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ve enough beds； and not enough mattresses for the beds we do have。 Worse； we don t have enough blankets。 He showed us a lit tle girl skipping rope with two other kids。 You see that girl？ This past winter； the children had to share blankets。 Her brother died of exposure。 He walked on。 The last time I checked； we have less than a month s supply of rice left in the warehouse； and； when that runs out； the children will have to eat bread and tea for breakfast and dinner。 I noticed he made no mention of lunch。
He stopped and turned to me。 There is very little shelter here； almost no food； no clothes； no clean water。 What I have in ample supply here is children who ve lost their childhood。 But the tragedy is that these are the lucky ones。 We re filled beyond capacity and every day I turn away mothers who bring their children。 He took a step toward me。 You say there is hope for Sohrab？ I pray you don t lie； Agha。 But。。。 you may well be too late。
What do you mean？
Zaman s eyes shifted。 Follow me。
WHAT PASSED FOR THE DIRECTOR S OFFICE was four bare； cracked walls； a mat on the floor； a table； and two folding chairs。 As Zaman and I sat down； I saw a gray rat poke its head from a burrow in the wall and flit across the room。 I cringed when it sniffed at my shoes； then Zaman s； and scurried through the open door。
What did you mean it may be too late？ I said。
Would you like some chai？ I could make some。
Nay； thank you。 I d rather we talk。
Zaman tilted back in his chair and crossed his arms on his chest。 What I have to tell you is not pleasant。 Not to mention that it may be very dangerous。
For whom？
You。 Me。 And； of course； for Sohrab； if it s not too late already。
I need to know； I said。
He nodded。 So you say。 But first I want to ask you a question：
How badly do you want to find your nephew？
I thought of the street fights we d get into when we were kids； all the times Hassan used to take them on for me； two against one； sometimes three against one。 I d wince and watch； tempted to step in； but always stopping short； always held back by something。
I looked at the hallway； saw a group of kids dancing in a circle。 A little girl； her left leg amputated below the knee； sat on a ratty mattress and watched； smiling and clapping along with the other children。 I saw Farid watching the children too； his own mangled hand hanging at his side。 I remembered Wahid s boys and。。。 I realized something： I would not leave Afghanistan without finding Sohrab。 Tell me where he is； I said。
Zaman s gaze lingered on me。 Then he nodded； picked up a pencil； and twirled it between his fingers。 Keep my name out of it。
I promise。
He tapped the table with the pencil。 Despite your promise； I think I ll live to regret this； but perhaps it s just as well。 I m damned anyway。 But if something can be done for Sohrab。。。 I ll tell you because I believe you。 You have the look of a desperate man。 He was quiet for a long time。 There is a Talib official； he muttered。 He visits once every month or two。 He brings cash with him； not a lot； but better than nothing at all。