The Foreign Service Journal, June 2005

50 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / J U N E 2 0 0 5 F O C U S The staffer snapped his fingers without looking up, and the barman quickly filled Smitty’s glass to the brim. As he turned away, Smitty reached out and grabbed the bottle. “Here, Mustapha, leave that bottle. There’s a good swig or two left in there.” “So, they ate the jackal?” the staffer gripped Smitty’s forearm and he turned to face the young man. “Yes, they ate it. Everything was jolly-jolly with the group, though Fang Fang had positioned herself close to Klaus and slightly out of the circle. Suddenly the look-out fellow came running into the camp carrying the carcass of the jackal and flung it at Klaus’ feet. There was quite a stir-up then, lots of shouting and ges- turing, and it was evident the leader was getting more and more incensed. Finally he turned to Klaus. “You have dishonored us. You sat and watched us eat this unclean animal and you did nothing.” “I didn’t know,” stammered Klaus. “It was an hon- est mistake, I assure you.” “The harm is done. My men want you dead for this affront.” “Surely that cannot be. I am a German; I am here to help your people. I put up radio towers. I am a sim- ple man in my country.” He was babbling anything and everything that came to mind. Imagine an AK-47 pointed at you; you’d tell your life story or recite War and Peace if you thought it would buy you some time. Throughout all of this Fang Fang had not said a word — Klaus had offered them the meat, so maybe she thought she was not included in his trouble. “She’s German, too?” the leader asked, pointing at Fang Fang. “No, she’s Chinese. She cooked the jackal.” “Fang Fang hissed at Klaus then, and he threw up his arm to ward off a blow as she drew back her hand. “Take her.” The idea sprang into Klaus’ mind and to his lips unbidden. “She is a good worker. Take her, and I will never breathe a word of this, not of the jackal, not of her.” “The leader turned to look at Fang Fang and his eyes glittered in the firelight. A foreign woman could be valuable. The ransom for her would be sizable or she would be a trophy for his household, putting him one up over his fellow khans. “Done,” he said, and offered Klaus his hand on the deal as he had seen farenghees do with each other. “Ahmad will take you to the nearest road. Goodbye, German. You better hope you do not meet anyone else tonight because you have nothing left to trade for your life a second time.” He translated this to his followers and they all laughed appreciatively at his wit. Fang Fang did not catch on then to what was happening. She thought they were taking Klaus out to shoot him. She began screaming, a high-pitched, tinny sort of cry. It was the last thing Klaus heard from her, and he always wondered what she thought when the realiza- tion sank in that he had left her behind intentionally. “An Afghan is good at his word, and Klaus was taken to a hard-topped road. He didn’t know where he was or which way to start walking. He thought it must be the one road in Pakistan without any cars, donkey carts or buses. Eventually a bus did come along and gave him a lift to Landi Kotal. That’s on the border, so there is no telling exactly where he and Fang Fang had been in the tribal areas. He called his mates from border police headquarters but they had to wait until daylight to nip out the 40 miles or so to Landi and bring him back to Peshawar. No one ever asked about Fang Fang. It was not until one night when Klaus was in his cups that he let slip what had happened to her. That’s when we knew.” “Knew?” “Knew something was going to happen to the Germans.” “But, how did you know they were going to be kid- napped?” “I didn’t know they were going to be kidnapped exactly, but I knew one way or another Fang Fang would get Klaus, and his friends. Ah, yes,” Smitty went on, “there’s more than one way to skin a cat, and more than one way to cook a jackal.” n He thought it must be the one road in Pakistan without any cars, donkey carts or buses.