Samarkand Hijack

‘How did you get into this work?’ he asked.

‘It’s in the family blood,’ she said. ‘My grandmother was in the Chekas during the Revolution.’

‘Tell me about her,’ Marat said.

She glanced across at him. ‘It’s ancient history,’ she said. ‘Why would you be interested?’

‘It’s going to be a long ride,’ he said. ‘Humour me.’

She shrugged. ‘She was my mother’s mother. Her name was Rahima Asankulova. She was the wife of one of the first Uzbek Bolsheviks, a very young wife. Of course he treated her like any Uzbek husband treated his wife in those days, and in 1921, when she was only about nineteen – she never knew exactly which year she was born in – she ran away to Moscow, to the headquarters of the Party women’s organization, the Zhenotdel. There was a big fuss, but six months later she came back as a Zhenotdel worker, one of the first in Central Asia. You know what they went through?’

‘I imagine they weren’t too popular.’

‘That’s an understatement if ever I heard one. They campaigned against the veil, and for an end to the selling of brides, and in favour of education for women…the usual. Some were stoned to death, some were thrown down wells, one woman was actually chopped up. All these murders were committed by fellow family members, of course.’

Glancing to his left, Marat could see her staring angrily ahead.

‘And your grandmother?’

‘She survived until the thirties, then died giving birth in one of Stalin’s prisons.’

‘To your mother?’

‘No, she was born in 1928. She worked for the Party too, though not for the KGB. She was a union representative for the Tashkent textile workers. She’s retired now, but she still lives in Tashkent…’

She broke off as two headlights appeared round a bend in the mountain road.

‘It’s a lorry,’ Marat said, rummaging in his pockets. A hand emerged holding a tube of mints. He offered her one.

She took it, wondering if she had been wrong earlier in assuming that the mint on his breath had been a cover for the smell of alcohol.

‘I’ve just given up smoking,’ he said, as if in answer to her unspoken question.

‘Good idea,’ she said.

He rearranged himself in the seat and asked her why she had joined the KGB.

She was silent for a few moments. ‘I think the main reason was that I couldn’t think of an alternative,’ she said eventually.

‘You’re joking…’

‘No. I got accepted at Moscow University, and could hardly believe my luck. I really wanted to get out of Tashkent. To get out of Central Asia, full stop.’

‘Why? You’re Uzbek…’

‘An Uzbek woman. I don’t expect any Uzbek man to understand…but for anyone brought up the way I was there’s not many chances of fulfilment in this culture.’

‘So why did you come back?’

‘I missed the place.’ She laughed. ‘But that’s only part of the story. I don’t know how you feel about what’s happened in the last few years…’

‘Ambivalent, I suppose.’

‘That sounds about right. I hated it in Moscow – it was so obvious there that the system only worked for a few people at the top. Back here it was different. Oh, I know it was far from perfect, and every time I turn on the TV now there seems to be some new horror story about what’s been done to the environment, but…well, look at the place compared to what it was before the Revolution. We have education for everyone, and health care…’

‘I saw what this place must have been like before the Revolution,’ Marat said. ‘In Afghanistan.’

‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘I guess I wanted to preserve some of what had been achieved.’

‘And the KGB seemed the best place?’

‘One of the best. Advances in things like women’s rights are enshrined in the state law. Which is what we’re supposed to protect, among other things.’

‘You’re not too worried about the other things?’

‘If you mean locking up fundamentalists, no I’m not. They’re not interested in democracy.’

‘What would you do if they came to power?’

‘Leave, I expect. What would you do?’ Islamic Republics were alcohol-free zones, after all.

‘Probably the same. Though I’ve no idea where I’d go. America maybe, if there was a way to get in.’

‘If they declared an Islamic Republic here I expect the West would bend over backwards to take in political refugees.’

He grunted with amusement. ‘Maybe I should be voting for the bastards. If we ever get another vote, that is. As our beloved President is so fond of pointing out: “Do not destroy your old house until you have built another.”’

‘Makes sense to me,’ Nurhan observed.

‘Maybe. But only if people are allowed to start work on the new house. Bakalev is putting anyone who tries in prison.’

She looked at him. ‘You’ve given up hope, have you?’

He smiled. ‘Let’s just say I’m not expecting too much from the next few years.’ He put his hands in his pockets to conceal the fact that the left hand had begun to shake. Looking out of the Volga’s window at the mountains and star-filled sky he had the sudden conviction that the ancient Greeks had got it wrong – Orion was holding a bottle opener, not a sword.

Simon Kennedy had left Tashkent about half an hour after Nurhan and Marat’s departure from Samarkand. The main road between the two cities wasn’t bad, and he reckoned he would be in Samarkand not much later than two in the morning. He didn’t expect there would be a great deal he could do before daylight, but at least he would be on the spot.

Driving, in any case, was something he always enjoyed, especially at night. He had done quite a lot of it lately, usually with Janice, who seemed much more happy indulging her sexual appetite in some desert lay-by than in either of their rooms at the Hotel Uzbekistan. Kennedy wasn’t complaining, though he did sometimes wonder what the local police would make of it if the two of them were ever caught in the act.

Janice had a brain, though, and he was inclined to trust her judgement in this business with Sarah Holcroft. There probably was something funny going on in Samarkand. Either way, he supposed he would know by morning.

The tour bus had been travelling for slightly more than three hours when it finally reached its destination. Its occupants had seen no other vehicles during the journey, and passed not a single light, either beside the road or off in the distance. They could have been driving across the moon.

‘Please stay in your seats,’ Nasruddin said.

‘Until the plane has come to a complete stop,’ Docherty added under his breath. He wondered if there had ever been such a courteous hijack as this one.

‘The women will leave the bus first,’ Nasruddin told them. ‘They will have separate quarters from the men.’ There was a muted wail of fright from Elizabeth Ogley at this news.