Private Rogue

Chapter 64

The border patrol officers who staffed the station had taken our weapons. Their commanding officer, a Major Azar Khan, spoke excellent English and told us we were to be held until he had contacted his superiors. Floyd and I were taken to a holding room in the largest of the three buildings at the post. There was one structure on the Afghan side, but it was unmanned and looked abandoned.

The building we were in was constructed from whitewashed cinder blocks and contained six rooms: an office, a staff room, a bunk room, kitchen, toilet, and a holding room. Located at the back of the building, it wasn’t a cell, but it wasn’t far off. A trio of double bunks lined the windowless interior walls and a small electric heater struggled against the cold.

Floyd and I sat on bunks near the heater, trying to absorb as much of its pathetic warmth as possible. We’d attempted to persuade Major Khan to give us access to a phone, but the Pakistani commander refused. He was very aware of how easily two American strays hunted by Russian paramilitaries could quickly escalate into a huge diplomatic incident if everything wasn’t done by the book.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?” Floyd asked.

I shrugged. I knew how slowly the wheels of bureaucracy could move. I was desperate to get to a phone so I could let Justine know I was still alive, and I had no doubt Floyd was itching to talk to Beth.

I heard raised voices beyond the locked door, and then footsteps. A key went into the lock and the door opened to reveal Major Khan. His gray-flecked moustache drooped with disappointment. There was an overwhelming air of apology about him.

“Are we done?” I asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “There was—”

He was pushed aside by the familiar figure of the Russian commander. He had a blond crew cut and stood about six-three, looming over the Pakistani officer, who shrank against the wall of the holding room.

“My name is Nikita Kolokov,” the Russian said. “You are now my prisoners. You will come with us.”

Two of his subordinates moved into the corridor behind him and he barked a command at them in Russian. I didn’t need to speak the language to understand the order: I was to be killed.