by Henry Porter
She nodded. ‘I should have guessed why you made so much of your contact with Benjamin Jaidi. You were staring your enemy in the eyes. What’s that quote about the riddle of steel and stone?’
Loz held his head back and stared at the rain. ‘It goes like this. “This riddle of steel and stone is at once the perfect target and the perfect demonstration of non-violence, of racial brother-hood, this lofty target scraping the skies and meeting the planes halfway, home of all people and all nations, capital of everything, housing the deliberations by which the planes are to be stayed and their errands forestalled.” Secretary General Jaidi likes that quotation but not for the reason I do. If you think about it, there is not one true statement in that quotation. It is all lies. Racial brotherhood… try being an Arab or an African. Home of all people and all nations… capital of everything… None of it is true. The only time the deliberations stopped the planes flying was in Bosnia when Muslims were being killed by Serbs as the West stood by. That’s when the United Nations stands back.’
‘Actually, I agree with most of what you say,’ said Herrick.
‘That’s because you are an intelligent woman,’ said Loz. ‘And you understand in your heart that that place cannot go on. Things must be changed from the outside. It is full of corruption. It is owned by you and the Jews and the Americans. You run it as though it is your back yard. How many times do you think the Americans have vetoed Security Council resolutions against Israel?’
Herrick shrugged and said she didn’t know.
‘Of course you do not because you do not notice these things. But we Arabs count. The answer is thirty-four times in the last three decades. What chance do the Palestinians have with that record?’
‘Are you using planes?’ she said calmly.
‘We are soldiers, we fight on the ground.’
‘So guns and explosives - bombs?’
‘No, Isis, I do not tell you. You will see soon enough. You will see everything from here, and you will hear about the other things we plan. Patience, little girl.’
Harland had used up most of his illicit supply of painkillers and was now feeling distinctly seedy. His sister Harriet was keeping him company through his sleepless nights by reading to him from the diary of Samuel Pepys, which she insisted had the right combination of titillation and longueurs. She’d told him she would leave as soon as he dropped off, but that didn’t look like happening soon because Harland couldn’t get used to the sensation of sleeping on his front, especially now the painkillers had upset his stomach.
‘Hold on one moment,’ he said to Harriet.
She smiled radiantly. ‘What, darling?’
‘I think I should check on someone. Haven’t heard from her since this afternoon.’ He eased himself from the bed, swung his legs to the floor, then groped for the phone secreted in his sponge-bag. He dialled Herrick and waited. The phone rang ten times before she answered.
‘How are you?’ he asked.
‘Fine,’ she replied.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Staring at the rain. There’s a big storm here.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Sure. I had a nice glass of wine with Ollins in the bar. He’s a real charmer. Now I’m back in the hotel room with a bottle of red and a book. It’s great. I couldn’t be happier, nor more relaxed.’
‘Isis, are you all right?’
‘Sure, I’m just a bit sleepy. Early start tomorrow. Got to hang up now.’
‘Isis? Isis?’
She had gone.
‘Something’s wrong,’ he said, looking at Harriet. ‘I mean, this is a woman who makes you look straight-laced and dowdy. She is utterly driven. Doesn’t sleep until she’s attacked a problem a thousand different ways. I’ve never seen anyone like her before - not in my former line of work, anyway.’
‘You sound smitten,’ said Harriet.
Harland brushed this aside. ‘The point is that everything she said was untrue. For instance, she said she had been to a bar with Ollins. She said he was charming. Whatever his merits, Special Agent Ollins is not charming. In the circumstances, it is utterly unlike her to curl up with a book and a bottle of red wine. So it follows that when she said she couldn’t be happier or more relaxed she meant she was exactly the opposite. She has to be in some kind of trouble.’
Harriet saw he was serious. ‘What’re you going to do?’
‘I’ll phone Teckman, then try Ollins.’
Standing in the centre of the room, Herrick lowered the phone and deliberately pressed the button to end the call that Loz, with some pleasure, had insisted she take while he pressed Foyzi’s gun to her neck.
‘That was good, Isis. You’re quite the actress.’ Loz laid an arm across her shoulder and gave the gun back to Foyzi. ‘Another time and another place, we would have been a sublime match. As the Prophet said, “to taste each other’s little honey.” ’
She looked into his eyes and saw an oscillation in his pupils and what she decided was a profound and insane puzzlement. ‘Do you know what you’re doing? I mean, do you have any real understanding of other people’s pain?’
‘Of course I do. Look at Karim. I have done everything that a man could do for his friend. I have cleaned and mended his body, lavished my skill on his injuries. That is an understanding of pain and it is proof of the debt I owed him.’
‘What makes Karim different from the people you’re going to kill tomorrow? When Langer explodes his bomb or Ajami spreads the poison that infects the bodies of children and pregnant women, or Aziz Khalil coughs out his germs, they will in all probability kill people who have a much greater capacity for good than you, Karim or I have. Why is Karim to be saved and those people destroyed?’
Loz looked mildly unsettled. ‘I do not have to answer to you.’
‘But you do,’ she said vehemently, chopping the air with one hand. The other slipped the open phone into her pocket. ‘I was the one who saved Karim Khan, not you. I risked my career to stop this man being tortured. If you don’t believe me, ask Gibbons. He knows what I did. He knows I risked my father’s life to free Khan and place him in your hands.’ Her hand went to her pocket and pressed a button at the right-hand corner of the keypad. ‘You owe me an explanation and you have a duty to yourself to reconcile these things in your head - hatred and love of humanity. Because the love you profess for Karim and Yahya is mere egotism unless you recognise that the part of them you love is the human part, the thing we all have in common.’
Loz wagged his finger. ‘If I spent any time with you I would go mad from these arguments of yours.’
‘It is not me that drives you mad,’ she said sadly, ‘it is reason.’ She stopped and, raising her voice, asked, ‘What good do you think will come of blowing up the UN building tomorrow? What do Langer and Khalil and Ajami and Latiah and Fatah think they’re doing? Sure, they’re going to kill an awful lot of people at the UN, but what good will that do? The world will look at Islam and say Muslims cannot be trusted. You will achieve nothing but the exclusion and revilement of your own people.’
Foyzi had moved round Herrick as she was speaking. Without warning, his hand dived into her pocket and pulled out the cell phone. He showed it to Loz and pointed at the number displayed on the screen. Loz looked at her furiously, took the phone and threw it against the floor, where Foyzi crushed it under his boot. Then Loz whistled round and caught her on the side of her face with the flat of his hand. Again and again he hit her until she crumpled to the floor. Finally he took the automatic from Foyzi and beat the back of her head and neck with it.
Harland had picked up the phone on the first ring and immediately signalled to Harriet to give him a pen and paper. Then, as he listened, he wrote the number of a direct line in Vauxhall Cross and frantically whirled his index finger in the air to tell her to dial it on the hospital phone.
Harriet’s call was answered and she nodded to her brother. Cupping his hand over his phone, he hissed,‘Tell them Herrick is with Loz in New
York. Tell them he’s alive. She’s left the phone on so I can hear.’
Instead of relaying this information immediately, Harriet said to the operator, ‘Put me through to Sir Robin Teckman and tell him to hold for a very important call from Robert Harland. Say those exact words to him. Mr Harland will be with you shortly. This is a matter of national security.’
Harland’s hand moved across the paper and he managed to write ‘UN - tomorrow - bomb (?) Langer, Khalil, Ajami, Latiah.’ He missed the last name and waited. But suddenly the line seemed to be overwhelmed by static, and then she was gone. He gave the cell phone to Harriet and took the hospital phone from her lap. ‘See if you can hear any more… Hello? Hello?’
‘Yes,’ said the duty officer at Vauxhall Cross.
‘I need to speak to the Chief.’
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible.’
‘This is a national security emergency. Get me Sir Robin. Tell him it’s Robert Harland.’ He gave an old identification code that he remembered from fourteen years before.
‘Just putting you through.’
After a couple of minutes the Chief came on the line. ‘Bobby, what can I do for you?’
‘Herrick’s in New York. She’s with Loz. He’s alive. She kept her phone on and I heard a conversation that seemed to suggest they’re going to blow up the UN tomorrow.’
‘Where is she exactly?’
‘I’ve no idea. But I just had a very odd, coded conversation with her when I called her a few minutes ago. I believe she saw a friend of mine from the FBI named Ollins, who was investigating the Loz case. She had a drink with him, so I would imagine he knows where she was going after that.’
‘Then get on to your friend.’
‘I tried after talking to her. His phone is off and I don’t have his home number.’
‘Then ring the bloody FBI in New York.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll send someone round to St Mary’s to be with you in case you get another call. Let me know what Ollins says and I’ll start cranking up things our end. If you need to call me again, tell the operator you’re ringing on a Code Orange matter. They won’t mess about if you say that.’ He hung up.
Harland called international directory inquiries on Harriet’s cell phone, got the number of the FBI in Manhattan, and found an equally unhelpful operator on the other side of the Atlantic. ‘This is very important,’ he said. ‘My name is Robert Harland. I am ringing from Secret Intelligence Service headquarters in London and I need you to trace Special Agent Ollins and get him to the phone. Do you understand?’
‘I am sorry, sir,’ said the woman at the other end. ‘I cannot do that at this time.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘I am not at liberty to tell you, sir.’
‘Let me just say this to you then. Ollins is in possession of information that may avert a terrorist attack in New York tomorrow. He may not know what he has. If you wish to keep your job beyond tomorrow afternoon, I suggest you get the Special Agent to the phone. I’ll wait here until you do that.’
The line went dead for what seemed a period of endless deliberation. Eventually a man’s voice came on the phone. ‘With whom am I speaking?’ he asked.
Harland gave his name. ‘I need to speak to Special Agent Ollins on a very important matter. The British government will be in touch with the US government in the next hour, but if you get Ollins for me we might just be able to short-circuit the system and avert disaster. It’s up to you. I hope for everyone’s sake you make the right decision.’
From the floor, Herrick could see Eva’s face, but not Gibbons’. She briefly wondered why neither had attempted to help her, but then reflected that they were both professionals and were likely to be playing a longer game, keeping themselves in reserve.
She raised her head slowly, giving the impression that she was more stunned than she actually was, and indicated to Foyzi that she would like to return to her place against the wall. Foyzi waved the gun with irritation. She crawled towards Eva and Gibbons and pushed herself up alongside them. Eva darted her a look that said, ‘wait’; Gibbons stared unblinkingly ahead.
Something had come to pass while she had been collapsed on the floor, too shocked and beaten to have taken much in. Loz had wheeled the bed next to the window, and was engaged in a heated exchange with Khan, although none of them could hear what was being said. Each time Khan spoke he lifted his head from the bed, the muscles in his neck strained, and his wiry legs twitched towards the floor. He was trying to get up to confront Loz on equal terms, but Loz wouldn’t let him, and interrupted by pressing down on his chest, leaning into his face to rebuke him.
Herrick slid down the wall a fraction so she could see Khan’s mouth under Loz’s elbow. When his head popped up again she had no difficulty in lip-reading what he said. ‘I don’t question your judgement, Sammi. But it was wrong to hit her. You have too much violence in you and I…’
He was again forced down, and this time Loz’s hand moved nearer his neck.
Eva spoke very quietly to Foyzi. ‘My people know of you. You’re a freelance. You’re not committed to this madness. My government will pay you five times what he has given you.’
He shook his head. ‘A deal is a deal.’
‘It wasn’t on the island,’ Herrick snapped.
Loz turned with one hand still restraining Khan. ‘Shoot them if they talk. Shoot them…’
The rest of the sentence was obliterated by a crack of lightning overhead. The Empire State was tapping the storm and drawing its power to earth. The lights flickered again and then went out completely. Gibbons hurled himself at Foyzi. Eva went to the right, rolling and springing to her feet like a gymnast to deliver several ferocious kicks to Foyzi’s upper body, just as he loosed off three rapid close-range shots at Gibbons. The gun dropped from his hand with the final kick. Herrick dived for it and came to her feet, aiming at Loz, who had not moved from his position near the window. She glanced left and right. Gibbons was hit; Foyzi lay dead from stab wounds from a knife still in Gibbons’ hand.
Nathan Lyne ran panting to Harland’s room after being driven across London in an unmarked Special Branch police car that topped 100 mph on the flat of Park Lane.
Harland had put the phone down on Ollins a few minutes before. ‘She’s in the Empire State,’ he said, turning to his address book. ‘The FBI man left her in Loz’s old office. She’s there by herself. I’m calling a friend who was due to meet her.’
Nathan took the hospital phone and spoke on the open line to Vauxhall Cross. ‘You got all that?’ he said. ‘What floor?’
‘Sixty-fourth,’ said Harland, hearing the first rings on Eva’s phone.
Eva heard her phone ringing out in reception and prayed it would be her headquarters in Tel Aviv. She ran out and picked it up, together with the gun that Foyzi had taken from Gibbons.
‘Yes?’ she barked, turning back to the room.
‘It’s Bobby. Where are you?’
‘The Empire State.’
‘Isis kept her phone on. We heard something. Is Loz alive? What the hell’s happening?’
Eva went back into the room, where Herrick was on one knee beside Gibbons. ‘It’s okay,’ she said between breaths, ‘we disarmed them. Your friend is here. She’s got Loz and Khan covered.’
Harland began to speak, but Eva lowered the phone because Gibbons was saying something. His voice was a whisper. ‘If you say where we are, every fucking jackass cop will be here. We don’t have time for that. We don’t know what these men have planned. We can’t let them be arrested.’
‘You’re losing blood,’ said Herrick. ‘You need to get to a hospital.’
‘Forget that,’ said Gibbons. ‘Just get these bastards talking.’
Harland told Lyne what he’d just heard on Eva’s phone. ‘They’re with another man - an American. They seemed to have overpowered Loz. This man has been hit, I think. He’s insisting they don’t get help until they’ve found out what
Loz was planning.’
Lyne frowned. ‘What the heck are they doing?’ He stopped and met Harland’s eyes, then spoke to Vauxhall Cross. ‘The situation is under control. Tell the FBI to hold off. This is very important.’
Eva put her phone on the table, went over to Loz and placed Gibbons’s gun at his temple. At the same moment, Herrick seized the end of the bed and wheeled it away from them.
The two women said nothing to each other. The situation was beyond words.
Herrick looked down into Khan’s eyes and murmured, ‘I’m sorry. I have to do this.’ Without thinking any more, she raised Foyzi’s gun, and brought the silencer and barrel down on Khan’s still-bloated right foot. He shrieked. She looked up at Loz. ‘Tell us the plan. Tell us where your men are. How many of them?’