Leo had underestimated the bond between Nara and the party. She’d chosen the State over him, ignoring his advice, ignoring her own moral code – one that he knew she had. He would not allow her to make the same mistakes he had as an agent. She had made one already, showing no mercy to the deserting couple. But from this there would be no going back; she would be changed, like plastic warped in heat, unable ever to return to its previous shape. The conflicting forces were powerful. She was loyal to the party, loyal to the State. The State was her family now and Leo’s kiss last night had confirmed what she already knew. No Afghan man would ever marry her. She would be alone, hated by her community, protected only by the captain and men like him. Her life depended upon the occupation. If the Soviets lost the war, then she would die with them. Leo’s position, neither a Soviet nor an Afghan, offered her nothing.

Gripping her hand, he said:

—Nara, let’s go.

She shook his hand free, pointing at the young girl and addressing the captain in awkward Russian.

—The child.

The captain’s impatience disappeared and his attention focused on the young girl, walking up to her, studying her. It took him no more than a few seconds to realize her significance. Leo cried out:

—Leave her alone!

He put a hand on the captain&rsshoulder. The captain stood up sharply, striking Leo with the butt of his gun.

—Why do you think I came here personally, Leo Demidov? Why do you think I didn’t trust anyone else with this mission? I’m the only one prepared to do what needs to be done. Another man might’ve taken a look at this girl and not seen how dangerous she is. An enemy drugged on superstition will continue fighting even when they’re guaranteed to lose. This girl could cost hundreds of Soviet lives. She could cost thousands of Afghans their lives. Your mercy would result in far more bloodshed.