Vicious Circle

by Wilbur Smith

  ‘Go on!’ Hector invited him expressionlessly.

  ‘I accept the fact that my father and most of my brothers were pirates, acting in direct contravention of international law. They seized merchant ships on the high seas and held the crews to ransom. As a very young man I disassociated myself from these crimes committed by my family and I went to England to be as far as was possible from them. I have never considered that I had any right of retaliation against you or your family. I have told you that I met your wife and admired her. I was utterly devastated when I heard of her murder. It was against all the laws of man and God. However, I knew that after her death you would hunt me down to appease the sins of my clan.’

  ‘You have my full attention.’

  ‘I have dreaded this day of our meeting, but I have planned for it.’

  ‘I am sure you have,’ Hector retorted, and now his expression was grim.

  ‘Not in your way, for you are a hard warrior, Mr Cross, and yours is the way of the sword.’

  ‘Tell me then, Mullah Tippoo Tip. What is your way?’

  ‘My way is the way of Allah. My way is mutual forgiveness. My way is Al-Qisas. I offer you a life for a life.’ He stood up and went to the little huddle of abject humanity that cowered in the corner of the room. He took the child’s hand and led him to stand in front of Hector.

  ‘This is my son. He is six years old. His name is Kurrum, which means happiness.’ The little boy thrust his thumb back into his mouth and stared at Hector.

  ‘He is a beautiful boy,’ Hector conceded.

  ‘He is yours,’ Aazim Muktar said in Arabic, and he pushed the child gently forward.

  Hector jumped up from his chair in consternation. ‘In God’s name, what must I do with him?’

  ‘In Allah’s name, you must take him and hold him as a hostage against my good faith. If you find irrefutable proof that I killed your wife you must kill him as is your right in terms of the law of Al-Qisas, and I shall forgive you.’

  The woman screamed and threw herself across the floor.

  ‘He is my son. He is my only son. Kill me if you must, effendi. But do not kill my son.’ She tore off her veil and clawed at her own face, raking both her cheeks with her long nails. The blood welled from the long wounds and dripped from her chin. She crawled to Hector’s feet. ‘Kill me, but let my son live, I implore you.’

  ‘Be silent, wife.’ Her husband used a kindly tone. He placed a hand on her shoulder and drew her away. Then he came back to face Hector. From the folds of his white robe he drew out a leather wallet, and proffered it.

  ‘This is all the documentation you need in order to take Kurrum with you: his air ticket on today’s flight, his certificate of birth, his passport and the papers that name you as his legal guardian. What is your decision, Mr Cross?’

  Still Hector stood dumbstruck. This was the very last thing he had expected. He looked down at the child. He shook his head, as if to deny what was happening. He reached out and touched the boy’s head. His curls were crisp and springing under his fingers. Kurrum made no attempt to pull away. He lifted his head and looked at Hector. His eyes were dark and wise far beyond his years. He spoke softly. ‘My father says I must go with you, effendi. My father says I am now a man and I must behave like a man. It is the will of Allah.’

  Still Hector could not speak. His throat was dry and the pulse beating in his temples echoed through his skull like a drum. He stooped and picked up the child and held him on his hip. Kurrum did not struggle. Hector touched his cheek. Hector turned his head and looked back at the boy’s father.

  At last he was able to see through to his very core, and what he saw there was good. He knew at last with certainty that this man was not the Beast he was hunting.

  Hector turned back to the child on his hip. ‘You are my hostage, Kurrum.’ His mother heard him. She moaned. Hector ignored her and went on addressing the child. ‘Do you know what that means, Kurrum?’

  The boy shook his head, and Hector went on. ‘It means you are brave and good, as your father is brave and good.’ He replaced Kurrum on his feet, turned him towards his mother and gave him a gentle push. ‘Go back to your mother, Kurrum, and take good care of her, for now you are a man as your father was a man before you.’

  The woman held out both arms to him, and Kurrum ran into them. She swept him up and turned for the door. She paused when she reached it and looked back at Hector with tears and blood from the scratches streaming down her face.

  ‘Master…’ she started and then her voice failed.

  ‘Go!’ Hector ordered her. ‘Take your son, and go with Allah.’ She went and closed the door softly behind her. She left Hector and Aazim Muktar facing each other across the room.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Aazim asked.

  ‘I am as sure as I have ever been of anything in my life.’

  ‘There are no words that can express the extent of my gratitude.’ Aazim bowed. ‘You have given me a gift beyond any other I can imagine. I can never repay you.’

  ‘I am paid in full. Simply knowing a man of your sanctity has enriched my own life.’

  ‘I am still in your debt. My son’s life outweighs all else,’ Aazim told him sincerely. ‘I understand that you actually saw the man who murdered your wife, and that he wore a gang tattoo.’

  ‘Tariq Hakam told you that!’ Hector’s fury flared again. ‘That man is a traitor. He betrayed my friendship. One day I will kill him.’

  ‘No, Mr Cross. He is not your enemy.’ Hector shook his head adamantly, but Aazim held up a hand to restrain him. ‘One day you will realize that. Tariq Hakam asked me to give you a message. I promised to do so. May I tell you what he said?’

  ‘If you wish.’

  ‘He says that there was no other way to persuade you that you were looking in the wrong direction for your enemy. He said that you and I had to meet to understand each other.’

  ‘I will never take him back, no matter what he says. I can never trust him again.’

  ‘Tariq knows that.’

  ‘What will he do now?’

  ‘He is determined to turn aside from the warrior way. From now onwards he will follow the road that leads to the feet of Allah.’

  ‘So, he has discovered God and become one of your disciples, has he? Good for him, the old rogue.’

  ‘Old rogue. He told me that you would say that.’ Aazim smiled. ‘However—’

  He broke off as he was interrupted by a woman’s voice echoing over the airport’s public address system. This is a final call for all passengers travelling on Emirates Flight EK 805 to Abu Zara. This flight is closing at Gate A26. Passengers must proceed at once to Gate A26 for immediate boarding.

  ‘Our time together has come to an end, Mr Cross. When I lived in London I worked with a man there who devotes his life to helping rehabilitate young Muslim boys who had been caught up in the criminal street gangs of the UK’s major cities. I will send a message to him to contact you. Perhaps he will be able to help you trace this killer with the Maalik tattoo. Perhaps that way you might be able to identify with certainty your hidden enemy.’

  ‘How will you send this man of yours to me, Aazim Tippoo Tip? You do not know where I live.’

  ‘Since Brandon Hall was burnt to the ground you have made your principal London home at Number Eleven, Conrad Road in Belgravia. Your primary email address is cross@crossbow.com, but you have many others. Is that not correct, Mr Cross?’

  Hector inclined his head in wry acquiescence. ‘Tariq has told you so much about me. It would not surprise me if you even know my shoe size.’

  ‘US size eleven and a half,’ Aazim replied without smiling, but Hector laughed out loud.

  ‘Goodbye, Aazim Tippoo Tip. I shall never forget you.’

  ‘Nor I you, Mr Hector Cross. May I shake your hand?’

  Hector took his hand and they looked into each other’s eyes.

  ‘Go with Allah, Mr Hector Cross.’

  ‘Pray for me, Sheikh Tippoo Tip.’ Hector
turned and without looking back strode out through the door, headed towards Gate A26.

  *

  Although it was after midnight when Hector arrived back at the penthouse of Seascape Mansions in Abu Zara, he called a council of war in the private cinema.

  As the team assembled they greeted Hector enthusiastically but then looked around for Tariq Hakam. Hector made no effort to allay their curiosity until they were all seated on the tiers of seats facing him on the podium.

  ‘So where is Tariq, then?’ Nastiya asked the question for all of them.

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Hector hedged.

  ‘Okay. Then make it a short one,’ Nastiya suggested.

  ‘He is still in Mecca.’ Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Hector was forced to continue. He made it short and he stripped away all detail and commentary. The tension in the room rose steadily as he spoke. He told them everything except the final parting at Jeddah airport and Aazim’s offer of a hostage. When he finished they all stared at him in grim silence. Nastiya broke the spell of their collective horror. She was the only one in the room who was not afraid of Hector Cross.

  ‘So Tariq Hakam was the traitor all along. He betrayed you and he betrayed all of us. Why did you not kill him, Hector?’

  Hector had prepared for this interrogation on the flight back from Mecca. They hammered at him with their questions and their doubts for almost another thirty minutes. He described in detail Aazim Muktar’s sermon in the mosque, repeating it almost word for word.

  ‘And you believed him, did you, Hector?’

  ‘He was very convincing. But I did not truly, deeply, believe him. Not then. Not until he offered me his six-year-old son as a hostage. Then I believed him. He bared his soul to me and gave me his son. Then I knew he was on the side of the angels. I knew that he had not masterminded Hazel’s murder.’

  ‘If he gave you this hostage, Hector, then where is the boy now?’

  ‘I accepted him, and then I returned him to his mother.’

  ‘Are you crazy mad in the head, Hector Cross?’ Nastiya demanded.

  ‘Some may say so.’ Hector smiled and went on. ‘But then Aazim Muktar Tippoo Tip gave me the final proof of his innocence.’

  ‘What was that, you silly man?’

  ‘Although I was completely in his power, he allowed me to walk away and climb on the aircraft and return here to Abu Zara unscathed.’

  Paddy O’Quinn let out a roar of laughter and slapped his wife’s knee. ‘Hector is right, my darling. There is no stronger proof than that. Now even I believe in Aazim Tippoo Tip.’

  The tension in the room broke and they exchanged sheepish nods and grins. Only Nastiya removed Paddy’s hand from her knee and challenged Hector one last time. ‘And I am sure that, like the true blue Englishman you are, you even shook this murdering mullah’s hand and I am sure that you are not even going to kill Tariq Hakam?’

  ‘I can hide nothing from you, tsarina. I shook Aazim Tippoo Tip’s hand and found no blood on it. Then I allowed Tariq Hakam to go with his God,’ Hector conceded and stood up. ‘To tell you the truth, I feel better for those two things. Now I need a few hours of sleep. We will all meet here after breakfast in the morning, to consider where we now stand.’

  ‘I can tell you, for free, exactly where you now stand, Hector Cross. You are back at square one and lucky to be there.’ Nastiya tried to sound stern, but there was a tiny spark of blue in her eye.

  *

  Hector held Catherine on his lap as he fed her the bottle. She made small grunting sounds of appreciation as she attacked the teat with gusto, totally oblivious of the interested audience seated on the rising tiers of seats confronting them in the cinema.

  ‘Only man I know who can plot mayhem and death and at the same time feed an infant,’ Paddy O’Quinn remarked and Nastiya punched his arm.

  ‘You know nothing about babies, husband. Watch Hector and shut up your mouth.’

  ‘That’s enough, my children. Cut the squabbling and settle down. We have work to do,’ Hector admonished them. ‘I did not argue with Nastiya last night when she said we were back to square one. However, this is not entirely true. We do still have a tenuous lead to work on. This was suggested to me by Tariq Hakam. I give him full credit for that. We were discussing how the Beast set up the ambush for Hazel, and Tariq asked a simple question. He said, “How did they know?’”

  Hector paused and let that sink in. Then he repeated, ‘How did the Beast know that Hazel was coming up to London that day to see her gynaecologist?’ They stirred and murmured agreement.

  ‘The only ones that knew on our side were Hazel and me and Agatha, her PA, who set up the appointment. I phoned Agatha yesterday evening and she was absolutely adamant that she had told nobody. She was extremely distressed that I even made the suggestion. She has worked for Hazel for fifteen years and she is completely reliable.’

  ‘Hazel’s gynae knew,’ Nastiya volunteered.

  ‘Yes, you are right. Mr Donnovan knew. I am returning to London this afternoon to speak to him, but it’s going to be a little embarrassing to suggest to him that he broke patient confidentiality. I want Paddy and Nastiya to come with me, and yes okay, Dave, I saw you looking anxious. You can come along. There is a good chance that we will need you.’ Dave Imbiss smiled with relief. Hector went on. ‘For the time being, Catherine will be safe and well cared for here at Seascape with Bonnie and all her back-up team.’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘Time is nine thirteen. There is a flight at eleven thirty for London Heathrow. If you all move arse we can make it.’

  *

  The four of them dined that night at Number Eleven. From the head of the table Hector raised his glass to them. ‘I have just realized that exactly four months have passed since Hazel left me. It seems like a much shorter time. I still walk into every room in this house and expect her to be there. I want you to join me in wishing her Godspeed.’

  Hours later, when Paddy and Nastiya went up to their own room, Nastiya sat before the dressing-table mirror in a pink satin robe and brushed out her hair. She watched Paddy in the mirror as he lay on the bed with the evening paper. ‘Do you know what Hector needs?’ she asked him.

  ‘Tell me,’ he grunted as he turned the page.

  ‘He needs a good woman in his bed to help him forget.’

  Paddy sat bolt upright and crumpled the news-sheet with alarm.

  ‘Don’t you dare suggest that to him! He will kill you, you callous Russian tart.’

  ‘Callous I don’t know. Tart I do know, and it’s good and sweet. I can give you a little taste if you like.’

  *

  Early the next morning Hector found parking in Harley Street, and he walked half a block to Alan Donnovan’s clinic. He climbed the stairs rather than take the lift and when he entered the reception area it was empty. He stood at the desk for only a few minutes before the receptionist returned from Alan’s room carrying an armful of patients’ files.

  ‘I am so sorry to keep you waiting, Mr Cross.’

  ‘That’s all right, Victoria.’ She seemed a little flustered to see him, but he put that down to the pressure of working for a man like Alan.

  ‘Mr Donnovan is running quite a bit late. Do you have something else you need to do?’

  ‘That’s all right. I am in no hurry. I can wait,’ Hector told her.

  She stacked the files on her desk. In her free hand she held an iPhone S4, and now she laid it down beside the pile of files as the intercom rang.

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Cross. Everything seems to be happening at once this morning.’ She picked up the intercom and spoke into it. ‘Yes, Mr Donnovan. Yes, at once.’ She dropped the intercom in its cradle. ‘Please excuse me again, Mr Cross.’

  She started towards the inner rooms. She left her iPhone lying beside the files. Hector noticed that the device was identical to his own. It triggered something in his mind and suddenly it all seemed to drop into place. The answer to the conundrum had been staring him in the face all along. He ha
d overlooked Victoria as though she was a piece of furniture. He was chagrined by the fact that he had not worked it out long before.

  ‘Listen, Victoria,’ he called after her. ‘I have just remembered something else I should do. It wasn’t really important that I see Mr Donnovan today anyway. Please cancel my appointment, and I will call you again next week to make another.’

  ‘Oh, are you sure? All right, but I am so sorry for this, Mr Cross.’ She fled for Alan’s door.

  As it closed, Hector leaned across the desk and scooped up the girl’s iPhone. He slipped his own out of its pouch on his belt and switched them. He hoped that it might be some time before she tumbled to the exchange. He was not worried that he might have left vital information in the girl’s hands. Dave Imbiss had taught him how to keep his phone impregnable and squeaky clean. He left the clinic and went down to where he had parked. He drove back to No. 11, where he found the other three members of his team in the library.

  ‘That didn’t take you too long, boss. We didn’t expect you back so soon,’ Dave Imbiss told him.

  ‘I went to get you a little present. Here you go.’ He tossed him Victoria’s iPhone.

  ‘Thanks a thousand.’ Dave caught it neatly. ‘But I already have one.’

  ‘One like this you ain’t got,’ Hector assured him. ‘What I want you to do is take it down to the workshop and strip every bit of information out of it. I want the full list of its contact numbers. All the messages received and sent, either in voice or SMS. I want copies of all the videos in memory. I want you to look particularly hard at everything dated from the week of Hazel’s death up to the present time.’

  ‘Where did you get this, boss?’ Dave examined the iPhone with sudden keen attention, turning it over in his hands, not even glancing at Hector as he asked the questions. ‘Who does it belong to? How did you get your hands on it?’