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A British Diplomat's Mission Of Rescue
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"Something is not right," Rawlins said. "She was absolutely clear about wanting to get out."
She texted a response: "We need to speak in person. We are already on the way. We can either come to the house or meet somewhere else."
Rawlins, 43, operates with quiet efficiency and attention to detail. A career diplomat, she is bright and serious, practical and thorough. Even her haircut makes sense -- close-cropped in the intense summer heat.
"I wouldn't want to be doing the same job every day for 20 years," Rawlins said. "Here we have a chance to help people."
She said she "manages the risk" with planning. "I don't want to put the victims or my staff at risk," she said. "But it's true that you can't control everything."
A few days before, the windows had been blown out of her house; eight people were killed in a bombing at the nearby Danish Embassy.
On roads where donkeys weaved between buses, Rawlins headed northeast to Mirpur, a district where most of the million Pakistanis living in Britain have their roots.
One of the world's biggest dams was built in Mirpur in the 1960s, and Britain gave visas to 5,000 people whose land was swallowed by water.
Immigration snowballed after that, and now nearly everyone in Mirpur has a relative in Britain. On any given day, an estimated 80,000 British citizens are living in or visiting Pakistan, many of whom have built large homes in Mirpur.
Though they embrace Britain's economic opportunities, many of these working-class immigrants reject a culture they see as polluted by alcohol, promiscuity and divorce. Parents who force their girls to marry a relative or local man say they are resisting that Western influence, a move that enhances their status in the community.
More practically, it also makes it easier for another person in their close circle to get a visa to Britain, where taxi drivers earn many times more than lawyers do here.
Rawlins sent another message. Still no reply.
