Fortress (37 page)

‘Just one thing. If I shout, “Fire!” that’s what you do. All right? Let’s go.’

Tom let the two officers take position as he waited to the right of the doorframe. As soon as the body was illuminated once more, he started in.

‘If you’re injured, show me. Move your leg, move your foot, move your toe. Just use your feet to show me that you understand. Move nothing but your feet. Can you hear me? Do you understand?’

There was no response as Tom moved to the right side of the body. The two police torches shone on it, illuminating the left wall of damp and pitted concrete.

He moved to the right of the ripped and soiled mattress to be out of the taller one’s arc of fire. His torch picked out the mass of hair on the head and the beard. He checked the floor for any tell-tales, any wires, any tape, anything that could indicate there was a device, even under the body. As he got closer, the smell became more rank. The guy hadn’t washed for weeks, maybe months.

Tom could finally see parts of his face in more detail. The beard was matted, wet with saliva that dribbled out of his mouth. Tom lay down to his right, hard up against him so the body would partly shield him from any blast that came from under him. He didn’t bother trying for eye-to-eye.

‘Ready!’

He pulled back so the stinking body was almost halfway over him and what he got in reply was what he wanted to hear.

‘Clear!’

Tom let go and the man rolled back onto his face, Tom rolling the other way and back onto his feet. He grabbed hold of the heap and, as he turned it over, twisted a fistful of face hair to get a reaction.

The lips moved, but that was it.

83

Sam had never been completely smitten before. It was as if he had been drugged. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Nothing else mattered now – except Karza. After all, it was he who had brought them together. And together they would free him. That was her promise.

He slept deeply and by the time he woke, she had disappeared into the other bedroom. He had to get to Party HQ, so he showered and dressed. As he was about to leave he tapped gently on the door. She answered and he went in. She was preoccupied, as if Sam wasn’t even there, and barely acknowledged him.

Then she looked up. ‘You understand?’

He nodded.

He hoped this wasn’t how it would be from now, that she would still show him the attention she had earlier. But he had a new bond with her. He had seen these mood changes before and decided not to sweat it. The least he could do was cut her some slack after she had been so good with him. He told her he would be back in a few hours. She didn’t seem to hear him so he shut the door and left.

All the things that had besieged him before, Karza’s fate, his mother’s hassling, the ignominy of the assault by Dink, the threats from Derek Farmer, were diminished now, so much so that he hardly noticed them. He felt a heady kind of freedom.

Pippa was delighted to see him. ‘I’m so glad you’re still with us. It seems the line you took at that meeting with Vernon Rolt definitely resonated elsewhere.’ She gave him a conspiratorial look.

He waited for her to go on.

‘Number Ten, no less. I know this must seem a bit arse about face, but the messages coming down from the PM’s office now are to keep the faith, not to throw multiculturalism under the bus just yet. We’ve had some terrible setbacks but we mustn’t be deflected by them and so forth. We need to keep a bit of outreach going. Okay?’

And that after the humiliation of having his words written for him by Derek Farmer. Sam was almost amused at how much party policy got made on the hoof when there was a panic on, not that he cared any more. All the same he grinned enthusiastically. ‘Right. Got it.’

She thrust a folder into his hands. ‘We’ve prepared a little road trip for you. We want you to make some strategic visits to key constituencies. Sit with the MPs at their surgeries, let them be seen with you. Take your girlfriend along. It’s good they see you as part of a modern couple. People warm to that sort of thing.’ She gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m sorry you’ve had a bit of a baptism of fire with us, and the different messaging that’s been going to and fro. But the PM’s hoping that the fruits of his summit with the President will send the right message to the country about the economy – which, after all, is what people really care about, isn’t it?’

Sam tried to think of something to say that made him sound as if he was paying attention. ‘No question that job insecurity and unemployment are an accelerant to civic strife.’

She clapped. ‘That’s the spirit. You really do have a talent for these one-liners. You’re going to go far, you know.’

He smiled at this. ‘Thanks, I intend to.’

He looked at the folder. Various letters of invitation and tickets to party events were paper-clipped together: Brighton, Bristol, Birmingham, Crewe, Sheffield, York – an itinerary covering half the country.

‘And, as promised, tickets for the summit events over the next few days. Don’t miss any of them. The PM thinks you’re just his sort of guy.’ She studied him, almost with a frown. ‘May I say, Sahim, you look much happier?’

He smiled serenely. ‘You’re right. I am. Much happier.’

84

Victoria

When he got back to the flat, Nasima was in the bathroom.

He went into the large bedroom, where they had spent such a wonderful night. Her small case was open on the floor as before. And on the bedside table was the locket she always wore round her neck.

He sat down and glanced into the case. There were a few clothes, a spare pair of shoes, a small bag of makeup. He didn’t want to intrude, let alone snoop, but there was so much he didn’t know.

Last night he had tried quizzing her again. And again she had told him that her family story was not a particularly happy one, and that she didn’t want to spoil the mood by going over it. ‘I try to keep facing forward, living in the moment.’

That, he had agreed, was well worth doing, especially when the moment was as good as this.

He glanced again at the locket on the table. Surely looking at that wouldn’t be wrong. He picked it up, his pulse racing. He opened the clasp. Inside was a tiny oval photograph: a picture of a man in his sixties with a full beard.

Then he looked up. She was standing in the doorway, a towel round her, holding out a smartphone, a different one from the one she had had yesterday. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Fine,’ she said, her face a blank mask. She looked as she had that first time they had met on the doorstep in Sheffield, as if last night hadn’t happened.

‘There’s a video from your brother.’ She passed him the phone.

He touched play. Karza seemed less distressed but his beard was more unkempt, and he looked really quite sick. This time the appeal was addressed directly to Sam.

‘Brother, thank you. Thank you for saving me. I’ll never forget you. I will be in your debt for ever. I love you, man.’

Tears filled Sam’s eyes. He couldn’t remember a time when either of them had ever said anything to each other about love. And now he felt overwhelmed, remorseful, too, for having been such an inattentive brother. He played it again, studying the image more closely. The ripped and soiled mattress lay on a damp, pitted concrete floor. The walls were the same. The room was tiny. Was he in a cell? It looked like it.

Nasima held out her hand for the phone and took it back.

‘So he knows?’

‘He knows that you are going to free him.’

Her eyes flicked to where she had left her locket. He had dropped it on the bed when she appeared.

He held it up. ‘I’m sorry. It’s unforgivable.’

He was covered with embarrassment. She looked blank. It was impossible to know if she was annoyed.

‘Can I ask who it is?’

‘It’s my father.’

‘Where is he?’

She didn’t answer.

‘Is he dead? I’m sorry for asking.’

She reached out for it. ‘He’s building a mosque. And he’s going to dedicate it to me.’

She looked at the picture for a few seconds with no reaction, then snapped it shut. Her eyes had that faraway look again. He turned to her, flushed with relief after his invasion of her privacy. ‘Nasima, we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives.’

‘Until we die?’ she asked, in a clear voice.

‘Yes.’

‘I can’t think of anything that would make me happier in all the world. You’ve made my life complete.’

The light came back into her eyes.

‘We will make our lives worthwhile. And Karza will be safe.’

She let the towel drop to the floor. She was naked, standing in front of him like a perfect statue. He was mesmerized.

Her eyes shone. ‘Do you know my favourite Western song, by David Bowie, “We can be heroes” …?’

He smiled.

‘“… Just for one day …”’

She climbed on the bed and pulled him towards her.

‘“For ever and ever.”’

‘“For ever and ever …”’

85

Westford Airfield, Oxfordshire

They had regrouped at Woolf’s hangar. The numbers on the team had swollen significantly. Fifteen more staff were seated at laptops and a big screen had been erected, showing detailed images of the garage. Finally Woolf was getting the support he had been arguing for. But Mandler was in there as well, arguing with him about the merits of alerting the Americans to the connection with the Virgin Islands company and Zuabi.

Woolf was emphatic. ‘How can you trust them after what happened with Carter? Stutz’s influence stretches right up the food chain in Washington. We know he’s a regular contractor for all their security agencies.’

Mandler was sticking to his guns. ‘But you still don’t have a direct, verifiable link between Stutz and Zuabi, and it’s not MI5’s job to make it.’

‘I’d say Jefferson was a pretty firm connection.’

‘Whatever you think, it’s off our remit. I don’t need to remind you that our focus is domestic. As it is, I’ve got Vauxhall Cross jumping up and down about what our man was doing in Texas. Plus the pressure’s off us here. We’ve found the bomb factory. The three Rafiq saw in the people-carrier, they’re likely to be the three who blew themselves up.’

‘But we still don’t know who they were, and the fourth man, the one in the inspection pit, we don’t know who he is either – or why he was there. It appeared that he was being held against his will. What’s that all about?’

Tom couldn’t resist pitching in: ‘Don’t forget that Vestey and Nurul’s mother both mentioned a girlfriend. It was the only thing that Vestey gave us before he topped himself – that she was the one who’d brought him.’

His phone buzzed; it was Phoebe in PA mode. ‘Mr Rolt would like to see you.’

‘When?’

‘ASAP. He has some kind of live-link presentation for you. The tech guys are rigging it in his office right now.’

‘Okay, I’ll be there, but answer me this: has he any awareness of Vestey’s absence?’

‘No, I don’t believe so. So you can come along in an hour?’

‘That’s a no?’

‘Absolutely. See you then. Bye.’ And she was gone.

86

Westminster, London

When Tom arrived at Invicta there was still a strong security presence outside, including a couple of police BMWs in the street, which had been cordoned off to all traffic.

He bounded into the building and up the stairs.

Since his return, Rolt had been full of praise for his efforts in Texas but so far had failed to be specific about any further duties, which Tom took to be a sign that he was still on probation in some way.

When he came into his office one of the tech guys was fiddling with a computer screen that had been set up on the boardroom table. Rolt was animated. ‘Ah, just in time.’

Phoebe followed him in with a pair of envelopes. ‘The reception tonight. You’ll need these.’ She handed one to each of them.

Tom opened his.

The United States Ambassador to the Court of St James, Denham Smart III, requests the pleasure …

‘Fuck that,’ said Rolt.

Phoebe looked taken aback. ‘But it’s come from Number Ten. They said it’s in recognition—’ She stopped when she saw Rolt’s face reddening.

‘Yeah, yeah, in recognition of the fact that the PM hasn’t got the guts to meet me in person. Well, fuck him. I’m not some groupie who’s going to wait in line for a handshake.’

Tom glanced warily at Rolt. It was a side of him that he hadn’t seen before, a fragile ego, enraged at being spurned.

‘I’ll send your apologies, then.’

‘If you must.’ He shooed her out.

The techie was finishing up. ‘Should be okay for you now, sir. You want me to stay and check the signal doesn’t cut out?’

‘No, off you go.’

Rolt waited until the man had gone. Then his whole demeanour changed. The outburst forgotten, he was now shining with almost child-like glee. ‘You’re going to appreciate this.’

‘What is it?’

‘What shall we call it? A bonus? A consideration for your good work in Texas.’

‘It was nothing much.’

‘Nothing much? You were on test – and you passed with flying colours.’

‘Okay.’

‘It wasn’t just you who was being tested – it was Invicta. Stutz doesn’t put his money out there until he knows what he’s investing in. You delivered, big-time. We got the investment, and this is a gift from him. Sitting comfortably?’

Tom smiled and nodded.

Rolt reached for the remote. ‘Okay, we’re live from Kabul. And …’

The screen came to life. A bare room, a man hunched over, manacled to a chair, stripped to the waist.

Someone out of vision prodded him with some kind of stick or baton, then placed it under his chin to lift his head. The face came into view.

Tom felt every muscle in his body tense.

It was Qazi, the Afghan National Army lieutenant from Bastion.

Rolt was grinning. ‘Stutz felt he owed you this, after what you did for him in Texas.’ He leaned towards the microphone on the computer. ‘Okay, gentlemen, we’re ready this end.’

An American voice, presumably the person off-screen with the stick, addressed Qazi.