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spread them
sufficiently for Bill to see the pistol on one hip and the knife on the other.
“OK,” he continued, “we will wait until the target leaves the hotel. I expect
him to go to the office on Shash Darak ,
but let’s wait and see. Go back to your vehicle and position to see me at the
hotel, and follow.”
    Bill gave him descriptions of his vehicle and Wood’s vehicle and the
registration numbers.
    “I am glad you can help me with this,” he thanked Gorbat and returned to
the hotel to wait on Wood.
    Wood was visible in the dining room behind the lobby having breakfast so
Bill quickly collected the tracker control unit from his room and made his way
to his car. Not to be conspicuous, he drove out of the hotel carpark and parked
up the street, across from the hotel, so that he had a view of both the hotel
entrance and the carpark. In his rear-view mirror he saw Gorbat pull in to the
kerb, in a battered and dusty white Toyota.
    An hour later, Wood’s four-wheel drive pulled out of the hotel carpark
and drove directly to the office on Shash Darak without stopping at the Internet café. Bill lifted
the top of the tracker control unit and witnessed the GPS connection show him
as the blue blip, and soon afterwards the T-1 red blip of Wood going up Shash Darak road in front of him.
Bill grunted in satisfaction that the tracker worked.
    Bill pulled into a side street and was followed by Gorbat. He walked
around the back with Gorbat following some distance back to be a little less
conspicuous to any onlookers. They met up again at the rear door of the
observation post.
    Gorbat looked around the room and glanced out of the curtains to get a
feel for the environment, then climbed on to the table and took a seat in the
wicker chair.
    “A good position, assayyid Bill. Are
there any other entrances to the office across the way?”
    Bill said, “There probably is a back entrance but there is no reason to
assume that Wood will sneak in and out. There is no way he can know we are
watching. His four-wheel-drive is parked at the front. It should be O.K.”
    Gorbat took out his mobile and said into it “On station, Shash Darak .”
    Bill smiled confident of Gorbat’s competence
and left.

Chapter Four
    Bill pulled up the first of his emailed alerts from the Bicep intercepts and logged in. He quickly found it was easier to browse through the Bicep directory file log on the system than to read through all the individual
emails. There was a large list of files showing date, time, type, intercept
number and other codes he did not immediately recognise. He listened to the
voice files first. They were mostly boring and routine conversations about
administrivia and expense claims, “What a surprise,” Bill thought, but nothing
that sounded remotely sinister or relevant to Abu Ukasha .
    Then he looked at the Internet logs. The history file of Wood’s browsing
included porn, expensive looking power boat retailer sites and English
newspapers of both left and right political persuasions. “Very ecumenical of
you,” Bill said aloud to himself. He looked at some of the newspaper articles
that Wood had read but they all seemed to be current affairs and popular press
pieces with no conceivable connection to anything in Afghanistan.
    He started on the email traffic. There was virtually nothing outbound. A
reply to an admin at IRM in London confirming the date and time of a dental
appointment in London three weeks hence implied that Wood expected to be back
in England soon. He thought that worth a note and spoke briefly into his
mobile.
    A couple of ‘unsubscribes’ to power boat magazines. An
IRM expense claim with an attachment. He sighed, thinking that the world
was ruled by accountants and clicked the link to see the claim details. Airline
tickets from London Heathrow to Kabul dated two weeks ago; food and
accommodation at the Ariana; a mobile phone bill; a subscription fee for ‘ Soldier
of Fortune’ magazine and a bill for