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to take him on。 Looks like I ll have to settle for his weakling of a son。 Then he took off his sunglasses and locked his bloodshot blue eyes on mine。
I tried to take a breath and couldn t。 I tried to blink and couldn t。 The moment felt surreal……no； not surreal； absurd……it had knocked the breath out of me； brought the world around me to a standstill。 My face was burning。 What was the old saying about the bad penny？ My past was like that； always turning up。 His name rose from the deep and I didn t want to say it； as if uttering it might conjure him。 But he was already here； in the flesh； sitting less than ten feet from me； after all these years。 His name escaped my lips： Assef。
Ainir jan。
What are you doing here？ I said； knowing how utterly foolish the question sounded； yet unable to think of anything else to say。
Me？ Assef arched an eyebrow I m in my element。 The question is what are you doing here？
I already told you； I said。 My voice was trembling。 I wished it wouldn t do that； wished my flesh wasn t shrinking against my bones。
The boy？
Yes。
Why？
I ll pay you for him； I said。 I can have money wired。
Money？ Assef said。 He tittered。 Have you ever heard of Rockingham？ Western Australia； a slice of heaven。 You should see it； miles and miles of beach。 Green water； blue skies。 My parents live there； in a beachfront villa。 There s a golf course behind the villa and a little lake。 Father plays golf every day。 Mother； she prefers tennis……Father says she has a wicked backhand。 They own an Afghan restaurant and two jewelry stores； both businesses are doing spectacularly。 He plucked a red grape。 Put it； lovingly； in Sohrab s mouth。 So if I need money； I ll have them wire it to me。 He kissed the side of Sohrab s neck。 The boy flinched a little； closed his eyes again。 Besides； I didn t fight the Shorawi for money。 Didn t join the Taliban for money either。 Do you want to know why I joined them？
My lips had gone dry。 I licked them and found my tongue had dried too。
Are you thirsty？ Assef said； smirking。
I think you re thirsty。
I m fine； I said。 The truth was； the room felt too hot suddenly……sweat was bursting from my pores； prickling my skin。 And was this really happening？ Was I really sitting across from Assef？
As you wish； he said。 Anyway； where was I？ Oh yes； how I joined the Taliban。 Well； as you may remember； I wasn t much of a religious type。 But one day I had an epiphany。 I had it in jail。 Do you want to hear？
I said nothing。
Good。 I ll tell you； he said。 I spent some time in jail； at Poleh…Charkhi； just after Babrak Karmal took over in 1980。 I ended up there one night； when a group of Parc hami soldiers marched into our house and ordered my father and me at gun point to follow them。 The bastards didn t give a reason； and they wouldn t answer my mother s questions。 Not that it was a mys tery； everyone knew the munists had no class。 They came from poor families with no name。 The same dogs who weren t fit to lick my shoes before the Shorawi came were now ordering me at gunpoint； Parchami flag on their lapels； makin