The Road to Afghanistan - George Washington University

neighboring Pakistan to become a refugee. Everything was possible.***In the evening, after his last meeting with the resident, Starostin organized a latedinner at the shish kebab restaurant in the center of Kabul with his wife and friends—faculty of the Kabul Polytechnic Institute. It was the month of Ramadan, when the Afghansenjoyed their special meals with the arrival of darkness. While Starostin’s company wasenjoying juicy Afghan kebabs, sprinkling crushed grape seeds and pouring pomegranatejuice on the meat, Valery left for a minute to place a call to Gulabzoi from a publictelephone. The minister took the call himself. Valery could hear laughter of children and thevoice of a woman, trying to calm the children down, in the background. Valery, in veryvague terms, reminded the minister about his conversation with a blonde Soviet diplomatat yesterday’s reception. Then he proposed to meet next evening at 7:30 p.m. near one ofthe restaurants in the center of Kabul. Gulabzoi asked Valery if he was an Afghan. “No, I ama close friend of the person with whom you spoke yesterday.”“I will come,” responded the minister.The next day Valery arrived for the meeting dressed as a teacher from an Afghanelementary school. He wore old trousers, a wrinkled denim shirt, and cheap, worn outshoes. His expensive sunglasses were a detail that did not fit the image. Valery parked hisgray Volga not far from the meeting place. He was slowly pacing the street waiting forGulabzoi to arrive. In a couple of minutes a light-colored Toyota Corolla parked in thestreet. A man who looked similar in figure and moustache to the minister got out of the car.Once the Toyota took off, Valery quickly approached the man.“Hello, Mr. Gulabzoi,” Valery greeted the man. “Let’s not go to the restaurant because478