When Leo had opposed rushing into the market without even knowing what the suspect looked like the captain had chided him, pointing out that in Afghanistan they couldn’t behave as the KGB had done in Leo’s time, making arrests at four in the morning when everyone was asleep. It would appear to the enemy as a feminine act of deception and subterfuge. If they wanted to subdue Afghanistan they needed to demonstrate bravery, courage and audacity. Guile and slyness were vices here, not virtues. A public display of justice in one of the busiest roundabouts in the city would be a robust and proportionate response to the savagery of last night’s murders. As for the danger of resistance within the crowd, the captain did not see this as a problem. He went as far as to hope that the enemy would show themselves. Let them take up arms. They would be killed.

Without a photograph, they knew only that the suspect owned a wagon normally found at this roundabout, selling a variety of typical Afghan sweets, dried fruit and sugared and honey-coated nuts. As a suspect profile, it was one of the worst Leo had encountered. According to some, Dost Mohammad was twenty-five years old, according to others he was thirty. Since many men didn’t know how to count, an age was often chosen as a signifier of appearance. Leo would have to strike up a conversation, assess whether the man was Dost Mohammad. He was then to return to the team waiting nearby, allowing them to storm the market and make the arrest. It was presumed that no one would be suspicious of a man in green flip-flops with the telltale signs of opium use in his eyes and face. Leo wasn’t so sure.

Searching for the stall, Leo assessed the problems. It would be impossible to secure the area: there were countless exits even with a large team of reinforcements. There were many vantage points for the enemy. There might be lookouts. The suspect had been working here for many years. He knew the market dynamic, the ebb and flow of customers; he would have an instinct for when something was wrong. Leo decided to make a purchase to seem a little less out of place. One old man sold nothing but eggs, cartons stacked high. He showemarkable composure despite the frantic bustle around him threatening to bring his stock crashing to the ground. At a fruit stall Leo bought pomegranates, and was handed the thinnest of plastic bags that stretched with the weight of fruit – the last batch of the season. He’d almost completed a full circuit of the market. There was only the north end of the roundabout remaining.