Three Great Novels (17 page)

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Authors: Henry Porter

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BOOK: Three Great Novels
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Loz was unmoved. ‘That is not possible.’
‘It’s your only course.’
‘And where will you be, Harland, if they lock me up? What will you do for your back? You have a very serious condition and I am confident that I’m one of the very few people who can treat it. The Secretary-General told me you had tried everything before coming to see me. Is that right?’
Harland shifted in the chair and drank some more whisky, wondering about the imperturbable man in front of him.
‘I want to know more about you and Karim Khan - all the things you left out in the restaurant. If I think you’re keeping anything from me, I’ll put you back on American soil straight away.’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘Why you owe him.’
‘He saved my life.’
Harland revolved his hand. ‘More, Doctor, I need more.’
‘In Bosnia he offered his life for mine.’
‘When were you there?’
‘Ninety-two to ninety-three. I had finished my course at Guy’s, Karim had one year to go. We joined a convoy taking supplies from London to Sarajevo. We went for the adventure and we didn’t imagine what we’d find when we got to Bosnia. The trucks never reached Sarajevo of course and most of the stuff was looted in Krajina, not far from the coast. But Karim and I managed to communicate with the peacekeepers and became involved.’
‘You fought the Serbs?’
He lowered his gaze. ‘We were Muslims. Although neither of us had attended a mosque for many years, we felt obligated to help our people. I was there for a short while; Karim remained until nineteen ninety-six.’
Loz took off his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt. He slipped off the right side and turned to reveal a patch of mottled light skin on his back, matched by a similar, smaller patch on his front to the right of his diaphragm. ‘These are the grafts I received after being wounded by a mortar shell.’ He did up his shirt and put on his jacket, fastidiously nipping at his collar and sleeves. ‘We were serving with the brigade in the north of the city. We were in a trench, very much like you have seen in pictures of the First World War, facing the Serb lines. Ahead of us was an outcrop of rock where the Serbs had a heavy machine gun and mortar. Snipers used the rock also. They could look down almost into our trench and we were losing a lot of men. The outcrop was about fifty yards from the Serb lines and we believed if we captured it we’d save many lives as well as improving our concentration of fire.’ As Loz talked he moved his hands through the air and glanced up to give an idea of the angles of fire.
‘We launched an attack but were beaten back. As we retreated across no man’s land they got the mortar range right and I was hit in the back and the leg. I was lying out there all night. The Serbs didn’t finish me off because they thought my cries would demoralise our lines.’ He stopped and moved to perch on the side of Harland’s desk. ‘Karim got back safely. He could not stand to hear my pain. He shouted to the Serbs that they could have him in exchange for allowing me to be taken back to our lines. The Serbs agreed, although we knew they would try to trick us and kill Karim and his helpers, as well as me. The arrangement was that two of our men would accompany Karim to the spot where I was lying and bring me back. At the same time two of their men would walk out and take Karim. All six of us would be exposed and both sides knew their men could be killed instantly. It was all about timing.
‘Karim reached me and walked on with his hands in the air to meet the two Serbs, leaving our two guys by me. As he left, the two men who had come to pick me up began to count the seconds away. One… two… three - very slow, like that. It looked to the Serbs like they had the advantage because they could get their men back to safety and pick the rest of us off. When Karim reached the Serbs they called out, and this big Algerian man, very strong in the legs, lifted me on his back and we set off to our trench with the other man counting out loud. They knew they had thirty seconds to get me back because Karim was counting also. As they reached thirty they lowered me into the trench. Then Karim put his plan into action.’
Loz stood up, put his hands behind his neck, then continued. ‘He had strapped hand grenades under the hood of his jacket, attached by the pins, so when he pulled the grenades away, the pins came out. Remember, his arms were raised like this, so he was able to let them drop back behind his neck. Just as they reached the trench with me, he took hold of two hand grenades, slipped behind his escort and threw them in the direction of the Serb lines. He could throw a cricket ball a hundred and fifty yards and aim it like he was dropping a penny into a glass. Two more followed. By this time our side were firing to cover him, but the Serbs couldn’t get a clean shot at him because their men were in the way. He had many more grenades in his pockets and a couple of handguns concealed in his waistband. He dealt with the Serb escort and then went on to take that rock outcrop by himself. God knows how many people he killed in those few minutes but it was certainly the bravest act any of us had seen. And it didn’t end there. He took me to find treatment and waited until he knew I was going to be okay.’
During the telling of this story some of the polish had slipped from Loz’s manner and Harland sensed that he regretted his vehemence. Loz’s eyes returned to his shoes and he smiled to himself.
Harland said nothing.
‘You know, Karim was soft. He liked the easy life in London
, la dolce vita
- the women, the clubs, the alcohol, the restaurants. When he got to Bosnia he couldn’t take the cold, the lack of sleep and the food. But instead of crawling back to London with his tail between his legs, he became a real soldier, one of the best men defending Sarajevo. He buckled down to it.’
‘When did you last see him?’
‘In London - 1997.’
‘So by then you had moved to New York and set up your practice in the Empire State?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you weren’t trained as an osteopath by then?’
‘No, I took the premises while I was training.’
‘Expensive.’
‘Mr Harland, that’s what I wanted. I was a rich young man. So was Karim. It wasn’t a problem for me, you understand. ’ He paused. ‘So, have you heard enough about us?’
He shook his head. ‘I am not going on the run with you, Doctor. You’re going to see the FBI and tell them what you told me. Straight. Explain who Karim is.’
‘They’ll put me in prison.’
‘They won’t be able to: Ollins will come in here and talk, then he will leave. ’
 
The interview went on until dawn in Harland’s office. Ollins insisted that Harland leave so he went off and found himself somewhere to stretch out. He was woken by the toe of Ollins’ well-worn black brogue at six, but had to be helped up.
‘You’re too old for this shit, Harland,’ said Ollins, without letting the slightest sympathy crack his face. ‘Why don’t you stick with the water sports in Dubai?’
‘Water supply, Frank - drinking water for people who don’t have it.’
‘You know what, Harland? Your back quack doesn’t ring true to me. Just because we can’t lay a glove on him now doesn’t mean we’re going to quit trying.’
‘But you got some of what you wanted?’
‘Nowhere near.’
‘Still, you have to agree you’ve had unobstructed access to someone in UN custody.’
Ollins levelled his gaze at him. ‘I just want to know one thing. What are you and the Secretary-General going to do if this guy is a terrorist, as we believe he is? How are your boys in the
press department
going to spin that one? “Jaidi Aide Gave Terrorist UN Haven.” Don’t imagine Jaidi will stand by you for that. He’ll stiff you, Harland, and then where will you go - a guy with a back problem who knows about water? Huh?’
‘I’ll get someone to show you from the premises, Special Agent,’ said Harland.
When he returned to his office he found Loz gazing meditatively along the East River. ‘What do you want me to do, Harland?’ he asked.
‘What did you tell Ollins?’
‘Everything I told you.’
‘Good, that should keep him quiet for a while. The canteen will open soon. You should go and have breakfast while I think and make some calls.’
As Loz wandered off, Harland received two calls in rapid succession, the first from an assistant Secretary-General who was with Jaidi in Cairo, wanting to know the situation. The second came from a man named Charlie Coulson, one of several MI6 officers attached to the British Mission to the UN. Coulson had somehow heard about the situation and tried to impress upon Harland the need to get Loz out of the UN as soon as possible.
‘We don’t want this to turn into a stand-off between the Americans and the UN with a Brit in the middle,’ he said. There was something about the way he was speaking that made Harland think that there were others listening. ‘Look, is there any chance of you leaving your chap and having a cup of coffee with me? There’s a place called The Sutton Coffee House on First Avenue. I’ll see you there in twenty. Your man’s not going anywhere without you.’
Coulson was in a booth reading the
Financial Times
. He was exactly as Harland had guessed from his voice - a combination of military briskness and social ease. He was in his forties and wearing a dark blue suit, suede loafers and a spotted tie.
‘We’d like to know what you’re up to with this character,’ he said, after the waitress had brought coffee.
‘That’s UN business, I’m afraid.’
‘We think it goes beyond that,’ said Coulson. ‘We understand Secretary-General Jaidi is involved. That makes it very high profile. Tell me, what do you know about Loz?’
Harland didn’t reply.
‘For instance, did you know that before he started squiring half the available crumpet in New York, he fought in the Balkans and is very, very rich?’
‘He doesn’t make any secret of it.’
‘Right,’ said Coulson, looking slightly disappointed. ‘But we think he’s important and I know the Chief is most concerned. ’ This was a common enough ploy. The Chief wants this; the Chief thinks so and so; the Chief has placed the highest priority… It was all bullshit. When Harland was in the Service he used it often, implying to some greedy little defector that his case was under the constant scrutiny of the head of the British Secret Intelligence Service.
‘I’m sure he is. Even in his final days at Vauxhall Cross, Sir Robin Teckman is watching developments in a thousand intelligence arenas with the keenest interest.’
‘In this instance it happens to be true.’ Coulson got up.
Two men had materialised by the booth. One of them was the unmistakably patrician figure of Sir Robin Teckman; the other was his bodyguard. Teckman placed a hand on Harland’s shoulder. ‘Don’t get up, Bobby,’ he said.
Harland couldn’t help returning the smile. He had always liked and admired Teckman. ‘What the hell are you doing here, Chief?’
‘Oh, you know, routine stuff. But I must say it’s very pleasant to be in New York at this time of year. The city gives one a spring in the step. I used to love it when I was doing my time at the UN.’
His guard dropped back to the bar and the three of them were left alone.
‘We were talking about the situation at the UN,’ said Coulson.
‘I dare say,’ said Teckman, fixing Harland with an interested gaze. ‘Bit of a mess, is it Bobby?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘I’m glad you say that, because from the outside it looks rather as though it is. I mean, he can’t live in your office for ever, can he?’ He paused. ‘I think we ought to be open with you. This man Loz interests us. We’ve been watching him, though not as intensely as your friends in the FBI.’
‘Why?’
Teckman gave him the stonewall smile. ‘Suffice it to say, we were never totally convinced by his story.’
‘But why would you even be aware of his story?’
‘We’re always interested in the Secretary-General’s friends. Loz came to our notice a year or so ago and we felt he was not quite twelve apples to the dozen. We want you to stick with him. Find out everything he knows. ’
‘I don’t work for you,’ said Harland testily.
‘But how does this compromise your position, Bobby? You would simply be doing what Jaidi asked you and letting us know as you go along. And of course you will want to keep in touch with Dr Loz because of your back.’ He let out a chuckle. ‘I hear he’s very good but I wonder whether he has done all he can for you. That would be one way of keeping your interest, wouldn’t it?’
That thought had occurred to Harland as he had lain face down on his desk the previous evening. ‘My impression is that Loz is far too sophisticated and too successful to be involved in any kind of terrorism,’ he said defensively. ‘He’s got everything to lose.’ He wondered how much they knew about Loz’s friend Khan. Probably nothing if they hadn’t already mentioned him.
‘Sophistication doesn’t rule out evil. But in substance I agree with you. Still…’ He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. ‘I believe he can lead us to something very important, and I want you to let him take you with him. You won’t even have to tell us anything. Just be aware that we’ll be behind you.’

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