It is now two minutes to noon, and Jackson’s gut tightens as he and Yassin intently study their surroundings. Pete reaches the vehicle and sits on the bonnet, his camera beside him.
“Better get the camera ready, Pete,” says Jackson. Pete shrugs irritably and switches it on. “Christ, mate! You’re really getting on my tits!”
Jackson ignores the complaint and studies his watch intently as the seconds and minutes tick by. It is now five minutes past the hour. Nothing has happened and he begins to feel a mixture of disappointment and relief.
He dials Mack on his mobile, but before the call can be picked up, there is a loud rumble. The road beneath them vibrates, then shakes violently. Pete is toppled from the bonnet onto the road. He jumps up and begins filming wildly, not understanding what is happening or what will happen next.
Jackson and Yassin, still in their car, watch stunned as the embassy is jerked from its foundations and splits apart. Flames, smoke, rocks and earth shoot high into the sky. Pete steadies himself against the car as he continues filming the surreal scene unfolding before him.
Debris begins raining down on Pete and the car. Pete is knocked to the ground. The windscreen of the car is shattered.
Yassin scrambles into the back seat, forces a door open and drags Pete and his camera inside. He is bleeding from dozens of cuts on his head, arms and hands. Despite this, he thrusts the camera out the window and resumes filming.
There is another, different rumble as the shattered embassy building sinks into the ground in slow motion. It comes to rest a couple of metres below the level it was just seconds before. A brief chilling silence follows, broken only by the sound of debris falling back to the ground. Then there are screams from the injured and the terrified.
“Fuck me!” exclaims Jackson to himself, “that’s pay-back – big time!”
******
At the bureau, Mack, Samira and Farouk hear the sound of the explosion as it bounces back and forth across the city. “Boy, that’s a really big one, Mack!” shouts Samira. “And I bet it’s the American Embassy,” Mack shouts back.
He runs to his phone and tries to raise Jackson, but Jackson is simultaneously trying to phone him. Then the mobile network is shut down.
“Did they take the satellite kit with them?” Mack calls to Farouk.
“Yes, boss, they have all they need.”
“Thank God for that!”
“I hope the boys are all okay,” says Samira.
“Oh, they’ll be alright,” replies Mack as he dials the Foreign News Desk in London to tell them to clear the decks for a big story.
******
There is chaos at the wrecked American Embassy. As Pete and Yassin line up their portable transmitter with a satellite, Jackson tries to assemble some coherent thoughts for a live report. Bewildered residents and workers in the neighbourhood emerge into the streets to survey the wreckage. Part of the embassy is on fire and some of the wounded are desperately clambering from the wreckage of what had, until a short time ago, been widely considered to be a terrorist-proof fortress.
The satellite link with London is operational and Pete connects his camera, ready to transmit his pictures uncut and live into World News. Yassin is concerned about Pete’s injuries, but he insists they are nothing to worry about. Blood is running down his face, but he wipes it away on his shirt sleeve.
There is a crossover from the World News and Pete turns his camera on Jackson for a breathless live introduction to the startling film taken as the embassy is destroyed. Pete then transmits further live pictures back as Jackson runs to the twisted embassy railings to look into the wreckage. He can see a number of bodies. The sirens of the emergency services can be heard approaching.
Mack is astonished as he watches the World News output on the monitors in his office. He is frustrated that his leg wound stops him from joining his team on the scene. Samira volunteers to go instead. Mack agrees and says Farouk should go with her to provide technical back-up.
Samira and Farouk’s trip by taxi to the embassy is a difficult one because many roads are choked or closed to allow ambulances and security vehicles unrestricted movement. They are forced to make the final few blocks by foot.
Samira is horrified to discover Pete in shock and near collapse from his injuries. She orders him to give his camera to Farouk and to lie down in the back seat of their vehicle where she can clean him up and bandage his wounds using the car’s First Aid kit. She remonstrates with him about his failure to wear his flak jacket and helmet.
The CNN crew arrive on foot, having been unable to negotiate the traffic in their car. They have a camera, but no satellite equipment which had to be left in their vehicle. Almost at the same time, the Al-Jazeera team arrives, also on foot and breathless.
Jackson is in the middle of a live report with Farouk operating the camera. The moment he finishes he is approached by Jane Kubinski and Omar Abbas, both demanding to know how he came to be on the scene at such a fortuitous time.
“Just a coincidence,” he insists. “Nothing else was happening, so Mack sent us here to do a possible follow-up to yesterday’s story. We just got lucky again.”
“Bullshit!” shouts Jane.
“I agree,” says Omar. “Something fishy is going on with your tip offs, Jacko.”
Jackson shrugs dismissively. “I can’t stand around arguing with you about this. I’ve got another ‘live’ to do. If you stop your sour-grapes whingeing, I’ll try to find you both a couple of five-minute slots on our satellite.” He goes back in front of his camera and prepares for another cross-over.
Samira concludes that none of Pete’s injuries requires urgent hospital attention. She does what she can to make him comfortable and goes to the wreckage of the embassy. A couple of marines are doing their best, without much success, to hose down the fire raging at the back of the building. A string of stretchers bring out the casualties. Among the walking wounded is press attaché Randy Abrahams who is escorting a stretcher about to be loaded into an ambulance. Samira runs to him. “Are you okay?” He nods. “Yes. Just minor cuts, I think, but he’s not too good.” Samira turns to see Ambassador Costello lying motionless on the stretcher in a blood-covered and ripped shirt and boxer shorts.
“Oh my God!”
“The ceiling of his office collapsed on him,” explains Randy. “I doubt he’ll make it to the hospital alive.”
Samira runs back towards Jackson, who is in the middle of another live report and having to shout to be heard above the noise. She stands by the camera, waving her hands frantically to indicate that she has important news. Jackson motions her over to join him in front of the camera.
My colleague Samira Lang has been over to the ruins to watch the rescue operation. What can you tell us?
Well, the most important news, Jackson, is that among the many casualties being brought out from the wreckage is the American ambassador, Andrew Costello. I saw that he was very badly wounded.
Are you quite sure it is Ambassador Costello?
It’s definitely him. Our bureau chief, Mack Galbraith, and I had lunch with him, here at the embassy, only recently.
Thanks for that, Samira. The news about Ambassador Costello will certainly raise the anger here and in Washington to a much higher level – and I predict, a much more dangerous one. I believe the ambassador has a family connection to the White House. Is that correct, Samira?
Yes, it is. He’s a cousin of President Benson and I believe they’re quite close.
Thank you for that, Samira. That certainly adds another important element to the story... Now back to Bill Smythe in our studio in London.
“Don’t go just yet, Jackson,” Bill calls out. “Perhaps you can answer a question that’s already doing the rounds here: how did the terrorists manage to get so much high explosive beneath the embassy? Would they have used the drains, like they did during the recent assassination of the Central Arabian Development Minister, Khaled Mohamed?”
That’s a very
good question, Bill, but I have no answer to it – at least not just yet. Only yesterday, when I was reporting on the security exercise here, I asked the embassy people about the drains. They assured me that they had made them secure. The only other possibility that comes to mind is that the terrorists dug tunnels under the building and filled them with explosives. But that would be a hell of an exercise for a small group of people. And there’s another mystery: if you look behind me, you will see that the embassy appears to have dropped into a large hole. That’s quite baffling. Who dug that hole?
“Baffling indeed, Jackson,” agrees the anchor. “We’ll let you go for now and look forward sometime soon to the answers to those questions.”
Yassin has been listening to Jackson’s comments and goes over to him. “I know answer: catacombs,” he says in his halting English.
“Catacombs? What catacombs?”
“Catacombs under us.”
“Here in a Muslim country? Here in Central Arabia? Are you sure?”
“Long time ago many Christians here, before it Central Arabia. They put dead in catacombs,” Yassin explains.
“How do you know this?”
“I tourist guide before BBC. I take Christian groups there sometimes. Entrance in next street.”
“Fuck me, Yassin! Do many people know about the catacombs?”
“Many Armibar people know.”
“But not the Americans, it seems,” observes Jackson wryly.
Jackson tries to contact Mack with the news, but the mobile network is still down. He turns back to Yassin. “Could you take me to the catacombs entrance? Now?”
“Okay.”
Jackson has a problem. He is due to do another live report to London as soon as CNN and Al-Jazeera have finished borrowing his satellite link. Also, he doesn’t want his absence from the scene to raise any suspicions among his rivals. He goes to Samira and tells her that he and Yassin are popping into a nearby street to find some food and a toilet.
“What about your next ‘live’?” she asks.
“If I’m not back, you can do it.”
“Me?”
“Yes you!” he insists. “You’ll be fine. Just tell them what you’ve seen and any other information you’ve got. You’ll be fine. I know you will. Just talk to the camera as though you’re telling a friend what you’ve seen.”
Samira is pleased but equally nervous at suddenly finding herself thrust into the limelight on such a big story.
Jackson and Yassin go to their car and find Pete now sitting up but still rather numb. Jackson tells him they are off to check something out, without specifying what it is. They borrow Pete’s still camera and a torch from his box of kit.
Ten minutes later, Yassin is leading Jackson down a narrow cul de sac lined with stone buildings several centuries old. At the end, is a steel grilled gate across a tunnel entrance about two metres high and a metre wide. They see light smoke drifting from the tunnel and there is a strong smell of burning.
The gate is locked and Yassin knocks on a nearby door. It is occupied by the gate keeper, a man he knows from his time as a tour guide. He asks in Arabic for the key and enquires if there have been any other visitors to the catacombs in recent times. “Yes,” the gatekeeper replies in Arabic, “some workmen were here a few days ago to carry out repairs.”
“What sort of repairs?” Jackson asks in Arabic.
“The gate keeper shrugs. “I don’t know. But they had lots of cement.”
“Cement?”
“Yes, bags of cement. There was a truckload and they took it into the catacombs on a trolley.”
“Are you sure it was cement?”
“I didn’t check. It was none of my business.”
“Did you recognise the men?” Yassin asks.
“No, they were just workmen. They said they were from the government, so I gave them the key and they returned it later in the day.”
Yassin unlocks the gate and he and Jackson enter the tunnel. Although it is now two hours since the embassy explosion, there is still a strong smell of smoke. Dust also hangs in the air. The torch is required to see their way through about 200 metres of winding tunnel, which is strewn with rubble from the explosion. At the opening to the main cavern where the Christians used to place the bodies of their dead, they are confronted with an astonishing sight. There is a shaft of daylight cutting through the dust. It comes from a hole blasted in the roof. A large section of the embassy building has collapsed into the cavern. Bone fragments from bodies interred many centuries ago are scattered everywhere. The shouts of the rescue workers and their equipment can be heard from above, punctuated by occasional screams and calls for help from the injured.
Back on the surface, at the shattered embassy, Samira has been called upon to do a live report. She begins nervously, but in seconds forgets that she is being watched intently around the world by millions of TV viewers. She is swept along by a determination to report the latest developments to the best of her ability. Her report includes the news that the number of casualties could be as high as 300.
Mack is increasingly frustrated and tense as he sits powerless back at the bureau. His ashtray is overflowing as he lights one cigarette after the other. The mobile network is still down, so he is amazed to see Samira standing in for Jackson without explanation. He sits back and spontaneously begins clapping. “That’s my girl,” he shouts at the monitor.
The other monitors in Mack’s office show that CNN and Al-Jazeera have managed to get pictures from the scene, but they are brief and confined to the aftermath. It is obvious that those crews were not at the embassy at the time of the explosions. He is elated that his decision to act on the tip from Bin Hassan has paid off so spectacularly.
A flash comes up on his computer screen telling him that Ambassador Costello died from his wounds on his way to hospital.
Jackson and Yassin are finding it hard to take in the scale of what they are witnessing in the catacombs. Jackson takes a series of still photographs and curses the absence of Pete and his video camera. Yassin has a possible answer. “Give me camera,” he instructs Jackson. He examines the camera briefly then declares: “It can video. I point camera. You talk”.
Jackson hastily assembles some thoughts and delivers a piece-to-camera. He and Yassin run back to the others outside the embassy entrance. Pete has recovered sufficiently to take over the filming from Farouk and is busy capturing the rescue operation. Samira asks Jackson if he found any food. “Never mind food, we have something much, much better than that,” Jackson tells her as he takes the memory card from the still camera and gives it to Farouk. “Get that back to London straight away.”
Jackson sees that CNN and Al-Jazeera are doing live reports a short distance away and Farouk reports that they have managed to get their own satellite equipment to the location.
At the bureau, Mack lights up yet another cigarette and notes that all the television channels and news agencies are doing catch-up, while the World News anchor, Margaret Mathieson, is boasting that the BBC team were the only ones on the scene to catch the actual explosion.
Mack decides it is time for a calming whisky. He goes to the cupboard and finds the bottle that had been drunk dry by Jackson. He blames Dick Passick, but his irritation is temporary when he hears the World News anchor introducing the video made by Yassin and Jackson in the catacombs.
“Jings!” shouts Mack as he watches in astonishment as Jackson does his piece-to-camera. The video has an unsteady “amateur cameraman” look, adding to its visual impact. “Wow, wow, wow!” exclaims Mack. When the catacombs video ends, the screen cuts back to Samira confidently interviewing Jackson and Yassin about how they found the catacombs. Mack’s day is made all over again!
Jackson and Samira finish their ‘live’ and she warns him that the CNN and Al-Jazeera crews are “steaming mad” about being scooped.
“Just sour grapes,” replies Jackson with a shrug.
“It’s more than that,” she says. “They think ther
e’s something very questionable about how you get advance information about these terrorist stories. They're right. I think there’s something odd going on as well.”
“Don’t worry about it, Samira. One day I’ll be able to explain. Meanwhile, I’d better go and see our competitors and sort something out with them. I don’t want to piss them off unnecessarily.”
A Central Arabian Army truck arrives with headlights flashing and horn tooting. The back is packed with men and women wearing flak jackets emblazoned with the word “Press” in English and Arabic and protected by four soldiers ostentatiously waving their automatic weapons.
The crews from CBS, ABC and Fox and an assortment of journalists and producers jump down from the truck, anxious to catch up with events while one of their number hands over a fistful of dollar notes to the driver.
“Ah, I see the big boys have just flown in from Jordan and Israel and paid their way to the scene,” observes Jackson with a smile.
“You’d better go over and make ‘friendly’ with them,” Jackson tells Samira. “Keep them distracted while I pacify Jane and Omar. If they want to know what’s going on, tell them to tune into the BBC,” he laughs.
Jackson waves over Yassin and they both go to where CNN and Al-Jazeera are set up, side-by-side. Jane and Omar have just heard about the catacombs film and are in no mood for civil conversation.
“Calm down, guys,” Jackson instructs them. “You know the score. I beat you on the past few stories, but don’t forget you walked all over me with your film of that violent demo a while back. I nearly lost my job over that.”
“Fuck you!” shouts Omar. “Something doesn’t add up, Jacko.”
“Hey look,” he replies. “Let’s talk about this over a drink in the next day or so, but first I’m about to make you an offer: It was Yassin who tipped me off about the catacombs and he’ll take you there and explain their history. That’ll leave you ahead of the lot who’ve just flown in. Okay? ”
The Mortal Maze Page 24