Team members had begun to think that Habibullah had gone mad. First, he started the expedition when the winter was at its peak. Second, rather than travelling during day, he had chosen to travel only in the nights, after it was dark and till the first rays of sun started to appear. Despite the fact that everyone had state of the art protective clothing, night travel was something that affected the psyche of troupe.

When the first murmurs of objections to night travel began, Habibullah called for a meeting and informed them in a low and menacing voice that they all would be remembering this particular expedition for the rest of their lives, in case they return alive. That, or they would immediately reach their jannat. The criticality of the expedition may help understand why they travelled only during nights. The team was finally convinced, and they began fantasising about seven virgins waiting for them in jannat during their morning sleeps. Despite convincing his team, Habibullah felt this precaution was only reducing his pace. But, as an obedient soldier he followed orders. Moreover, there may be a mole in his team who reported to the bosses.

It’s been a week since they started journey.

Just a day before New Year’s Eve, he received orders to start. He was told to explore the Kilik Pass for caves that ran deep into the earth. At first, he was surprised; he had never heard of the Kilik Pass. He was given a map by the courier. The courier was an old man - probably retired from the Pakistani army. He travelled in an air-conditioned Toyota car, right up to the cave of Habibullah, whom he knew for more than a decade.

It was about three in the morning and Habibullah was sleeping peacefully, resting his head between the warm bosoms of his wives. One of his mujahedeen came to wake him up, announcing a visitor from the Bosses. Cursing, Habibullah got up to receive the visitor. The old man came inside and sat near the fireplace. Smoking a cigar, he asked Habibullah to have a private discussion. He sipped coffee made by the youngest wife of the house and opened his briefcase. He counted one hundred gold coins that weighed fifty grams each. The eyes of womenfolk in the cave glowed more than the gold itself. Habibullah was not impressed. He did a quick calculation and put the value of gold to nearly two hundred thousand dollars. No, this was not sufficient for his last job.

He asked the courier what the job was. “Go to Kilik Pass and look for underground caves that run at least a mile into the mountain.”

“Where is the Kilik Pass?”

“Cross into Pakistan from Wakhan. It is only a few miles from the border.”

“What to do after finding the cave?”

“Nothing. Come back. But remember the way to the cave. You may have to go again.”

“Why look for a cave there? We have many here,” for the first time, Habibullah posed a query, albeit keeping his tone as submissive as possible. One should not bark at the feeding hand.

The courier man stared at Habibullah. Puffing on his cigar deeply, he asked in a low tone, “I don’t remember you asking the reason for any job that you have executed so far. Did you forget that your job is not to plan, but to execute?”

“Well, I just was joking,” Habibullah tried to cover up his slip of tongue, “Some more coffee,” he snapped at one of the women who brought forward the kettle and poured some more black.

“Then, I think it is over,” the courier blew over the hot liquid to feel steam on his face. “Any more questions?”

“No,” Habibullah answered in a single syllable.

“Good. I have instructions. Reach Fayzabad in small groups. Get rations for a longer time, for one or two months. Leave Fayzabad again in small groups and meet on the way to Wakhan. Be careful. Once you leave Fayzabad, you hardly see villages. Those passes are harder than the passes in this area. Try to get through as traders. Don’t cause any suspicions among the local authorities. Be clear of the administration. Come to Peshawar after return. I expect you there in the second week of February,” he put down the cup and got up to leave.

Habibullah accompanied him to the vehicle. He asked slowly, “What about compensation? I am getting old. This may be my last job. And this seems riskier,” he paused, expecting an answer. The old man put his hand across Habibullah’s shoulder.

“I know you are really getting old, and that this job would be tedious and will leave you weaker. But, don’t you worry. On finding the cave, you’ll get five hundred coins and after finishing the job, another thousand five hundred coins. You may not need more than that. Insha Allah, you may retire peacefully.” He got into the vehicle and left.

On the first day of 2028, Habibullah left with his battalion of mujahedeen, and it took three days to reach Fayzabad, where it took two more days to organise rations and transport. He made five groups of five people and twenty mules divided amongst them, and they all left separately in various directions. They all met the next evening, nearly halfway to Baharak, a village where there was something they called a road. After Baharak, they would have the luxury of experiencing the ancient style of travel. Though they could cross Baharak in another two days, average speed had reduced since then. After crossing Baharak, Habibullah enforced the night journey plan.

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