happened at the bazaar, we looked around and you were gone.’

‘A stall fell on top of me – pots and pans. When I got up, there was nobody there. And then I got swept away in the deluge of people.’

Ismal smiled.

‘Don’t worry. It’s all okay now. The problem is, I’m told you wandered around on your own and went into one of their cafes. That’s just about a hanging offence here, a woman walking into a place full of men. You’re not in Byres Road now, pal.’

‘What would have happened if you hadn’t found me?’

Ismal shrugged.

‘Don’t know. Maybe nothing, maybe something bad. It depends on which headcase you come up against, and what he’s trying to prove to others. But put it this way, you don’t
want to be at the mercy of these guys. Come on, let’s get out of here. The lads are in the car.’

He turned to the Taliban and shook all of their hands, totally ignoring the woman who was standing with her back to the stove. Rosie glanced over her shoulder, and the woman was still looking at her.

*

‘We heard you were getting stoned to death.’ Matt grinned as Rosie climbed into the back seat behind him. ‘In fact we were just finishing our lunch before going up to get a ringside seat.’

‘Yeah, very bloody funny, you.’ Rosie couldn’t help but smile. She was glad Matt hadn’t given her a sympathetic look or she might have completely lost it. ‘I was bloody terrified.’

‘Where were you?’

‘Where was I? Christ! I stumbled into some men’s afternoon domino session and got banjaxed by the Taliban.’ Rosie shook her head and rolled down the window. ‘Honestly, Matt, I thought I was a goner.’

He turned close to her, and peered at her face.

‘You’ve got dirt all over your face.’ He rubbed it with his thumb.

‘I fell, or rather I was thrown, into someone’s house. I’ll tell you about it later.’

‘Okay, guys, all safe and well. Let’s go.’ Ismal switched on the engine and headed down the hill.

Omar turned around to face Rosie, a big smile on his face.

‘I reckon, with the right negotiations, we could get good money marrying you off to some Taliban bloke. I mean, you’re white as a sheet – that’s got to count for something if they want to widen the gene pool up here.’

‘Yeah, right. Everyone’s a bloody comedian.’ Rosie smiled back at him, glad of the banter.

*

Over lunch back at the house, Ismal and Omar set out the plan for early evening, when they would pick up Laila, and, all being well, head for Islamabad.

‘I’m friends with a Scottish couple at the British Embassy in Islamabad,’ Ismal said. ‘I met them at one of these charity functions for the Afghan refugee camps. They’re good people – very much onside with our sentiments over forced marriages.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. We got on well and we’ve had dinner once. Asima told them about the work she does with the group she’s involved with to help young girls. I talked to them the day before you arrived, actually, and told them the situation. So, they’ve agreed to help.’

‘But what can they do?’

‘Well, once we leave here, we’re very much on the run until we get flights sorted for tomorrow.’ He glanced at Rosie. ‘Listen. I’m confident this is going to work. Once we
get out of Swat, we just hammer it to Islamabad, so you should get your office to book you, Matt and Omar on a flight out of there tomorrow morning. I’ll sort out Laila’s flight – but not till the very last minute. We don’t want to alert anyone, especially if we get followed once we’ve picked her up.’

Rosie nodded slowly, a blur of images flashing through her mind of getting collared at the airport and flung into a jail cell.

‘So, how will the Scottish couple help?’

‘We stay with them tonight. Their house is on British Embassy grounds, so once we’re in there, nobody can touch us. And they have diplomatic plates on their car. So Gerry – that’s the husband – will drive us to the airport in the morning. That way, we go right through to security. Just a quick check of your bags – it makes things quicker and gets you off the main concourse of the airport. It’s how the diplomats travel.’

‘But how is, er, Gerry able to do this?’ Rosie asked, puzzled. ‘Will he have to tell people in the embassy to get the authority, or can he just go ahead and do it?’

Ismal shook his head.

‘He doesn’t have to explain everything he does to the embassy officials. He’s quite senior, so he can take decisions. Call it one of the perks of being a diplomat.’

‘Sounds too good to be true.’ Rosie was relieved.

She’d never been involved in anything like this before.
The last time she was being pursued to an airport was in Malaga after Adrian had had to shoot their way out of a jam – leaving their fixer, Javier, in a car park bleeding from gunshot wounds. Diplomatic plates that could take you almost to the departure gate made her feel a lot more comfortable.

‘Do you think Laila will be able to go through with this? What if she bottles it?’ Matt asked.

Everyone looked at Rosie.

‘She won’t. She’s a plucky girl, and angry that she’s where she is. I’d be surprised if she’s not ready and waiting for us right now.’

‘I think so too,’ Ismal said.

They sat quietly for a moment, and Rosie watched Asima clear plates away and work around the kitchen.

‘What about you, Asima? Do you ever worry that someone will inform on you for the work you do to help these girls?’

Asima stood with her back to the sink, drying her hands on a towel.

‘Not really.’ She shook her head. ‘People are very good at keeping secrets in this part of the world. Especially women. We’ve had to. But in recent years, there has been a growing sense of resentment, and even though women don’t dare to voice this in public, we can talk amongst ourselves. That is where our movement found its roots.’ She sighed. ‘We can’t help everyone. The truth is, we help very few – maybe
only two girls a year – while hundreds are married off against their will. But it’s a start.’

Rosie said nothing. Asima’s courage, fighting her ground in a hostile country, made her feel a little ashamed of the nerves in her stomach at the prospect of the evening ahead.

They left Ismal’s home and made their way in the direction of the village where Laila was being held. Asima was in the car in front, driven by a young medic friend of Ismal’s who was trusted enough to be in on the operation. The sun was slowly sinking behind the mountains, bathing the sky and the landscape in the amber glow of early evening. Ismal hung back a little as Asima turned into the village, and Rosie shuddered, recalling her panic and terror while trapped among the Taliban earlier. Now, the village main street that had been bustling with market traders was empty and tranquil. Ismal had chosen this time of the day because almost everyone would be home eating, or would have just finished and be relaxing for the night. They drove down to the foot of the hill and Ismal pulled off the road and up a tight, hidden path where he could watch for Asima approaching.

‘So, now we wait.’ Ismal switched off the engine and sat back.

‘How long do you think you’ll stay in Pakistan, Ismal?’ Rosie asked. ‘Do you want to raise a family here, or will you come back home?’

He let out a weary sigh.

‘In the beginning, I wanted to come back to my roots here, put something back into the country which my parents had left so they could give me a better life. I was full of all these ideals. But, now that I see what is happening, how it’s being ruined, I don’t think Asima and I will stay. Actually, we are looking at possibly working in America. We both have relatives who moved there and settled a few years ago. I had an offer from a hospital a few months ago, but didn’t take it up. Now, I’ve had another offer and I feel differently. I’m going to talk to them next week.’

‘You should leave sooner rather than later,’ Omar said, ruffling his cousin’s hair affectionately. ‘It’s four years since I’ve been here, and it’s no place for people like us to live any more. You should leave them to their own devices. There’s only so much you can do for people. I don’t think it’s safe to have the kind of mentality and beliefs you have here, Ismal. Sooner or later, they will come after you.’

Ismal nodded.

‘I know.’

‘And another thing,’ Omar said. ‘Now, don’t take this the wrong way.’ He spread his hands. ‘You’re a brilliant doctor
and a great guy, but tell you what, we’re going to need some crazy driving here in case anything happens, so I think you should move over and let me take the wheel.’ He paused and Ismal looked at him, saying nothing. ‘Trust me.’ Omar grinned. ‘I’m a Paki.’

Ismal smiled back, shaking his head.

‘Okay, big potatoes,’ he said, opening the driver’s door and getting out. ‘But just don’t get us all killed, alright?’

‘No chance.’ Omar jumped across to the driver’s seat.

In the distance, clouds of dust swirled as a bus appeared and they watched as it rolled past them, half empty. The dust settled for a moment, then suddenly more clouds appeared, and Omar sat forward, peering out of the windscreen. He switched on the engine.

‘I see Asima’s car. Here they come! Game on!’

Rosie strained her eyes as the dust cleared and the car came closer. She could see what looked like two people in the front seats.

‘Can you make out how many are in the car?’

‘I only see two,’ Omar said. ‘But Laila may be lying flat in the back so they can get out unnoticed.’

‘Whatever,’ Ismal said. ‘We’ll know soon enough. Let’s go.’

As Omar drove down the hill, Ismal’s mobile rang, and he pressed it to his ear.

‘Great.’ He looked in his rear-view mirror and Rosie could see the smile on his face.

‘We’re on!’ Ismal said. ‘They got Laila!’ He slid on his
seatbelt. ‘Now strap yourselves in, folks, because something tells me this is going to be a bit of a white-knuckle ride. We have to get away from here as fast as possible.’

Omar allowed Asima’s car to speed past them, then followed.

Rosie and Matt bounced in the back seat as the car zipped down the mountain roads. In a couple of minutes they could see the bus beyond Asima’s car. But she sped up and overtook it on a long straight stretch. In seconds they were behind the bus, but on a mountain path, hurtling towards a blind bend with a sheer drop. Suddenly, Omar put his foot down. Rosie glanced at Matt and closed her eyes. The bus honked angrily as Omar overtook on the tightest part of the bend, leaving clouds of dust in his wake.

‘Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that, guys,’ Omar joked. ‘You okay in the back there, Rosie?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Rosie replied. ‘You should have given us blindfolds.’

They picked up speed and sat behind Asima’s car all the way down the mountain and towards the main road. At the foot of the hill, they could see two pickup trucks and men in black turbans.

‘Shit! They’re flagging Asima down,’ Ismal said.

Rosie and Matt exchanged perplexed glances.

‘What do you think, Ismal?’

‘Asima will just play it by ear. My young trainee is good
too. As long as these guys don’t want to make trouble, it should be okay.’

‘I hope they’ve had their dinner.’ Matt tried to lighten the tension. ‘Or they’ll be grizzly as fuck.’

Omar chuckled in the front seat, but Rosie sensed it was more from tension than anything else. He drove slowly, hanging back a little as the Taliban soldier leaned in through the passenger window to talk to the medic. Rosie could see the figure in the back seat, covered from head to toe, now. The Taliban soldier went to the back of the car and opened the door. Asima and the medic protested, but he reached in and dragged Laila out. He pushed her to the side and towards the other Taliban soldier, who grabbed hold of her by the hair, her headscarf slipping. Then the other one went to the driver’s door and pulled the medic out. Asima got out of the other side and came around to the front. The first Taliban soldier lined all three of them up, and seemed to speak to the other one, who was on his mobile.