Yellow sand swept across the ancient trade route. An Arabian caravan trudged onward over a dried-up ancient riverbed beneath the scorching sun.
More than a hundred camels felt their way forward, leaving one print after another, seemingly without a trace of weariness. The merchants on their backs, however, groaned without end.
"Mr. Andrei, why didn't you send this batch of weapons to Afghanistan through Russia? Why take this route to secretly deliver weapons to the Afghans? To be honest, if Uncle Aimaiti, the most experienced guide, hadn't been leading the way, we probably wouldn't even be able to find our bearings on this trade route."
The man called "Andrei" sat atop his camel and replied to the caravan leader in fluent Russian. "Mr. Faruq, this is a secret operation. You should know that Russia and Britain do not get along. But Britain and Russia are both great powers, so although there are conflicts, they cannot be brought into the open. I'm only telling you this because I consider you a friend. You absolutely must not tell anyone."
Hearing Andrei call him a friend made Faruq very happy. Wearing a square cap and smiling, Faruq said, "Of course I understand, Mr. Andrei. Those in the know know. We will absolutely never reveal your affairs. You can rest assured about our caravan. We have done business in this region all year round, and we value trust above all else. Allah does not like lies."
It was only natural that Faruq had a good relationship with Andrei. Over the past few days of contact, Faruq had discovered that Andrei respected his faith, unlike the Russians he had encountered before.
"Mr. Andrei, your accent does not sound like the Russian I usually hear," Faruq asked.
Those words made the green and inexperienced "Andrei" suddenly