Shoot him. Shoot him now,” Amin demanded. “Be quiet.” Connor tightened his choking grip. “Listen, Hassan. I know who you are. I’m an old friend of your father’s. I’ve come to rescue you and Miss Shawcross.” The rifle shook in Hassan’s hands. “Liar. Let my friend go.” “My name’s Nathan Connor. I knew your father as a boy. I blame myself that the Taliban came and killed your family, Hassan. I promised him I’d look after you.” “The Taliban killed your family?” Amin repeated in surprise. “Hassan, you never said…” Hassan lowered his rifle. “I remember you. You came to my village.” “Yes. Yes, Hassan. And I promised your father that if anything happened to him I’d find you and help you. I’ve been searching for you for weeks. Listen, we haven’t got much time. We must get to Miss Shawcross.” “Don’t listen to him, Hassan,” Amin spluttered. “Come with us, Amin. You don’t belong here. Most of these men aren’t even Afghans. And all they want to do is kill people.”
