Sands of Redemption

22

A couple of hours before dinner, as she lay in her cot staring up at the ceiling, thinking of her mother, thinking of death, she received a knock at her door. An actual knock.

Georgia frowned. It must be Rashida. But Rashida didn't knock. 'Um, come in?'

Georgia sat up with a start as a man entered. He was older than usual, maybe in his mid-thirties. Most of the Mujahideen she had so far encountered were even younger than herself, not including the Sheikh of course. He was tall for an Abassan but just as lean. Unusually, he was dressed only in simple pants and a vested shirt, so much less intimidating than the usual martial get-up the rest of the Mujahideen liked to wear.

Leaving the door ajar, he sat on the rug and put his lantern to the side, crossing his long legs. He had a short, neat beard and a long strong nose. He acknowledged her from across the room with a pair of deep jade eyes.

'My name is Khalid, I have been told you need to speak with me,' he said.

'Uh ...' Georgia couldn't believe it; Rashida actually pulled through? 'Yeah ...?'

He gestured for her to sit.

Georgia sat awkwardly on the edge of the rug, as far away from him as she could get. She thought she recognised him now. He was the man the Sheikh had embraced that frightful day. It didn't help her nerves.

He waited.

'Uh ... like I t-told that woman, I've been here several days and I have no idea what's going on.' She paused. He nodded for her to continue. 'I don't even know why I'm here.'

She paused again, her mind infuriatingly empty. She'd had so many questions only moments before, and now, suddenly, she couldn't remember any of them.

'You are right to be angry,' he said after a long silence. 'As our guest these things should have been explained to you.' Georgia blinked. He thought she was a guest? 'First of all let's be clear: you are not our enemy. You are here as part of Abassa's revolution. That is all. It was not our aim to hurt anyone. You are merely a means to an end. My brothers and sisters are suffering, my country dying, so the time for talking is over. We must make war and as always in war people will suffer.'

He spoke English flawlessly, with barely an accent. Only Natalie spoke so well. Not even Hana could have matched his skill.

Georgia lifted her chin, a rock swelling in her throat. 'But I don't understand, why am I the only one you intend to kill?'

'We, the Mujahideen, want to make an example of you. We want to show the rest of our countrymen that behaviour like yours is not acceptable.'

Georgia bit at her lip. 'You're referring to Qasim Yousef.'

'Yes.'

Her voice was quiet with rage. 'That's not fair.'

'Life isn't fair. If it were, we wouldn't need this war.'

Georgia grabbed her knees. 'Is there nothing I can do to save myself?'

'No. Your life is not up for negotiation.'

Georgia stared, the rock in her throat threatening to break. Her eyes felt hot.

'Are there any more questions?'

'What if I told you that Ali was in love with me and would pay you any amount you wanted to keep me alive?'

Khalid frowned. 'Then you might have a chance. But only if he does not pay up for the others and only for a substantial sum. Ultimately, you are a kafir and more valuable to our cause dead than alive.'