Rogue Predator Read Online Free

never do — whatever the threat. There’s too much at stake. And that means we mustn’t fail.”

CHAPTER SEVEN
Hassan escapes
A village outside Kandahar
    The Taliban crept silently from the hills and entered the village just after midnight. They knocked on Hassan’s uncle’s door and entered. Woken by the noise, Hassan hid under his blanket and listened.
    Hassan had only been at his uncle’s house for two days, when news of his father’s murder reached him. He had not spoken since, and refused to go to his new school. Instead, he wandered around his uncle’s farm, where he could cry on his own. On one occasion Hassan’s uncle had caught him crying in the house and beaten him for what Emil said was “weakness”. Emil told him coldly that what had happened to his father was merely punishment for working with the Americans. Hassan didn’t understand. His father hadn’t asked the Amercians to come. What if the Taliban in the next room were the same ones who’d slit his father’s throat? Had they come to do the same to him?
    Eventually, curiosity got the better of him. He tiptoed to within earshot. Then, carefully peeking through a hole in a curtain separating the rooms, he saw the infamous Taliban leader, Masud. In the lamplight Hassan could see his richly tanned face beneath a black turban, and skin so wrinkled it looked painful. His dark eyes frightened Hassan. He listened as his uncle pleaded.

    “But that’s not enough money to see me through the winter, Masud. All of my opium harvest and half my food stores for so little. Please, sir, a man must live. And I have an extra mouth to feed.”
    “An extra mouth? Explain,” Masud snapped.
    “My brother’s son, sir. He’s travelled here from the north to go to the school in Kandahar. His father was friendly with the American infidels and the Taliban there killed him, and everyone else in the village for his treachery. I am the only family the poor boy has now.”
    Masud spat a lump of half-chewed naan bread from his mouth and cursed. “The boy must die, too. Otherwise one day he will avenge his father’s death. Where is he?”
    Filled with renewed fright, Hassan cowered.
    “Allah have mercy. Please, sir, let the boy live… Anyway, I’ll need his help to harvest my poppy fields if I’m to have your opium ready in time for your return. Alone, it cannot be done. I’ll keep him off school to work the fields.”
    Masud stared thoughtfully at Emil. “Very well. Keep the boy here. He can help you deliver your harvest. We shall let him live until we return. Then he must die.”
    Hassan crept quickly to his room and gathered up his few possessions in a blanket. One thought occupied his head — to run away in case they changed their minds and decided to kill him now. He climbed out of his window and dropped softly onto the earth outside. Looking round he saw other Taliban on watch; one on the roof of a building opposite, one on the wall, another lurking in the alleyway. Keeping low, he ducked into the poppy fields, using the tall flower stems for cover. There he lay on his belly, trembling. And as he waited for the Taliban to go, a crushing reality dawned on him. He had nowhere to run. There was nobody he could trust. He was alone.
    As he watched the Taliban leave, his fear faded and was replaced by a growing anger. Men like them had ruined his life and murdered those he loved. He knew nothing would ever change while they roamed about spreading terror. Slowly his anger changed to thoughts of revenge. If he knew where the Taliban camp was, he could tell the Americans. They would come and get rid of them. That would be just revenge. Hassan knelt on his kness and offered up prayers; that Allah would protect him, that Allah would show him the way, that Allah would let him succeed. Carefully he got to his feet and began walking, following in the footsteps of the Taliban.

CHAPTER EIGHT
Painful memories
Camp Delta
    As well as Connor and his team, Camp Delta was