We showed them our route on the map.
That is not possible, they said. No one has ever crossed this border.
We know. That's why we're here.
Vito and Tony were dismayed. They decided to go through the contents of our backpacks, one item at time. Toothbrush, dirty underwear, unwashed bowl. They made a complete inventory, but it was obviously a letdown. No guns, no drugs, no secret documents. Had we been real spies or at least drug smugglers, Vito and Tony would have been promoted and could have gotten out of this shithole outpost. On the other hand, since we really were three stupid American tourists, they could chill out.
That night our interrogators gave us their own bunks while they slept on the hard floor of the office.
I was so thrilled I couldn't fall asleep.
"We did it, guys," I whispered. "We crossed the Wakhan!"