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Back A Shadow Intelligence Save as PDF
Chapters (58)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Oliver Harris
  3. ONE
  4. TWO
  5. THREE
  6. FOUR
  7. FIVE
  8. SIX
  9. SEVEN
  10. EIGHT
  11. NINE
  12. TEN
  13. ELEVEN
  14. TWELVE
  15. THIRTEEN
  16. FOURTEEN
  17. FIFTEEN
  18. SIXTEEN
  19. SEVENTEEN
  20. EIGHTEEN
  21. NINETEEN
  22. TWENTY
  23. TWENTY-ONE
  24. TWENTY-TWO
  25. TWENTY-THREE
  26. TWENTY-FOUR
  27. TWENTY-FIVE
  28. TWENTY-SIX
  29. TWENTY-SEVEN
  30. TWENTY-EIGHT
  31. TWENTY-NINE
  32. THIRTY
  33. THIRTY-ONE
  34. THIRTY-TWO
  35. THIRTY-THREE
  36. THIRTY-FOUR
  37. THIRTY-FIVE
  38. THIRTY-SIX
  39. THIRTY-SEVEN
  40. THIRTY-EIGHT
  41. THIRTY-NINE
  42. FORTY
  43. FORTY-ONE
  44. FORTY-TWO
  45. FORTY-THREE
  46. FORTY-FOUR
  47. FORTY-FIVE
  48. FORTY-SIX
  49. FORTY-SEVEN
  50. FORTY-EIGHT
  51. FORTY-NINE
  52. FIFTY
  53. FIFTY-ONE
  54. FIFTY-TWO
  55. FIFTY-THREE
  56. FIFTY-FOUR
  57. FIFTY-FIVE
  58. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

It looked like a village in the distance, with low, brown buildings. As I got closer I saw it was a cemetery, mud tombs surrounded by a low metal fence. Not a soul in sight.

I left the car by the fence and walked in. Graves were snow-capped, some domed, others square mausoleums of stone or clay. That was what had made me think it was a town. The graves were carved with images of camels and swords and inscriptions in Arabic. Poles jutted out of the snow, tied with bundles of horse hair. A low tree in the centre shrieked with coloured rags that had been wound around its dead branches.

Families had cleared snow from some of the graves. A path had been dug to a small brick mosque with barred windows and a crude water pump beside its door. A few hundred metres behind the mosque were the low concrete ruins of a collective farm.

I knocked at the door of the mosque, then turned back towards the cemetery and considered my next move. A few hundred metres to the right of where I’d parked there was a glint of what looked like water. Which was impossible. I walked over. As I got closer I saw it was something hard, reflective: a panel of grey metal. I kicked it with the toe of my boot. I thought it was a car door, and wondered how it had become detached, then realised it was the car’s roof and it hadn’t.

Heart thumping, I went back to the mosque, knocking hard on the door. When no one answered I pulled on the handle and it opened. I walked in, looking for a shovel. A figure moved. It was an old man, head shrouded, face sunken. A caretaker of some kind; scared.

I tried various languages before realising he was deaf. I mimed digging, then pointed out, towards my car. That did the trick. He disappeared into the shadows and came back with an ancient-looking spade. He followed me, and seemed curious when I started digging.

The Chevy Equinox sat in what must once have been a hollow. There was a ridge of earth on at least two sides. These would have obscured the car from the road, but also left it exposed to the east – the direction that the snow had blown in – and had served as a trap.

After ten minutes digging I had the top of a window. I crouched to try and see through but it was too dark inside. The caretaker watched as I dug furiously. I shone my phone light through the glass, couldn’t see anything. When I had another few inches of window exposed I took the shovel and smashed the glass in.