"Kabul to the Sar-e-Sang Mining Area in Badakhshan takes about two days," Abdullah said. "We'll hit several checkpoints, but I've greased the right palms. Just..."
"Speak."
"Mountain conditions change fast." He said. "Sir, are you absolutely sure? I could send my most trusted men instead—"
"No." I said. "Has to be me."
"Alright." He sighed. "Then we go. God willing."
The convoy left Kabul and entered the mountains.
Roads were rough as hell, the vehicle lurching violently.
At checkpoints, Abdullah smoothly handed over cash.
"In Afghanistan, money solves a lot of problems," he said. "But not all of them."
The next day at noon, the convoy reached the mountain base. Looking up at snow peaks piercing the clouds, Abdullah handed me climbing gear. "From here we walk. The mines are at seventeen thousand four hundred feet."
"How long?"
"If we're lucky, eight to ten hours. You have high-altitude experience?"
"No."
"It's going to be hell."
The climb was brutal. Past thirteen thousand feet, splitting headaches and breathing problems forced me to use an oxygen mask.
"Sir, your lips are turning blue."
"Keep moving."
When we finally saw the mine entrance, I was running on fumes. The opening in the cliff face looked ready to collapse.
"The mine runs deep, could cave in anytime." Abdullah handed me a hard hat. "Any trouble, we evacuate immediately."
I nodded and put on the gear. The mine entrance was narrow, barely wide enough to crawl through. We got on our bellies and started in. The rock was ice-cold and sharp, tearing my clothes.
"Sir, watch those jagged stones!" Abdullah called from behind.
Breathing got harder, my head felt like it would explode.
"Damn it..."
I stopped, gasping.
No, I couldn't stop.
I kept crawling forward.
Finally, the tunnel opened up some.
I managed to stand, and by headlamp light, saw the surrounding rock walls.
Deep blue lazurite veins threaded through the stone.
"Abdullah," I called back, "where's the best stuff?"
