by Henry Porter
Samson cleared his throat. ‘I’m sure this was the other man in the back of the pickup. He had a bandage.’
Nyman nodded without interest and turned from the wall to face the table. ‘It’s obviously only a matter of time before we have a photograph of Al-munajil. The question is whether we make an interception now, or do we wait and watch? Our people in Bosnia believe that if we delay we will learn much about the network there and its connections to Northern Europe.’
Spannagel from the German BND spoke first. ‘Since these two men have connections with my country, we may assume that they are returning to Germany with a view to mounting an attack. We are strongly in favour of the earliest possible interception, but we recognise that this is your operation, so my government is prepared to consider a time limit of between three and seven days.’ Verhoeven from the Belgian State Security Service was content with that and the French wanted an assurance that there would be arrests within a week. ‘Intelligence is important but we have to balance this against the risk to our citizens,’ Anna Houlette said. ‘No intelligence is worth the mass slaughter of innocent people.’
Nyman nodded. ‘Then it’s decided. We will track these men with the help of local security forces, drawing on any assistance the Americans can give us for the next seven days. But if at any stage one of our governments calls for an interdiction, then it’s incumbent on us to respond as soon as it’s feasible. Is that agreed? We will have complete information sharing so that each government has the ability to raise a red flag at a moment’s notice.’
Samson shifted in his chair, prompting a less than friendly look from Nyman. ‘Do you know where they are now?’ he asked, allowing his frustration to show.
‘Not at this minute, no, but we expect them to cross the border into Serbia soon, and make their way to Bosnia. We believe we know the identity of the man who’s driving them.’
‘What about the boy? I understood this was all about him, about the things he’d learned and witnessed in Syria while with these men. It’s clear from Sonia’s interview with his mother that he spent a lot of time with them. What did he learn during that period? What does he know that’s so important to them? I’m just wondering if we are reading this wrong.’
‘How so?’ asked the BND man.
‘We’re making the assumption that the boy is not important to these men,’ replied Samson, ‘yet they have clearly followed him through Turkey, Greece and now Macedonia. Is this coincidence, or are they, as we originally suspected, a team sent to kill him?’
‘Which do you think it is?’ asked Louis Fremon from the DGSE.
‘I believe they are pursuing Firefly and need to eliminate him before they leave the Balkans,’ said Samson. ‘Whether they plan attacks in Europe after that I cannot say.’
‘Of course, there’s no evidence for the primary motive you suggest,’ said Nyman.
‘It wasn’t my suggestion,’ said Samson. ‘It’s what you told me when you hired me to find him. I believe that holds true today and it’s worth putting some effort into finding the boy.’
‘But we have no idea where Firefly is,’ said Nyman. ‘You lost him yesterday and admitted he could be anywhere.’
‘I’m hoping to have something to work on by the end of the morning,’ he said.
‘But he’s not the danger,’ said Fremon. ‘These men are known to be killers and they are on European soil and travelling to the heart of Europe. We can’t divert valuable resources to finding a boy who represents no threat whatsoever.’
‘Unless you believe he is the reason they are here,’ countered Samson. ‘That’s my bet.’
‘That’s exactly what it is,’ said Nyman curtly, ‘one of your bets – a punt, a gamble. We have to be sensible about this. Our focus now must be these men.’ He looked round the table for agreement, which came with a series of nods. ‘Obviously you will all report back to your heads of service and ministers. Unless I hear to the contrary, we will assume that we have a week to observe these individuals and then we’ll decide what action to recommend to our governments.’
Samson’s personal phone began to vibrate. He looked down and saw a familiar number. It would be a good excuse to leave. ‘Sorry, I must take this,’ he said, getting up.
In the corridor, he answered. ‘Mother, how are you?’
‘Where are you?’ asked his mother accusingly. ‘You’re abroad – there was a strange type of ringing. Why didn’t you tell me you were going away?’
‘I did – you didn’t listen,’ he said, smiling into the phone. ‘What’s up with you? How’s business?’
‘I haven’t called to talk to you about the restaurant. Where are you? What are you doing?’
‘I’m having a very pleasant time. I’ve been to a Greek island and now I’m doing some walking, looking at marvellous scenery and eating very good rustic cuisine in the mountains. But Mother, I’m a little busy right now. Can we speak later?’
‘You be sure to call me.’
‘Of course, Mother.’
She sighed again. ‘You come back soon.’
‘I have to go now. It was lovely that you called. I’ll see you very soon.’
‘Be safe,’ she said before hanging up. His mother was no fool; she had some idea of what Samson did for work, though she never went so far as to ask him directly because she didn’t want to know the details.
Fell came up to him with her keen, happy-to-be-at-work smile. ‘He wants to talk to you. He’s just having a word with our French colleagues, but he hasn’t got long. He’s going to see the head of Macedonian intelligence with the ambassador. They expect it to be a difficult meeting. Then we’re going to Belgrade.’
‘You and Nyman?’
She hooked her hair behind her ear. ‘Sure.’
‘You aren’t going back to Turkey?’
She shook her head.
‘And you knew last night you weren’t returning.’
She shrugged. ‘I wasn’t absolutely certain what he wanted me to do. But I was in Belgrade and I know some of the people there.’
‘I get it. Nyman sent you on your little day trip to Turkey to find out about Naji. You know that the kid is exceptional – you told me yourself that the caliphate valued him for all his gifts, but then you reported back that there was no evidence that Naji knew anything that was worth our continued effort to find him. Doesn’t that seem contradictory? But I guess the point is that with the picture of Ibrahim from the service station CCTV, plus the imagery from Athens, Nyman has all the evidence he needs to mount a full-scale search for the Al-munajil unit.’
‘That’s our job, Paul – to find the terrorists.’
‘Meanwhile O’Neill had a look at Naji’s phone and found nothing, and Nyman concluded that the boy could be forgotten. Is that about right?’
‘I’m not saying any of this,’ she said quietly. ‘You just worked it out for yourself, okay?’
‘Of course.’ He looked down.
‘You did such great job, Paul. Without you, we wouldn’t know these men were in Europe.’ She stopped and laid a hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry.’
He shook his head at her insincerity. ‘Don’t be. This is the business we’re in. I’m not going to talk to Nyman. He’s just going to formally cancel the contract to find Naji.’
‘He wants to thank you as well.’
‘No need for it. Tell him he can settle up with Macy and I’ll put my expenses in the post.’
‘Paul, have a word with him, please. He’s fantastically grateful about Al Kufra, which they didn’t mention just now. He’s already singing. Everyone in there will benefit from the intelligence he provides. He wants to thank you for that too, not least because the Macedonians feel they were involved and that will help him in his meeting later.’
He stared at her. ‘This is the usual bullshit, Sonia, and you know it.’ He stopped and took
a breath. ‘The boy is still important to this investigation, whatever anyone says, but he is also a human being who needs our help, and whether we like that or not, we are stuck with that responsibility.’ He turned, went a few paces, then stopped. ‘If you’re not going back to Turkey, you won’t mind giving me the family’s coordinates – numbers and details of the camp et cetera?’
Samson noted the look that entered her eye. Bureaucratic possessiveness, he supposed.
‘Well, I’m not sure that I can . . .’ she began.
‘You wouldn’t have found them without me. You owe me – Nyman owes me. You just said that.’
‘Okay, I’ll email you later.’
‘Text me now, so I know I’ve got everything,’ he said firmly.
With her mouth a tight line, she worked at her phone. The text arrived. Samson read it before turning to the door again. ‘Thanks, Sonia, and good luck. You’re going to need it,’ he said bleakly.
Outside, he walked a little way before lighting a cigarette. He was angry, but also pleased that they had not the slightest control over him and that he could do what he wanted. It was colder now, and through the veil of the city’s pollution he noticed the peaks to the north and west were showing much more snow. An icy breeze tugged at the dirty yellow leaves of a nearby cherry tree. Winter was coming. He would get a parka at the store next to the hotel. He took a couple of puffs and dropped the cigarette. He dialled a number. ‘What’ve you got for me?’ he asked when Vuk picked up.
*
He was on his second cup of coffee waiting for Vuk in the hotel lobby when he became aware of movement to his right. He looked up to see not Vuk, but the impeccably dapper figure of Denis Hisami, brother of Aysel Hisami.
‘I’m sorry to spring this surprise on you, Mr Samson,’ he said, peeling off his gloves.
Samson smiled and began to clamber out of the awkward, low chair.
‘Please don’t,’ said Hisami, slipping into the chair next to him. ‘The moment I heard from Mr Harp, I knew I should come. My plane landed three quarters of an hour ago. Not bad – about twelve hours door to door.’
Hisami had one of the most intelligent and calm faces Samson had ever encountered. He looked eagerly at you through small, rimless oval glasses, the sort that you might see in photographs of musicians and artists from the early twentieth century. His hands rarely moved, and he always wore the same expression of polite anticipation, as though his interlocutor was about to say something incredibly fascinating. He was dressed in a white polo shirt, a light sports jacket, tan trousers and sneakers with olive green and pale orange flashes that picked up the colours in his jacket. If you ignored the men who had arrived in the lobby with him, the only sign of the wealth that had brought him to Skopje so fast was a large gold watch on his wrist.
‘That is fast,’ said Samson. ‘Coffee?’
‘That would be very pleasant. A large espresso, if they run to that.’
Samson signalled to the receptionist, whose antennae had already picked up on Hisami, and he rushed over.
‘Just so you know what’s going on,’ said Hisami, ‘through contacts he has had here since the break-up of the former Yugoslavia, Mr Harp arranged for me to hear first-hand from the people interviewing Al Kufra and to gain from them as much knowledge of the fate of my sister as I am able.’
Samson nodded but said nothing.
‘I know what you’re thinking, Paul. You believe this will be a painful experience for me. That’s true – it will be. Mr Harp has warned me that the pictures of my sister are extremely distressing. But I have prepared myself. I owe it to Aysel to know her in her final despair.’ He stopped and looked across the wide, dreary lobby of polished marble and pot plants. ‘As a family member of one of Al Kufra’s victims, I am to be allowed access to this man.’
Samson was surprised that Hisami had pulled strings so quickly, but as an early investor in social media and in Apple’s revival by Steve Jobs, Hisami was one of the richest men in the world. He also had Macy Harp on his side, which helped to open doors across the West.
‘You may think that you have steeled yourself,’ said Samson, ‘but I strongly recommend that you do not see those photographs.’
‘You must say that. I would say the same to you. But you should understand that I am honouring my sister in this way. I loved her very deeply, Paul. We had been through a lot together – moving to America when most of our family members were wiped out under Saddam Hussein. We were each other’s witness – do you understand what I mean by that? That’s why I’ve come. This is an act of witness to my sister’s final days.’ The equanimity of his manner had not changed, but his eyes betrayed profound grief, and he looked straight at Samson to show that he didn’t mind him seeing it. ‘You’ve done a remarkable thing in finding this man. I cannot thank you enough.’
‘It was luck. If Al Kufra hadn’t stolen the phone from the young boy I’m looking for, we’d never have caught him, and then it was only by chance that I looked on his phone and investigated the photographs.’
‘Are there many?’
‘Yes, several hundred. Our people have downloaded them and are in touch with Yazidi, Kurdish and Christian organisations that are working with the families of the missing.’ He paused. ‘I am very sorry I didn’t get her out. I hope you know that.’
‘I knew you were putting everything you had into it, even when we tried other avenues apart from yourself. You will, I hope, forgive me for using other people. I understood that she couldn’t withstand that treatment for very long.’ He looked away. ‘My sister operated only in the sphere of good. I know that sounds pretentious, but it is true. There was no time for love or emotional self-indulgence, either. She devoted herself to the care of others, to the memory of our family and to our cultural heritage. No one was more Kurdish.’ He smiled. ‘And you know what? She was also very funny – a really fantastic mimic.’
‘Yes, you told me when we first met.’
‘I am sorry – I’m inclined to go on about her. She would be embarrassed and annoyed with me. You know that I’m building a medical facility at the hospital where she carried out her research? We’re going to be treating an awful lot of kids there. It will be named after her.’ The espresso arrived and he sipped it, studying Samson. ‘I don’t know much about what you’re doing here, except that you’re looking for this boy. Is there any help that I can give? Anything you need?’
‘Nothing I can think of. We just have to find him as soon as possible.’
‘You have all the resources you need, I take it? This is a government operation, right?’
Samson said nothing.
‘It is fully resourced?’
‘The emphasis has moved from the boy. He’s not the priority he was.’
‘I’m not sure that I understand what you’re saying, but I surmise that you’re continuing to look for the boy, if your conduct in my sister’s case is anything to go by.’
‘Yes,’ said Samson. ‘I may need to buy some help at a later stage, but there’s no point until I have an idea where he is. We lost him yesterday.’
‘You only have to say the word. I’d like to reward you for this breakthrough, and for all the work that I heard you did without being paid. Mr Harp told me you went into Northern Syria after we started exploring other possibilities, and that you were very nearly killed.’
‘He’s exaggerating quite a bit.’
‘I doubt it,’ he said, and gave Samson a card. ‘These are all my numbers. You can always find me.’
‘How long are you going to be here?’
‘As long as it takes to identify the man who caused my sister’s death. To that degree I’m an unreconstructed Middle Easterner, Mr Samson. I cannot turn the other cheek. I think she’d disapprove, but then I’m not as good a person as she was. She had no idea of the nature of this enemy. They were different to anything she had exp
erienced, even in wartime, but she went because she knew her people needed her.’
‘Yes,’ said Samson. ‘She was very brave.’
‘Do you know what I feel like? A cognac. What about you?’ Samson shook his head. Hisami nodded to one of his people, who went off to find the drink. ‘Is there anything I can do for you – really, I’d like to help you. I won’t feel happy unless you let me repay you – that’s my way.’
Samson thought. ‘You’ll think this frivolous in the circumstances.’
‘Try me.’
‘I’d like you to place a bet today on a horse race next week.’
Hisami smiled. ‘Really? That is an interesting request.’
‘The horse stands a good chance of winning, so it’s not a bad bet.’
Hisami’s eyes narrowed a little.
‘I’m thinking of a small amount, for you at least,’ continued Samson. ‘A few thousand pounds to win.’
‘That’s certainly possible.’
‘Maybe five.’
‘Five thousand pounds! Let me see – this must be a bet you don’t expect me to win.’
‘You could win, but I’m hoping that you don’t.’
‘So you favour another horse and are seeking to influence its price.’
‘Yes, but I’ve bet on this particular horse, too. If the horse I really favour wins, I’ll pay you the amount you put on your horse, which is currently favourite to win, as well as make a donation to the facility that you’re building – but only if mine wins.’
Hisami smiled. ‘So, there three possible outcomes for me – win, break even or lose. I’ll be betting against your choice, but I stand to gain if you win – or at least Aysel’s centre does. And I assume that you’re not going to tell me the name of the horse in whose favour you’re seeking to influence the market?’
‘Correct.’
‘This’ll certainly be a novel experience, and I think Aysel would have approved of the idea. Yes, I think she would have liked this rather dubious scheme of yours, Paul, and I believe she would have liked you, too. So, yes, I’m in.’