Blood Lily Company - Afghanistan, year 1

XL

A few days later, we were, once again, lying flat on our stomach in the earth, near Durrani's stud farm. Twilight had already come and gone, we were starting to feel the cold from staying still.

We had approached the farm with the Land-Rover and four bikes, and we had finished approaching on foot. We had lighter outfits for tonight: only heavy helmet and bulletproof vest, plus handgun. And throat mic, of course. But we had to keep radio silent once inside.

Tito, Baby Jane and I were going to enter the stud farm and steal the Akhal-Teke stallion.

Baby Jane had baby carrots in her pocket, from our vegetable patch, and a makeshift halter, made from a simple rope that would prevent Duran Duran from tracking it back to its source to find the perpetrator.

Tito had a ketamine injector, which calmed horses and humans alike. Doc had set it to put any human that would saw us to sleep, even if we had to avoid being spotted at all cost. It would only be used on the horse if we encountered difficulties. Tito was also carrying night vision goggles.

I had some rags with me, to wrap around the horse's feet to silence his step. A pair of coated cotton gloves, a brush and a pot of a natural but persistent hair dye made by Lin. And a can of oil, just in case.

The brothers would come with us to a certain point and then go on to fulfill their mission: prepare the place where the horse would be tied, a few meters from the gate. Kris carried a small bag of oats and Erik a plastic tub that had seen better days and a 40-liters jerrycan of water. Weighing 40kg. But he's perfectly able to carry that, even though he looked a bit like a turtle standing on its hind legs. A big turtle.

And the five of us carried, tied to our belt, a small bag of coarse and loosely woven canvas filled with almost dry dung (fortunately...) from the stud – which deposited the manure outside, where Duran Duran's trucks came to pick it up for the poppy fields. So we used it. The smell from the semi-dry dung would hide our own and make our return in the Land-Rover more bearable for everyone.

At three in the morning, the hardest hour for the sentries, we started our approach.

Our comrades, all volunteers like us, accompanied us and then stopped 200 meters from the door to secure our return to the truck.

Baby Jane was chosen because she knew horses and could handle the stallion, Tito because he is so quiet and discreet that he could cover our backs without anyone noticing. And I, because I volunteered. No, actually, it was Erk who suggested that I go, because of my memory, which is excellent. Apart from that little missing piece from my head injury. The conversations you read are reported verbatim. And so I had memorized the path to follow once inside to reach the stallion's box.

Erk volunteered because he was the only one who could move easily with the 40 liters of water and Kris because wanting to separate the brothers is like wanting to eliminate the night to keep only the day.

So, the five us left, with our guardian angels right behind us. Half a kilometer from the stud farm, we went our separate ways, the brothers going to the gate, Tito, Baby jane and I going to the stables.

Because of Ashraf Abdâlî Durrani's reputation, few locals are foolish enough to even imagine entering his premises without permission. So the walls that surround the property are only there to indicate where the boundaries were, in a way. If they're two meters tall, that's the most of it. So, now, normally, you should ask me how we're gonna get the horse out of this enclosed space other than through the gate. Well, you will see.

I put my back to the wall, I gave a boost up to the top to Baby Jane, and when I turned to Tito to propose the same to him, I saw him running up the wall and pull himself astride it and lie down on it immediately. Show off!