Refuge (22 page)

“Mr. Hiddink still has no clue he has a son, does he? And from what I can tell your brother, Isaac, doesn’t know you’re his mother either? Quite the sacrifice your mom made there. Why she do it? My guess is she was damned if some philandering Dutchman was going to screw up your life the way one had screwed hers. Am I close?”

Elma feels dizzy. She looks around and imagines everyone in the room to be looking at her. She staggers towards the patio doors.

“Don’t worry,” Ivor says, “your secret’s safe with me.”

She keeps on going. The manicured garden is brimming with guests. She spies an empty bench at the far end and winds her way over to it. She closes her eyes and takes a series of deep breaths.

For the last five months of her pregnancy, her mother had kept Elma home with ‘lupus’ and had even worn a pillow to work to make her colleagues think it was she who was expecting. Fifteen years ago she’d been petrified that someone would discover her secret, but as the years had passed she’d become less and less concerned. The fabrication had been so complete that of late Elma had even stopped thinking of Isaac as her son.

And now this.

She feels the urge to vomit.

“Elma,” she hears someone say.

She opens her eyes to see Rod standing there in a safari jacket. He gives her a concerned look, and she straightens up.

“You okay?” he says.

“Yeah, just one of those days.”

“I hear you. You mind if I take a load off?”

She shakes her head, and he sits down beside her. They gaze out at the partygoers.

“I don’t know how you can do your job,” he says. “I’ve never come across a bigger group of self-satisfied bastards in my life.”

“I guess you just have to remember who you’re doing it for. If you don’t get this lot on your side you’ll achieve nothing.”

“No scholarships for Noor.”

“Exactly.”

She watches Ivor worm his way through the crowd. He looks her way and raises his glass. She turns towards Rod.

“I don’t know if you have time, in fact it’s probably silly even to ask, but I have to visit one of our projects in the Hunza Valley for a couple of days. It doesn’t involve Afghan refugees, but I’m really proud of what we’ve done up there; it’s such a poor area but it’s so beautiful especially in the autumn when the leaves are turning. I promise, you’ve never seen mountains so tall, rivers so blue—”

“Elma, stop, you don’t need to sell me. I’d love to come.”

Elma blushes. All she wants to do is to wrap her arms around him and sink into his embrace. But she won’t. And she won’t go home with him tonight either. There’s no way she’d want to give Ivor the satisfaction. She looks back out at the party and wishes she was anywhere but here.

Don’t worry. In New York, it’ll be different.

TWENTY-FIVE

“OKAY, I WANT
to start off by offering you all an apology. Ever since I got here I haven’t taken this job seriously, so I get why you haven’t either.”

Charlie looks at the faces of his Afghan recruits. They stare back at him without any hint of emotion.

“But things are going to change from now on. First off, I’m going to be here at eight every morning and I expect you to be too.”

Charlie hears a couple of grumbles. The only teenage recruit in the group sticks up his hand.

“Mansoor,” Charlie says.

“I live in Baghbanan. Rahmahullah, Mohammad Khan also too.”

“That a problem?”

“It long way away.”

“I’m sorry but you’ll just have to get up earlier.”

Mansoor glowers at him.

“Secondly, we’re going to stay each day until we’ve completed whatever task we set out to do, even if that means going home after dark.”

Jawad, a refugee in a checkered sweater, raises his hand. Charlie nods at him.

“I have job at night,” Jawad says.

“Again I’m sorry, but you’ve got to choose. It’s either this or that.”

Charlie knows without a doubt that the Mine Aware job pays way more. Jawad and Mansoor share a look.

“Now can anyone tell me what my main mission is?”

Obaidullah sticks up his hand.

“To teach us to get mines out of the ground, sir.”

“Good try but no. Anyone else? No one? Okay, it’s simple, to keep you guys safe. Got that; S‌—‌A—F‌—‌E. Now how many of you know someone who stepped on a mine?”

This time every single hand goes up.

“So I guess you all know what bastards they are.”

“Bastards, sir?” Shafiq says.

“Tough, not easy to find, hell most are overgrown with weeds or hidden in scrub.”

Yunus raises his hand.

“In Baghran, Russians laid the mines all around the walls of our villages and in fields.”

Charlie picks up a circular mine off the table beside him.

“And did they look like this?”

“Exactly, sir.”

“What’s wrong with Yunus’s answer?”

Najib sticks his hand up.

“Go for it, Najib.”

“That mine is too clean, sir.”

“Right‌—‌most look like this bastard.”

Charlie picks a rusted mine.

“Sir, I beg your pardon, but why do you insist on calling the mines bastards?” Najib says.

“Because one of them took both of Wali’s legs.”

“I understand, but still why?”

“Where I’m from a bastard’s someone who’s got no morals, who doesn’t fight fair and this here is the very definition. Corroded, waterlogged and entangled in roots which means?”

“It could explode most easily, sir,” Bakri says.

“Got it and to make matters worse, the person who laid it’s also a bastard and a crafty bastard at that. For as much as he’d like it to take off some kid’s leg or blow off your mother’s face, what really gives him a hard on is the idea of blasting your balls to smithereens.”

“Sir,” Shafiq says, “I am afraid to tell you, I do not understand what you are saying.”

The class murmurs their agreement.

“Let me put it another way. There’s no one a minelayer would like to kill more than a deminer. You’re his greatest enemy, and he’ll go to incredible lengths to kill you.”

The recruits stare back at Charlie as though he were telling a ghost story around a campfire.

Finally, I’ve made a connection.

“So what does he do? He attaches the mine to a trip wire hoping you’ll snag it. But you’re cleverer than that, you’ve been taught well.”

“Not so far,” Yunus says.

The recruits laugh. Charlie chuckles.

“Well you’re going to be, so you’ll find his wire and trace both its ends. Only problem is boom.”

The class jerks back as Charlie shouts out the word.

“He’s laid anti-personnel mines around it. And boom‌—‌they jump in the air and send pieces of metal in all directions. Boom‌—‌a metal fragment slices your belly open like a can opener. Boom‌—‌another lodges in your brain and makes you a drooling idiot.. And boom‌—‌the rest cut your legs into shreds and you get to spend the rest of your life rolling around on those pathetic wooden sleds hoping someone’ll take pity on you. Now who wants to be one of those guys?”

“Not me,” Najib says.

“Everyone.”

A chorus of ‘not me’ rises up from the group.

“So I’m going to let you in on a secret, tell you how you’re going to stop this from happening. First, from now on you do everything I say, even when it sounds dumb. Second, never cut corners. Never. You do these two things and a mine goes off, you’ll not only survive but ninety-nine percent of the time you’ll suffer only superficial injuries.”

“That is it?” Obaidullah says.

“Yes, but it’s not as easy as it sounds. You see, demining is one of the most boring jobs known to man. For every mine you find you’ll get four-hundred-and-fifty false hits. So guess what? Instead of lying flat on the ground with your balls in a knot, you start squatting. I mean why not, there’s only a slim chance the piece of metal in front of you’s a mine, and even if it is the odds are it’s stable. But if it’s not then you’re fried.”

“Fried, sir?” Yunus says.

“Decapitated.”

“I do not understand this word either.”

“The blast will pierce the gap between your visor and apron and your head will fall off as surely as if an executioner had sliced it with a sword.”

The recruits sit there in silence. Charlie lets them‌—‌he wants the message to sink in. He sees Qasim exit the main building and hurry in their direction.

Great, probably Skeppar on the line, wanting to berate me again.

“Mr. Matthews,” Najib says.

Charlie looks over at him.

“I know what a brave thing you did for Wali. We all do.”

“Thanks, but anyone would have done what I did?”

“No, most people would not, especially for an Afghan.”

“In Quran,” Obaidullah says, “it says if anyone saves a life, it is as if he saved the lives of all mankind.”

Charlie can’t help but smile. It’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to him since the accident.

“Well I appreciate that Obaidullah. Truly, I do.”

He points to a neat line of thirty miniature flags.

“Okay, today we’re going to do some probing drills.”

“We have already done these,” Mansoor says.

“Yeah but this time we’re going to do them properly. So go get your gear from Mocam and come back here and lie down in front of a flag.”

The recruits rise to their feet and head for the storeroom. Qasim reaches him.

“Mr. Matthews, sir, I received call from hospital. Wali has woken up.”

Charlie’s pulse quickens. He sprints for his bike and makes it to the hospital in record time. Doctor Halim meets him outside Wali’s room.

“How’s he doing?” Charlie says.

“Remarkably lucid and in good spirits.”

“Despite, you know…”

“He’s not aware of his misfortune yet.”

“Maybe he’s not as lucid as you think.”

“The lower half of his body is covered, and so, in all frankness, he doesn’t realize his legs are gone.”

“Apart from the fact he can’t feel them anymore.”

“On the contrary his nervous system’s telling him that they’re still attached to his body. In fact he complained just now that his right leg was itchy.”

“So why haven’t you told him?”

“We find the shock is lessened when the news comes from a friend or a family member. You did say he had no family to speak of, didn’t you?”

Charlie nods.

“There is some good news,” Doctor Halim says. “The ophthalmologist thinks he’ll be able to save his right eye.”

“Well, thank God for that.”

Charlie glances at the door. All he wants to do is run.

This is not about you
.

He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open. A broad grin breaks across Wali’s face.

“Mr. Matthews, what a wonderful surprise.”

“Good to see you too, buddy. How you feeling?”

“A little woozy but don’t worry I’ll be up on my feet before you know it.”

Charlie does his best not to grimace. He grabs a chair and sits down beside him.

“Wali, do you remember how you got injured?”

“In all honesty, Mr. Matthews, I do not.”

“You remember going to Afghanistan?”

“Of course.”

“And how about the two boys who ran after the football?”

“Is that something I should remember?”

“Kind of, because you did a very heroic thing. You ran into a minefield to save them.”

Wali’s smile wavers.

“Was the minefield where I had my accident?”

“Yes.”

“And were the two boys also hurt?”

“Because of you they weren’t.”

“That is a blessing.”

They hold each other’s gaze.

“Mines do nasty things, don’t they?” Wali says.

Charlie nods.

“You’re aware a mine killed my younger sister?”

“It was one of the first things you told me.”

Wali laughs.

“So I did. If I’m not mistaken I was trying to impress on you my experience with mines, and now I have even more experience, don’t I? More experience than I probably would wish for.”

“You sustained some injuries,” Charlie says.

“My eye is gone, I suspected that was the case.”

“Your eye’s going to be fine. It’s your legs‌—‌I’m sorry, but you’ve lost your right leg and your left foot.”

Wali’s smile falters, and then he begins laughing.

“Mr. Matthews, I have to tell you that you had me there for a second.”

“It’s the truth, Wali.”

“And what a magnificent job you did at keeping a straight face. But you see all this time I’ve been wiggling my toes, even now as we speak.”

“Your body still thinks they’re there but they aren’t.”

“Then be so kind as to show me.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I must insist. Please, show me.”

Charlie goes in search of another pillow. He finds one in a metal cabinet and uses it to prop Wali up. Charlie lifts away the blanket and stares at the floor. Anything not to witness Wali’s moment of truth.

“Thank you for doing that, Mr. Matthews.”

Charlie pulls the blanket back up. He looks over at Wali. Wali is still smiling.

“Well I don’t want to be keeping you. Will you give my kind regards to everyone back at Mine Aware?”

“I can stay, I’ve nowhere to be.”

“No, please, it’s best if you get back to the office. You’re a good friend, Mr. Matthews.”

Charlie takes Wali’s hand in his and squeezes it. He walks out and looks up and down the corridor. Doctor Halim’s nowhere to be seen.

When he returns to Mine Aware he finds the recruits lounging around the yard chatting. He decides to leave them be. In the sanctuary of his office, he calls the hospital and asks for Doctor Halim. A few minutes later he comes on the line.

“How can I help you, Mr. Matthews?” Doctor Halim says.

“Just checking in. See how’s he doing?”

“We just gave him a sedative. He’s been sobbing ever since you left.”

TWENTY-SIX

“HOE GAAT HET
met jou,” the woman on the tape says. She is fast becoming a familiar acquaintance.

“Goed, en met jou?” Noor replies.

At least I won’t make a fool of myself during the first ten seconds of the interview. That is if I get that far.