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The door opened and the two armed men returned； between them the tall Talib in white； still wearing his dark John Lennon glasses； looking like some broad…shouldered； NewAge mystic guru。
He took a seat across from me and lowered his hands on the armrests。 For a long time； he said nothing。 Just sat there； watching me； one hand drumming the upholstery； the other twirling turquoise blue prayer beads。 He wore a black vest over the white shirt now； and a gold watch。 I saw a splotch of dried blood on his left sleeve。 I found it morbidly fascinating that he hadn t changed clothes after the executions earlier that day。
Periodically； his free hand floated up and his thick fingers batted at something in the air。 They made slow stroking motions； up and down； side to side； as if he were caressing an invisible pet。 One of his sleeves retracted and I saw marks on his forearm……I d seen those same tracks on homeless people living in grimy alleys in San Francisco。
His skin was much paler than the other two men s； almost sallow； and a crop of tiny sweat beads gleamed on his forehead just below the edge of his black turban。 His beard； chest…length like the others； was lighter in color too。
Salaam alaykum； he said。
Salaam。
You can do away with that now； you know； he said。
Pardon？
He turned his palm to one of the armed men and motioned。 Rrrriiiip。 Suddenly my cheeks were stinging and the guard was tossing my beard up and down in his hand； giggling。 The Talib grinned。 One of the better ones I ve seen in a while。 But it really is so much better this way； I think。 Don t you？ He twirled his fingers； snapped them； fist opening and closing。 So； _Inshallah_； you enjoyed the show today？
Was that what it was？ I said； rubbing my cheeks； hoping my voice didn t betray the explosion of terror I felt inside。
Public justice is the greatest kind of show； my brother。 Drama。 Suspense。 And； best of all； education en masse。 He snapped his fingers。 The younger of the two guards lit him a cigarette。 The Talib laughed。 Mumbled to himself。 His hands were shaking and he almost dropped the cigarette。 But you want a real show； you should have been with me in Mazar。 August 1998； that was。
I m sorry？
We left them out for the dogs； you know。
I saw what he was getting at。
He stood up； paced around the sofa once； twice。 Sat down again。 He spoke rapidly。 Door to door we went； calling for the men and the boys。 We d shoot them right there in front of their families。 Let them see。 Let them remember who they were； where they belonged。 He was almost panting now。 Sometimes； we broke down their doors and went inside their homes。 And。。。 I d。。。 I d sweep the barrel of my machine gun around the room and fire and fire until the smoke blinded me。 He leaned toward me； like a man about to share a great secret。 You don t know the meaning of the word liberating until you ve done that； stood in a roomful of targets； let the bullets fly； free of guilt and remorse； knowing you are virtuous； good； and decent。 Knowing you re doing God s work。 It s breathtaking。 He kissed the prayer beads； tilted h