“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 his head. “You remember that, Javid?” “現在可以弄掉那個了，你知道。”他說。 “什麼？” 他朝一個持槍的傢伙做了個手勢。嘶嘶。剎那間我臉頰發痛，那個衛兵咯咯發笑，手裏拿着我的假鬍子丟上丟下。那個塔利班獰笑：“這是我最近見過的最好的假鬍子。但我認爲現在這樣更好一些，你說呢？”他摩着手指，壓得它們咯咯響，不斷握着拳頭，又張開。“好了，安拉保佑，你喜歡今天的表演嗎？” “那是表演嗎？”我撫着臉頰說，惟求聲音別暴露我心裏極大的恐懼。 “殺雞儆猴是最好的表演，老兄。如同一齣戲劇，充滿懸念。但，最重要的是，教育大衆。”他打了個響指，較年輕的那個衛兵給他點上香菸。塔利班哈哈大笑，喃喃自語，雙手顫抖，香菸差點掉下來。“但如果你想看看真正的表演，你應該隨着我到馬紮 [Mazar，按馬紮裏沙里夫是 MazareSharif的音譯，在波斯語中即”馬紮和沙里夫“，由馬紮和沙里夫兩個城區組成 ]去，1998年8月，那才叫精彩。” “沒聽明白。 ” “你知道的，我們將他們留給狗吃。”我明白他在說什麼了。 他站起來，繞着沙發走了一圈，兩圈，又坐下。“我們挨家搜索，把男人和男孩抓出來。我們就在那兒，當着他們家人的面，把他們幹掉，給他們顏色看，讓他們記得自己是誰，屬於哪裏。”他現在幾乎是在喘氣，“有時候，我們破門而入，走進他們的屋子。而我……我拿着衝鋒槍，在屋子裏一通掃射，直到煙霧瀰漫，擋住我的視線。”他傾向我，似乎要跟我分享什麼大祕密。“如果你沒那麼幹過，一定不知道‘解放’是什麼意思。站在到處是靶子的屋子裏面，讓子彈紛飛，忘掉負疚和悔恨，知道你自己品德良好，善良，高尚，知道你自己在替天行道。真叫人興奮。”他親吻念珠，轉過頭，“你還記得嗎，賈維德？”
