As the world calls for the Taliban to hand Osama bin Laden over to the international authorities, a strange, silent apprehension has settled on Afghanistan. The bustle of Kabul's many street markets is strangely quiet these days. Sprawling on a plateau before us the city sits 5,000 feet up in the Hindu Kush Mountains. A mish-mash of old and new, home to more than a million of the world's more destitute souls.
Bumping down the potholed roads that lead to Kabul's centre is an education in social and economic dysfunctionalism, rarely seen on such a scale. Bright four-wheel drive jeeps, packed with young gun-toting Taliban, race down the road. Dust spews out from their thundering tyres, settling on the beggars clustered on the kerb-side, shapeless widows beneath the all-shrouding mandatory burqa. With husbands lost in long-forgotten battles, they are a living relic of 22 years of conflict, forced to beg by the Taliban law that forbids them to work. Passers- by throw them barely a glance. Perhaps, in less preoccupied times, they might have spared them some change.
Further on, in tired looking uniforms faded by years in the sun, heavily bearded policemen used to marshalling the city's dense traffic look tense, despite the lack of cars.
In a culture where time never seems to matter, people hurry where they used to meander. In a back street car-wash set among the ruins, a group of scruffy men lounge around hoping trade will pick up. They know about the attacks in America and they know what it could mean for them if Osama bin Laden is blamed.
"Why should I worry?" Mohammed says. "All I think about is finding work so I can earn a meagre living."
His friend joins in: "Of course I am apprehensive. America will be cruel if it attacks. Osama bin Laden came to us for protection. If anyone has faith and courage then you will give him protection won't you? He is a Muslim brother, isn't he?"
Apprehension in the city was fuelled by the departure of international UN and NGO aid workers. That no-one ever knew exactly how many of them flocked here to dispense what little international goodwill came Afghanistan's way is testimony to the scale of the Afghan's vast needs.
Many on the streets can only hope to feed their families, never mind ferry them out to some place of refuge. The lucky people here work for aid groups earning maybe £240 a month, 30 times the average income. The really lucky save up the IR £12,000 plus, needed to pay smugglers to ship them across the world.
In the Taliban's Ministry of Foreign Affairs, where all journalists must pick up a government minder whose job it is to translate and control, low level officials usually greet us with luke warm sincerity while senior officials are more genial and animated, often willing to share a joke. These days, however, they are serious.
It was the bespectacled and scholarly Foreign Minister, Mr Wakil Ahmed Mutawakel, who was the first to be put forward by the government to deny bin Laden's involvement in the attacks on the United States.
At a white table in the Kabul Intercontinental Hotel, a mere five hours after the first plane ploughed into the World Trade Centre, he stared owlishly at the handful of cameras arrayed before him. He told CNN: "If anyone has brought up his name it is because of reports about him in the past."
Even at this early stage it was clear the Taliban were concerned. "The Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan has always expressed its condemnation of terrorism. Afghanistan has been targeted with terrorism and we have been victims of terrorism. We condemn it here and internationally. Terrorism is frightening and creates hatred," Mr Mutawakel said. Within hours the Taliban's spiritual leader, Mullah Mohammed Omar, through his spokesman, repeated bin Laden's innocence.
Around the hotel porters could be seen hiding away, radios cradled to their ears. Everyone was fine-tuning their radar for the possibilities of trouble ahead. They didn't have long to wait.
As America began burying its dead, night fell over Kabul. Even the dogs seemed to have got the message to be quiet. Detonations soon rippled around the city and white-tailed rockets whizzed across the sky. An ammunition dump went up in flames. But not the Americans, surprise surprise.
It was an incensed Northern Alliance on a daring helicopter raid. Angered by the suicide bomb attack seriously wounding their leader at the weekend, they'd launched a spectacular night-time attack on the Taliban as retribution.
The reality is, if America was to launch a barrage of pins, the first one landing would be likely to make the city jump. Into such an expectant atmosphere Mullah Omar made a rare foray onto the airwaves. Radio, of course, because television is banned by the Taliban.
Designed to rally the faithful in the face of adversity it seems to set the tone for the days ahead: "According to the history this is the third time that we have faced attack. As you know Great Britain attacked Afghanistan (in the 19th century) and at that time there was no Osama.
"Also the Russians attacked (in the 1980s) and there was no Osama. Now the third empire of the world wants to attack us. As you know better this is not because of Osama this is because they want to demonise Islam."
The theme also returned to bin Ladens's innocence: "As you know Osama is an ordinary person and he cannot organise things like that. If the attack is limited to the explosion of one bomb, in that case we can point to Osama. But in this instance which is too complicated and involves pilots. In fact Osma doesn't have a place to train pilots and people don't sacrifice themselves for Osama."
There are few here who can challenge the rule of Mullah Omar. The best the masses can hope for is that their tribal elders are heard. In a gathering of a hundred or more such grey beards in Narangahar province close to Pakistan on Saturday they unanimously called on the Taliban to talk. The head of the Khogiani Tribe, Mr Malik Nazir said: "We advise the Taliban that you must discuss with everyone anything and not close the doors to negotiations." The same advice also for America: "If they have any suspicion about Osama Bin Laden they should do this through negotiations with the Taliban. We are always hearing on the radio that war rarely resolves problems." Wisely, however, they pledged to back the Taliban should America attack.
With every statement and radio address the country seems to be edging ever closer to complete isolation. Iran has closed it's borders with Afghanistan to avoid a further influx of refugees. In Pakistan Genl Pervez Musharraf is straining already fractious relations with his own Islamic hardliners in order to lend support to the United States, and that in spite of a warning from the Taliban they could retaliate if the American's launch an attack from Pakistan's soil or airspace.
On Sunday the last remaining international aid workers left when the Taliban told all foreigners they must go because their safety can no longer be guaranteed. We have packed our bags but hope to stay and have taken on the 16- hour car journey to the Taliban spiritual capital of Kandahar in order to negotiate for our right to remain. I have a sense we may be switching out the light as we leave. Certainly as far as television journalism is concerned.
Perhaps an insight into the long range analysis of where this conflict is going can be found in Mullah Omar's radio address when he told his people: "Have faith in Allah and Allah will protect you... Don't be scared of the American attack. You should be brave... We should look to our history, in the past our fathers and grand fathers gave their lives for Islam."
It is hard to calculate what over 20 years of war does to the mind. "We are made of steel and concrete," one official told me. "All the blood has been squeezed out of us." If any nation can set its face against adversity it is the Afghans. It seems bizarre that a country half way to hell already could be on the verge of fighting what could be the defining religious battle of this century.
Nic Robertson is a senior international correspondent with the US-based TV network. He is the only western television journalist still in Taliban-held Afghanistan