Spy Shadows

by Freddie P Peters

  The Treasurer’s finger stopped on one bead and seemed to squeeze it tight. “How about you?”

  Henry did his best to look eager and pleased. He had bought himself a two-day respite, after which his future was less than certain. Henry settled back in his chair.

  Henry had spent more than two hours with The Treasurer. It was all about alternatives, planning the exchange, talking risk through, applying mitigation. The Treasurer’s round face had become flushed with content. The plan looked well thought through. He could with confidence discuss it with al-Baghdadi and his war council.

  Henry stood up and The Treasurer’s face suddenly dropped. Henry was about to sit down but he realised that The Treasurer was looking past him into the room that spread in front of his office. A small chill ran down Henry’s spine. Only one person could cause The Treasurer to be concerned.

  Al-Haddawi entered the office without knocking. He ignored Henry, sat on one of the chairs in front of The Treasurer’s desk, swung his legs up and set his dirty boots onto it.

  “So, Treasurer, you have a deal?”

  “We have a way of releasing our brother Abu Maeraka from the infidels’ clutches, yes.”

  “And you think your ‘fighters’” – Al-Haddawi smirked – “will be able to withstand an ambush?”

  “My fighters are at least as good as yours.” The Treasurer’s cheeks had gone a little redder than usual.

  “Shame I did not see any of them when I took Mosul.”

  “Shame you did not offer to test them when you took Mosul.”

  Al-Haddawi cast an eye on Henry. “And what is he going to do?”

  “Make the exchange,” Henry answered.

  Al-Haddawi’s light brown eyes ran over Henry with scorn and yet for a fleeting moment he showed surprise. Henry was not only a pen-pusher, he had the guts for the front line.

  Henry leaned on the back of the chair he had occupied, now half facing Haddawi. Something in Henry squirmed, a bubble of anger rising in his stomach. Memories of Belfast flooded his mind and he closed these gates promptly. He would not allow al-Haddawi to get under his skin.

  Haddawi’s eye ran from Henry to The Treasurer, from The Treasurer to Henry. The slight flare of his nostrils, the crease at the corner of his eyes, it was more than contempt.

  It was hatred.

  Al-Haddawi stood up and turned to face the door. Before Henry could move, Haddawi’s foot caught the leg of the chair on which Henry was leaning, throwing both to the ground. The fall was farcical, and Henry hit the floor like a puppet that had lost its strings. A hand of steel stopped him from getting up and lunging into his opponent. Henry started to laugh. It was a low rumble that shook his body in a small spasm until it became an outburst of derision and scorn.

  Was it the best Haddawi could do?

  Henry sat up to see Haddawi’s back disappear between the rows of the computer screens.

  “See you in two days’ time. Big man.” Henry stood up and straightened up the chair.

  The Treasurer grinned. He was backing the right horse.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Henry had waited at the Treasury until after prayer time. It was hard to stay calm when he was still wondering whether a call about Raqqa Stadium and Wasim would be placed with The Treasurer, and even harder to stay put when he had told Mattie he would be coming for her. But he could not afford to break the routine. He left as soon as he could and walked to the small shop he had once bought coffee from. It had just opened, and men were purchasing foods that would be consumed after sunset. Henry made his selection and bundled the lot at the back of the truck. He drove back to the hotel, dumped the truck close to the entrance, took the food he had bought and stepped in. Henry climbed the steps to the first floor two at a time and walked to Ali’s room. The young man asked who it was through the door when Henry knocked. Good… he was learning.

  “Make a bundle with your clothes and be ready when I come again. And keep these with you.”

  Ali nodded. He did not ask why. He did not care. All that mattered was that there was perhaps a way to escape this living hell.

  Henry climbed the stairs to the fifth floor. He found Wasim in his room. “I’ve cracked the laptop finally but I’m not taking the risk. Any contact by phone?”

  Henry shook his head. “No contact by phone… They’re waiting for us to make the first move.”

  Perhaps we can?

  Henry produced a basic pre-paid flip phone out of one of his trouser pockets. “I lifted this from some young guy who was not paying enough attention to his stuff.”

  Wasim nodded. “That’s good.”

  “I spoke to Ali. He’s ready.” Henry handed the device to Wasim.

  “For what?” Wasim turned the phone over in his hand and opened the battery case to check for tracking devices. He was taking no chances. His brown eyes grew darker as he asked the question. “What have you said to Ali?”

  “Nothing, except to be ready for anything.”

  “Do I have to play the bad guy every time you make your next move?” Wasim was not shouting but his voice had lost its usual calm. “Are you telling me you want to take Ali with us?”

  “I am.” Henry held both hands up in an attempt to pacify Wasim. “Hear me out…”

  “No. Haven’t you learned anything?” Wasim slammed the desk with his fist.

  “Hear me out, please…” Henry’s face froze. Wasim was not the shouting type, so perhaps he had to listen to his objections. “Ali has helped us, the new car, the USB keys…”

  Wasim had stood up, pacing his room, hands at his waist. “And he can identify the car… I get that.”

  “He also knows Mosul, much better than us. He has just come back from it.” Henry waited for Wasim to stop.

  Wasim ran his sturdy hand through his hair, creating a wave of black curls.

  “He will know where the checkpoints are.” Henry carried on. “And…” he hesitated.

  “You don’t want to leave him behind, do you?” Wasim shot a dark eye to Henry. “We need to deliver the information back to London and by the looks of it, deliver Mattie as well… We’re stretching ourselves very thin.”

  “Granted, difficult but not impossible. Ali does not want to be here. He is not going to be a problem.”

  Wasim stopped pacing the room. “Fine, but if there is an issue with Ali, you will have to deal with him, you understand me?”

  Henry held his breath for a moment. His chest hurt and he released the inhalation. Henry gave a slow nod.

  “I want to hear it from you Henry. You will deal with him.”

  Henry closed his eyes. He heard himself say the words.

  “Yes, I will deal with him.”

  * * *

  Sunset at 7.45pm.

  Henry went back to his room and changed into fresh clothes. He might have to live in these for a while. The same khaki combat trousers, black shirt, a pair of special ops boots in a camouflage pattern. He spread the contents of the rucksack on the bed. His bugged phone had been left in the bathroom after he had taken his shower and would now stay there for the foreseeable future. He stuffed a couple of T-shirts at the bottom of the bag, matches, compass, small torchlight, multipurpose knife, his small notebook and pen, a bottle of water and the Glock they had taken from the guard at Raqqa Stadium. Henry unclipped the magazine. He had taken the gun apart yesterday, cleaning it meticulously, pulling each piece away and reassembling the gun methodically. He actioned the slide once more, pressed the trigger a few times. The grip felt solid in his hand. He slotted a magazine into the catch and slid the gun into the side pocket of the rucksack. It was now 7.30pm. The fighters who lived in the hotel would soon start to congregate towards the canteen again.

  Wasim walked through the open window that led to the terrace. He too was ready. Henry rolled his camouflage jacket in a ball and stuffed i
t in the bag. “Done.”

  “Phone?” Wasim’s face had grown serious: time to focus on the task that lay in front of them… Escape from Raqqa.

  “In the bathroom.”

  People started to fill up the corridor. The men were leaving their rooms to go to the ground floor. Henry and Wasim waited until the noise had died down. Henry opened the door.

  “Let’s go.” His voice was low and did not betray his heart pumping in his chest.

  Both men slid into the fire escape, silently descending the concrete steps that led to the ground floor. They waited another five minutes in semi-darkness. The sound of voices kept coming – the entire hotel seemed to be on the move. Henry used his small torch to check whether the door that opened onto the garden was alarmed. Wasim took a multipurpose knife out of one of his pockets, directed Henry’s torch to create enough light and cut the wire. Henry opened the door a fraction.

  No one around.

  The garden was now empty. They walked round the building stopping from time to time to listen to the sound coming from the hotel. The smell of cooking made Henry’s mouth water. Dinner would be the main attraction of the evening for a while.

  Wasim grabbed Henry’s rucksack and disappeared towards the SUV. Henry started walking towards the hotel lobby along the path that led from the secluded gardens to the hotel entrance when two cars drove through the main entrance and round the driveway. Four men dressed in the requisite black uniform and equipped with sub-machine guns jumped out and walked through reception. They knew where they were going. Wasim had noticed too. He kept going without hurrying. Henry froze. He retraced his steps and climbed the few stairs to reach the terrace. Men were queuing to pile food on their plates. Laughing, shouting. No doubt exchanging stories of their combat exploits. He mixed with the men and merged into the mass of people. The men that had just walked in were now surrounding the receptionist, dwarfing the man. He ran in front of them to lead the way. They were walking up the stairs. One man positioning in front of the lifts. Henry retreated to the far end of the lounge, slid towards the toilets and the fire exit. He climbed the stairs two at a time and reached the first floor.

  As he turned into the corridor he came face to face with an older man. He stopped to see where Henry was going. Henry kept walking towards the end of the corridor, choosing a door at random. It seemed to satisfy the old man who turned into the landing and started walking downstairs. Henry retraced his steps and knocked at Ali’s door. There was no response.

  “It’s Abu Shabh, open up.”

  Henry heard the lock turn. He pushed the door to get in. Ali’s small bundle was ready, time to go. Ali hesitated for an instant. Henry grabbed the food he had bought earlier. “We must go now.” Ali nodded. He too was ready.

  They walked to the fire exit, reached the gardens. Henry stopped. There was still no one in the gardens, but he could hear voices on the terrace. He turned around and walked in the opposite direction. A small wall separated the gardens and the car park. Henry and Ali scaled it and reached the secluded parking lot. The SUV was waiting for them. Henry jumped in the front, Ali at the back. Wasim slid the car steadily out of the hotel’s driveway as men were walking out of the hotel front door. Their car turned left into Malahi Avenue and deserted streets. Ali was clutching his little bundle of belongings. They looked at him in the rear-view mirror. There was nothing else showing on his face but fear.

  “The Treasurer is looking for us.” Wasim took some of the back streets.

  Henry turned his head as Wasim drove past a street he thought he should have turned into. “What are you doing?”

  “We’ve got to get out of here right now… Within a few minutes the streets are going to be crawling with The Treasurer’s men looking for us.”

  “No way…” Henry’s face jerked to face Wasim. “I’m not leaving her behind.”

  “We have no option. We must get out of Raqqa immediately.” Wasim clenched the wheel so hard that the veins of his hands bulged. He was focused on navigating the SUV through the maze of Raqqa’s small streets.

  “Stop the bloody car…” Henry slammed the dashboard.

  “No.” Wasim kept going, moving steadily towards the outskirts.

  “They’ll kill her if we don’t get her out.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I gave her my word…” Henry’s rucksack was in the back. He turned around, met Ali’s panicked face for an instant but still yanked the bag across and stuffed it in the small well in front of his feet. He fished the USB keys out. “These are in the inner pocket rucksack.” Henry fetched the Glock from the rucksack, shoved it in his waistband in the small of his back. “Stop the car or I’ll jump as you’re driving along.”

  Wasim glanced at him. Henry’s hand was resting on the door handle. He meant what he said. Wasim parked the car at the back of an old building. “Every minute we delay could cost us our escape. This is the mission.”

  “Saving the hostages has become part of the mission.”

  They turned to face each other awkwardly in the car.

  “You take the USB keys and go ahead. I’m getting Mattie out.” Henry had become resolutely calm.

  “You won’t make it out of Raqqa alive.”

  “I’ll take my chance.”

  “Henry, the exchange deal with the hostages is agreed… Mattie has a good chance to come out of it unharmed.”

  “She won’t and you know it.”

  Wasim slammed the wheel, reversed in an angry semicircle spin and drove back towards the centre of Raqqa. “You have five minutes… If you’re not out by then, I’m driving off.”

  “Understood.”

  They reached the block of apartments that was their new destination ten minutes later. Wasim parked the SUV a few streets away.

  “Five minutes.”

  Henry nodded. He donned his camouflage jacket and left the car. Two guards were at the door, eating from a plate that was overflowing. Henry did not acknowledge them and just walked in. He stopped from time to time on his way to the second floor, listening for movements in the building. He walked to the door of apartment 2 and knocked loudly.

  There was nothing for a moment. He knocked again as the locks were unbolted one by one and the door opened on an old woman in full niqab.

  Henry pushed his way in. “I have come to take the British journalist away. Fetch her for me.”

  The woman had closed the door and did not move.

  “Shall I fetch her myself?” The anger in his voice did not need to be faked. He was taking Mattie away whether the old woman liked it or not.

  “I have not been told.” The woman hesitated, the eyes underneath the niqab unsure.

  “I am telling you now…”

  The woman turned around towards the lounge and entered the kitchen. Henry did not wait for her to come back. He ran down to the last door in the corridor and tried to open it. “Mattie.”

  He heard footsteps. “I’m here. The door’s locked.”

  Henry assessed the wood panel, good quality but nothing his army boots could not handle.

  “Step away from the door.”

  Henry gave it a vicious kick. The sound of splintering wood echoed around the walls. Henry gave the door the foot again. This time the hinges caved in and it flew open in a crash of metal and wood. Mattie had dressed in a black abaya and niqab. He crossed the threshold and she threw herself in his arms. He held her tight for a few seconds.

  “We must go.”

  The old woman was running towards them. Henry couldn’t draw his gun, as the shots would surely alert the guards. He let her come towards him. The swing of the knife she was holding missed him, just. A back-foot kick came down with a vengeance against her back and the woman collapsed on the floor. His fist did the rest and the woman stayed still. Mattie hesitated and stepped over the limp body.

 
They walked out of the apartments. The guards stopped eating for a moment. They saw a man with a woman in his footsteps and smiled, a man about to have a good time.

  The SUV was waiting a few yards away from the entrance. The door opened and Mattie stepped in, next to Ali. Henry looked around. The car slowly glided forward. Mattie took the face scarf down and Ali’s eyes widened. His face broke into a joyful smile. It was good to see Mattie again.

  “Ali, do you have the clothes I asked you to bring?”

  “Yes, Abu Shabh.”

  “Give them to Mattie.”

  Wasim shook his head despite himself… brilliant idea.

  “Change into these. They will be looking for two men with a woman in a truck, not four guys in an SUV.”

  “Short hair was a good idea after all.” Mattie took the bundle of clothes. Mattie started taking off the abaya and Ali turned away from her. Even in the darkness of the car, his cheeks glowed.

  “Close your eyes. I’ll tell you when I’m finished.”

  Mattie wriggled out of the heavy dress. She had very little on underneath and Henry caught himself looking at her in the rear-view mirror. She smiled back at him with a side look that was humorous rather than offended. It was Henry’s turn to feel his cheeks warming a little.

  * * *

  Wasim again avoided the main avenues of Raqqa. He turned into small streets and down little lanes as if he had lived all his life in the city. They had lost 20 minutes and Henry gave him a sideways look. He could have sworn that, despite the strain to make up the time, Wasim had had a weight lifted from his shoulders. He too did not want Mattie harmed.

  “Did a good recce of possible exits when you were at the Treasury,” Wasim answered Henry’s puzzled look. His grip on the wheel was firm and yet fluid. It was gone 8.30pm when they reached the outskirts of the city. Wasim slowed down, found a slot and parked the car.

  “We are about to drive into Fardos Gate Street, getting out of the city. There is a checkpoint that we can’t avoid. We are on a mission for the Treasury, destination undisclosed.” Everyone nodded.