Elder of the 0027 Tribe

After a long drive, the pickup finally came to a halt at the gate of a vast estate resembling a manor. Before the elf and Hou Rui could get out, seventy or eighty armed men clad in military jackets and carrying AK-47s had already surrounded them. They shouted incoherently, banging their gun muzzles against the pickup’s windows.

“Don’t resist. Leave your weapons in the vehicle,” the elf hastily instructed Hou Rui upon noticing his guarded posture. She then removed all her weapons and tossed them into the bed of the pickup. Hou Rui quickly followed suit. Once both had disarmed themselves, a bearded man—clearly a minor leader—thoroughly searched them before signaling for them to follow him inside.

As soon as they entered the estate’s courtyard, Hou Rui was taken aback. This was no well-trained military unit, but rather a sprawling encampment filled with tents, swarming with non-combatants—the elderly, women, and children.

“What is this?” Hou Rui asked as they walked.

“Human shields against American aircraft,” the bearded guide replied. He surprisingly understood English, and his answer left Hou Rui stunned.

The elf shot Hou Rui a fierce glare, instantly making him realize he’d spoken out of turn. For the rest of the journey, he kept his mouth tightly shut.

They crossed the courtyard and entered a two-story mansion at the very center. Hou Rui was struck by the contrast; beneath his feet was a fine cashmere carpet, large oil paintings adorned the walls, and a glittering crystal chandelier hung overhead. This place was nothing like a war zone—it was a stunningly luxurious Arab villa.

“This way,” the bearded man continued, leading them straight to the basement, then through a tunnel stretching dozens of meters before finally arriving at their destination: a dim underground chamber laid with sheepskins. At the far end of the room, before a tapestry inscribed with lines of Arabic script, an elderly man with a white beard sat leisurely enjoying his hookah.

By force of habit—and a result of the brutal training on Zero Island—Hou Rui first looked for possible exits. Unfortunately, apart from the passage they’d come through, there were only two ventilation shafts, neither larger than a human head. If things went south, escape would be impossible—fighting their way out was the only option.

Next, Hou Rui surreptitiously assessed the armed presence in the room. He noted the two armed guards behind the old man, the bearded minor leader who had withdrawn behind them, and, of course, the rifle resting across the old man’s knees. As for any hidden defenses, Hou Rui could not be sure, eyeing the massive curtains draped around the basement.

Unlike the tense Hou Rui, the elf appeared quite relaxed after entering. She greeted the old man respectfully, then withdrew behind Hou Rui, adopting an obedient demeanor and quietly signaling for him to sit on the sheepskin.

No sooner had Hou Rui settled down than the old man set aside his hookah. “You may call me Elder Abu Abiq.”

The same words reached Hou Rui’s ears as a jumble, but the elf, seated just behind him, translated promptly, sparing him embarrassment.

“Yes, honorable Elder Abu Abiq, greetings,” Hou Rui mustered his courage and began to bluff, with the elf again acting as interpreter. But to their surprise, the old man spoke only a single sentence and then fell silent. Instead, a middle-aged man in a suit emerged from behind a curtain and seated himself beside the elder.

“I am Ram Abiq. I understand you require assistance?” the man said fluently in English, introducing himself.

Before responding, Hou Rui scrutinized him carefully: a light gray, hand-tailored three-piece suit, a custom shirt, a classic black-and-white diamond-pattern tie. His medium-length curly hair was slicked back meticulously, his chin sported only a light stubble rather than a full beard, and his piercing brown eyes regarded Hou Rui with wariness and disdain.

What caught Hou Rui’s attention most was that, from the moment he sat down, Ram never again glanced at the old man, nor did the elder show any sign of displeasure. Instead, he continued puffing on his hookah, utterly at ease. All these signs pointed to a man educated in the modern world, supremely confident, possessing high status within the tribe, and held in great trust by its elders.

“Greetings, Mr. Ram. Yes, we are here to request your assistance,” Hou Rui said, having quickly assessed his counterpart and steered the conversation to the main point.

“First, tell me your name.”

“My name is Douglas,” Hou Rui replied, fabricating a name on the spot. Since his nickname was “Wild Dog,” adding “Las” to “Doug” seemed natural enough.

“Mr. Douglas, whom do you represent here? The Americans, the British, the Russians, contractors, or a government?” Ram asked.

“We represent only ourselves,” the elf answered quickly, perhaps fearing Hou Rui might slip up.

Ram gave her a cool glance before turning his gaze back to Hou Rui, as if waiting for confirmation.

“We represent only ourselves,” Hou Rui repeated with resignation.

“And what do you intend to offer in exchange for Elder Abu’s help?”

“U.S. dollars, weapons, and, if needed, we can provide military advisors to train your militia.” Hou Rui, after a moment’s thought, began spinning wild promises. At this moment, he sorely missed the late “Big Beard.” Had he survived, this negotiation might have gone far more smoothly.

“Ha! Mr. Douglas, you are truly generous, but I find your claims hard to believe,” Ram laughed, shaking his head.

“On Elder Abu’s land, I don’t make promises lightly. I value my life too much,” Hou Rui said, racking his brains to sound convincing.

“That, I am willing to believe. Tell me, what exactly do you need?” Ram’s smile faded, finally convinced to listen.

“We need Elder Abu’s warriors for a certain plan.”

“How many men? Who is the target?”

Hou Rui was about to answer honestly, but the elf interjected, “The government troops trained by American advisers, about twenty in number.”

“A woman should not interrupt a man’s conversation. If you do so again, I will cut out your tongue myself,” Ram snapped, his face darkening as if gravely insulted. The look he gave the elf revealed just how deeply entrenched his patriarchal views were—her interruption had infuriated him.

“Please forgive my companion’s ignorance, Mr. Ram. I can assure you she will not speak out of turn again,” Hou Rui quickly interceded, playing the peacemaker. Though he secretly relished seeing the elf put in her place, he had no desire to see negotiations break down.

From another perspective, Hou Rui understood the elf’s intention: to conceal certain information during the negotiation, prompting Ram to underestimate the strength of the convoy they intended to attack, with the aim of luring his side into the mission before revealing more.

To play along, the elf adopted an even more submissive posture, edging further back as if genuinely fearful of provoking Ram’s anger.

After a while, Ram finally calmed down and steered the conversation back to business. “Dealing with twenty or so government soldiers is no problem. But I need to know: what is your ultimate goal?”

“We are after a certain item.”

“What item? Gold, advanced weapons, or a large quantity of drugs?” Ram pressed, not waiting for an answer before declaring, “Whatever it is, half must go to Elder Abu once the job is done.”

Hou Rui knew full well this was impossible. Neither the elf nor anyone else in their team would risk their lives for such a deal. If they handed over even half of the two truckloads of relics to the local tribe, their organization would likely activate everyone’s tracking chips and send others to take over.

“I’m afraid that won’t work. But we can compensate Elder Abu in other ways,” Hou Rui replied, bracing himself.

“This is an insult. And you expect Elder Abu’s help?” Ram’s anger was clearly a bargaining tactic.

“We can provide five hundred rifles and one hundred rocket launchers to the tribe.”

“No. Half the goods, or nothing.”

“We can have your commanders trained overseas in specialized courses.”

“No. Half, or nothing.”

“We’ll give you two armored vehicles,” Hou Rui said through gritted teeth. He knew he had little room to maneuver, so he began making reckless promises—after the mission, he planned to disappear, and as for armored vehicles, Ram could keep dreaming.

“This haggling is as tedious as a foolish woman in the marketplace. I’ll say it one last time: we want half!” Ram stubbornly refused to yield, acting as if he had Hou Rui and his team completely in his grasp.

Negotiations had hit an impasse. As the triumphant Ram looked down at Hou Rui, waiting for his inevitable capitulation, Hou Rui’s mind raced. He mentally reviewed everything he knew about Afghanistan’s political climate, the power structure in the Azabad region, and the relevant information on this Tajik tribe, desperately searching for a breakthrough…