Nara’s recruitment was recent, part of the reformation of the Afghan secret police instigated less than three months ago. The previous organization, KAM, had been notorious, a cabal of butchers and sadists who pursued no greater purpose and served no ideology. She would never have worked for them. The dark days of their rule were over. A new president promised an era of restraint and probity. The Soviets were intent on developing her country into a great nation, as great as the USSR itself. Nara wanted to play her part in that development. The neighbouring Uzbek Soviet Socialist republic could boast of a population that was one hundred per cent literate. In Afghanistan only ten per cent of men could read and only two per cent of women. Life expectancy was forty years, compared to seventy in Uzbekistan. Almost half of all children died before reaching the age of five. No one could claim the status quo was worth preserving. In order to achieve these breakthroughs radical changes were needed. Opposition was inevitable. For progress to stand any chance people like her were needed to protect the regime. Vigilance was required against those who sought to cling on to the past. There were regions of Afghanistan that were locked in a way of life that hadn’t changed for thousands of years and consequently there had been and would continue to be dissent against any reforms. That was inevitable. Unfortunately, there would be loss of life. That was regrettable. In the city of Herat last year there had been an uprising against the compulsory education of women. Soviet advisers working in the city had been dragged into the streets and beheaded, their mutilated bodies paraded in a grotesque display. The only solution was a bombing campaign and the deaths of many civilians before the uprising was tamed. Violence was a necessary tool. She was sure these outbursts of bloody resistance were orchestrated by a few key influential traditionalist elements, men who would gladly see her stoned for taking a job, wearing a uniform. By isolating those dissidents many thousands of lives would ultimately be saved and the lives of many millions would be vastly improved.

She checked her watch. With still no sign of Comrade Demidov, she flicked through the pages in her exercise book, reading over the collection of quotes:

Ideas are more powerful than guns. We would not let our

enemies have guns, why should we let them have ideas?