‘Speak to Saracen, tell them you’ve got a Vectis employee here.’ I gave him a number to call. He walked off. I was left watching the vines in the tabletop and feeling the tickle of the gun on me. So I’d been picked up by a new militia. More men with nowhere left to go except into new zones of conflict. Army of exiles. The future: swarms of mercs and militias chasing each other around the globe like weather systems, a constant rumbling in the background as we lock down air-conned shopping malls, and wait for the coffee to run out.

Satayev came back ten minutes later. I don’t know who he spoke to, or what was exchanged, but he seemed open, keener.

‘They say you should go back to Astana.’

‘Who does?’

‘Saracen.’

‘Is that right.’

‘I said I’d help.’

He told me about jets I could use, then we talked supply routes for equipment. I said I could get small arms to Uzbekistan. Moving them on was the difficulty.

‘Taraz airfield,’ I suggested.

‘We don’t have access to it any more.’

‘Sigma got it already?’

‘Yes.’

Things were moving fast, and strategically.

‘On the ground then,’ I suggested. ‘Tashkent to Shymkent to Taraz.’

‘Maybe. We can try. What about Reza Nikfar? Are the Americans with you on this?’

‘This is a different situation to last time, Akan. I need you to understand that. I may not be in such a strong position.’

‘Yet you are in a position to endanger your life and be saved by me.’

My pose was convincing, and had kept me alive so far, but it wasn’t a roleplay I could back out of easily.

‘Saracen have given me their guarantee.’

‘Then we need to be clear on styles: no suicide bombs, no beheadings. No bearded men on YouTube waving rifles.’

‘I understand.’

Did he? We exchanged secure means of communication. I asked where I was.

‘Glukhovka.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘North-east. I can arrange a flight to Astana. I have contacts in Astana who can collect from you.’

I was a hostage, essentially. But it was the only way I was going to get out of here. And I’d been in Satayev’s jets before. They had coffee machines. Things like that can help you feel immortal.

‘Checks at the other end?’

‘Not for an internal flight. Not with my set-up. I have jets in Semey or Pavlodar. Pavlodar is probably safer right now.’

‘What’s the news from Semey?’

‘Twenty dead. More protests.’

‘Twenty dead?’

‘So it seems.’

‘I’d like to take a look.’

‘It’s on the edge of going very bad.’

‘Give me an hour in the town. I heard it has a Dostoevsky museum.’

‘A Dostoevsky museum?’

‘I thought I’d check it out while I’m in the area.’

FORTY-SIX