Local time – 7:50pm, Sunday 17th June, 2011.
Rawalpindi, Pakistan.
Ahmed couldn’t understand how he was back in this place. All he had wanted to do was to stop the lunacy of his government giving away everything Pakistan had worked for. But when he saw the tears running down the girl’s face, and the way she looked at the man to protect her, he felt a regret so deep within him, it made him want to walk away. He had watched as Tariq was shot, his closest friend dying in front of him. Mohamed went into the bathroom and never came out, and then Yasir was shot trying to run away. That left him all alone and he was petrified. Somehow he had managed to capture these two people, and there was no way he could admit to them that the last thing he wanted to do was torture them. The scars left from what he did to the spy that afternoon were still fresh, and the stain on his heart from shooting Salman left him numb inside. But he forced himself to keep going. He picked up the lighter, and started flicking it, until a steady flame appeared. Looking away from the girl and her pleading eyes, he concentrated on the man.
‘Which of you is going to give me their part of the code first?’ he asked. The man seemed to be searching for words, but even when his mouth opened, nothing came out. ‘If you give it to me, I’ll let you go. You can live, you just need to help me first.’ Ahmed couldn’t even convince himself that he wasn’t bluffing. He knew how he must sound – like someone who’d lost the will to do anything. The man still looked terrified, but the girl was staring at him with a look of confusion. Or was it pity? He needed to show them he was in control.
He ripped the man’s shirt, revealing a muscled stomach, covered in sweat. The man started to shake and tried pulling on his cuffs, feverishly hoping to get away. Ahmed’s shaking hand brought the flame down on the man’s moving abdomen and he shrieked in pain. A red burn mark appeared. The man’s legs started kicking violently at Ahmed, and it was only then that he realised he should have tied the ankles too. He jumped back out of the way of the flying feet. The girl now craned her neck and looked at him with an expression that could only be described as revulsion. She no longer showed any of the fear she had when he handcuffed her. It was if her anger had erased it.
‘What the fuck do you think you’re going to do to us? The more you hurt us, the less likely we’ll give you anything!’ Ahmed was taken aback by her fury. She seemed to be shaking with it now, just as she had before with fear.
‘You’ll give me what I need when you realise it’s the only way to make it stop!’
‘Really? You think so? And then what? What are you going to do then?’ It should have been a simple question, but somehow she had managed to find the one truth of the situation that Ahmed hadn’t wanted to admit to himself. He had no idea what he was going to do with the weapon once he had two PAL codes. The plan had been to find the weapon. And then use it to gain back control of Pakistan’s sovereignty. Whoever had bought the rest of their arsenal would need to be told that Pakistani wasn’t impotent. But who would he tell? And what would he tell them? Now he just stood with his mouth gaping open, completely lost for words. And the girl seemed to be able to read his mind.
‘You haven’t got a clue! You’re just a scared little boy! That weapon out there is far more responsibility than you’re ready to have. So what now? You want us to help you? You may as well shoot us now because we’re not going to tell you anything. What sort of animal are you?’ The man next to her was now staring at her, obviously not expecting such an outburst, any more than Ahmed was. When neither of them said anything, her harangue continued, and the words stung at Ahmed.
‘You want to save Pakistan? But you don’t even know how you’re going to do it! This isn’t a movie. You can’t just make a call to the British Prime Minister or the White House and say, “excuse me, I’ve got a nuclear weapon and the codes to use it so can you please leave my country be. Thanks for that.” You’re just a psycho lunatic! Shooting people. Killing people. And now you have all these tools sitting here. What sort of sick puppy are you?’
The words seemed to be spilling out of the girl now. Ahmed wanted to strike her, but for some reason, he stood perfectly still and his muscles wouldn’t move him forward. It was almost as if her rage formed a protective shield around her and the words were tiny weapons, each one battering him into submission. Ahmed had never experienced anything like it. And just when he thought she might be finished, she said something that tore through him like a grenade thrown at his chest.
‘The most ridiculous part is, we all want the same thing! We’re not here to ruin Pakistan’s security and strip you of your precious weapon! We’re here to stop a powerful, elite group who you know nothing about, from gaining control of the world’s supply of nuclear weapons! This isn’t just about Pakistan you stupid little moron. It’s about the whole world’s safety! We know how important this weapon is! We know whoever controls it can stop this group from using their arsenal. But you don’t even know who these people are! Do you! You wouldn’t even know where to start contacting them, because you don’t even know who they are! You need our help! So undo us now and count yourself lucky we don’t torture you for your code. The only reason we’re not going to is because we’re humane! Unlike you, you putrid little shit!’
When she was finished, Ahmed found himself leaning back against the bathroom wall, exhausted from the tirade. No one had ever spoken to him like that before. Except of course his mother, who he had been putting out of his mind all day, terrified of what she would say if she knew what he had done. The girl’s voice had gone horse, but she had managed to keep the volume up at a point where the tiles echoed around her. Before Ahmed had time to think what he was doing, his shaky legs took him to the closest toilet door, and he retched into the toilet bowl.