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the pilot must
    have crashed in the plane.’ ‘Only five on the plane?’ Captain asked. ‘What kind of plane was that?’ ‘A DC3.’ Captain seemed to think he’d caught me in a lie. He drummed the pliers on the edge of his desk and
    smiled. ‘A DC3 all the way from London. That’s a long way for such a little plane,’ he said. ‘No, not all the way.’ ‘So, tell me exactly how you got here.’ ‘Air France from London to Paris, then another plane to the capital and then the DC3 from the cargo
    terminal.’ ‘What is the time zone difference between London and here?’ ‘There isn’t one,’ I said. Captain furrowed his brow, searching for another way to catch me out. ‘What’s the name of the river that runs through the middle of London?’ ‘The Thames.’ I said. ‘Give me your training shoe.’ I slid my Nike off my foot and handed it over. Captain pulled out the tongue and read the size label. ‘UK size, European size,’ Captain said. ‘Give me your t-shirt.’ I handed the bloody shirt over the table. Captain inspected the label sewn in the neck, then showed it
    to me. ‘What is this word Jake?’ ‘Marylebone,’ I said. Captain read part of the label. His English wasn’t bad. ‘Size: small man. Made in Turkey for BHS Limited, 129-137 Marylebone Road London, NW1 5QD,
    England.’ He threw the shirt across the desk at me, then rolled up the torture stuff and put it back in his desk. ‘So,’ he said, smiling. ‘You really did fall out of the sky and you’ve not been sent here as a government
    spy.’ I smiled with relief, ‘No way.’ ‘So, you want to go home?’ ‘Course. Maybe I should recover here for a day, then you can take me to the police or whatever.’ Captain laughed noisily, ‘You think it’s that simple? We drop you at the local airport and they fly you
    home.’ ‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘Things don’t work like that here.’ ‘I realise you’re rebels and you don’t want to be caught,’ I said. ‘You can point me in the right direction
    and I’ll walk.’ ‘We’re a guerrilla unit operating deep inside government territory. There’s no police force here, just us rebels and the army. The army will ask you for identity papers, which you don’t have. I doubt they’ll believe your aeroplane crashed; everyone without papers makes some sort of excuse. They will assume you’re an antigovernment rebel. If you’re lucky, the army will shoot you on the spot. If you’re unlucky, they’ll beat and torture you until you give the location of this camp away.’ I wasn’t sure how much to trust Captain. ‘So how can I get home?’ I asked. ‘We’re cut off from everyone except a few other rebel units. The only way back to the capital is by road or aeroplane. There are army roadblocks every few kilometres. The nearest landing strip is at an army base 400 kilometres away, but it’s under heavy guard.’ ‘So what can I do?’ ‘You can stay here with us. We’ll feed and protect you. You can do chores around camp. Once we trust
    you, you will be expected to fight, the same as everyone else.’ ‘But I don’t want to stay here. Maybe I should take my chances with the army.’ Captain suddenly looked serious, ‘You’ve seen our camp. If the army locates us here, they’ll kill us. We
    can’t allow you leave here alive.’ ‘So, what? I’m stuck here forever?’ ‘No,’ Captain said. ‘At the moment were cut off from our allies in the east, but the situation changes all the time. When there is an opportunity for you to leave without endangering our security, I promise not to stop you.’ ‘How long will that be?’ I asked. Captain shrugged, ‘Could be a few weeks or a few years. It could be never.’ ‘Jesus,’ I said. ‘And what about my brother?’ ‘How old is he?’
    ‘Eight.’ ‘We have allies who might have taken him in, and there are a few civilians who might look after him,
    but it’s most likely he was picked up by the army.’ ‘And