Milan Janov had been left kicking his heels by the events that had unfolded in London. His request to the CIA chief to send a hit team in to take out Abdul and his group had yielded nothing, and in frustration he had contacted Maggot to find out why. Maggot was unhelpful, not because he wanted to be but because he knew nothing; he had not been contacted by Hudson, the CIA man. At that stage, neither of them knew that the organisation had been seriously compromised and effectively shut down, probably for good.
Janov asked Maggot to make some phone calls. He was afraid his own, heavily accented English might give him away, so Maggot had agreed to take on that task. He contacted the American Embassy and asked for Randolph Hudson but was told the Mister Hudson had returned to the United States. He then asked to be put through to the Military Attache’s office. It was then he discovered that Commodore Deveraux had also returned to America.
The alarm bells began to ring and Maggot had that uneasy feeling that the game was up; the security forces were closing in on members of the group. He contacted Janov and they met again in the nightclub in West London.
‘From what you have told me,’ Maggot said to Janov, ‘The Chapter has stopped operating. Well, here at least, and I think it is getting dangerous for anyone who had dealings with them.’
Janov was sat hunched over his Urquell lager. He held the glass firmly and shook it gently so that the amber liquid spun inside the glass.
‘If I take care of my end of the operation,’ he said eventually, ‘could you take it on here in Britain?’
Maggot shook his head firmly. ‘The operation is too big. And even if I wanted to, there will be other members of The Chapter who would prevent it. Someone will pick it up again, but not me.’
They sat in silence as the music drifted over them and dancers moved gracelessly about the pocket handkerchief dance floor. Janov cast around; his bottom lip protruding as he pondered the impact of what Maggot has said. His thoughts were no longer on what pleasures awaited him in the rooms upstairs, but how he could repair the break in their import/export business.
‘Rafiq,’ he said after a while. ‘I have control from Turkmenistan up to all the European ports. Abdul Khaliq has control in Afghanistan. But it is weakening and I believe he is preparing to break away from us. I think it is because of him that we have reached this situation.’
‘If this is true, how can you prevent it?’ Maggot asked him.
Janov shook his head. ‘I cannot, but I can make him pay.’ He lifted his glass and drained it. Maggot turned round towards the bar and attracted the attention of one of the barmaids. He pointed to Janov’s empty glass. The girl nodded.
‘How can you make him pay?’
Janov belched and put his hand to his mouth. The sound was swamped by the noise pounding out from the speakers.
‘When I go back I will go to Kabul. Abdul goes there often.’ He pointed at Maggot. ‘That is where it will finish; I will see to that.’
‘How will you do that?’ asked Maggot, doubting whether Janov had the support in Kabul that he would need. ‘It isn’t your territory. You don’t have the people in place there.’
Janov smiled slowly. A shadow fell across him as the barmaid put a full glass in front of him. Janov put his hand up her skirt and squeezed her thigh. She pulled away sharply and looked daggers at him. Maggot laughed.
‘It isn’t always necessary to have people there, as you say Rafiq.’ His face brightened. ‘But so long as I have someone with me who I can rely on and trust, I can get the job done.’
‘Who’s that someone?’ Maggot asked, sensing the direction the conversation was going.
‘You, Rafiq.’
Maggot laughed. ‘Why me?’
Janov opened his hands in an empty gesture. ‘Because you are no longer safe here in England. You have to be there.’
‘I don’t have to be anywhere,’ he told Janov, shaking his head.
Janov nodded vigorously. ‘But you do, Rafiq. You are no longer safe in England.’ He leaned closer, repeating his point. ‘How much longer will it be before they connect you with The Chapter?’ He leaned back in his chair but kept his gaze fixed firmly on Maggot. ‘Don’t you see? You will be safer with me in Afghanistan than you are here in your own country.’
Maggot could see a modicum of sense in what Janov was saying. He thought back to the day he had met Susan Ellis in Marcus’s empty office and began to see one or two pointers into the way things were changing. He had told Susan that if Marcus was involved in the big boys’ games, he could be in trouble. He linked that thought to Susan’s reason for contacting Marcus, namely her brother David and he could see where those pointers were going: all the way to Afghanistan.
He put all this into the melting pot of supposition and conjecture, including Janov’s assertion that he might not be safe in England, and realised that it might be the time for another trip to Pakistan, or even Afghanistan simply to keep away from the security forces in England.
‘How easy would it be to hit Abdul?’ he asked carefully.
A huge smile blossomed on Janov’s craggy features and thumped the table top with his huge fist.
‘That’s it Rafiq; the old Rafiq that I know.’ He came closer. ‘First of all we must get you to Kabul, and then we can plan everything else once you are there.’
‘How will you know where Abdul is?’ Maggot asked.
Janov tapped the side of his head with the tip of his finger. ‘I have somebody close to Abdul. He tells me what I wish to know. So when we get to Kabul I will find out where Abdul is and you and I will finish it.’
EIGHTEEN
David was asleep on a small bed when the sound of his bedroom door opening woke him. He had been given a very tiny room to sleep in, much like a prison cell but without bars. Despite being allowed certain freedoms, David still found himself being contained rather than confined, and knew that his existence depended purely upon Abdul Khaliq’s state of mind. He had made precious little mention of the so called ‘freedom’ he had told David to expect and wondered if it was some delusion that Abdul carried around in his head all day.
He opened his eyes and rubbed the sleep from them, allowing himself a moment to get accustomed to the orange sunlight filtering through the small opening in the wall that served as a window. He blinked away the sleep and opened his eyes fully as the door burst open and Abdul Khaliq walked into the room.
‘Get dressed!’ Abdul shouted, flicking his arm in the air. ‘We leave in ten minutes.’ He stormed out of the room.
David sat there staring at the back of the door which was closing slowly. He had no idea why Abdul had done that, and he knew it would do no good asking. He stood up and pulled on a pair of trousers and then went out into the courtyard of the farmhouse in which they were staying. There was a small, square bathing area which was little more than a low walled box into which water was hand pumped from a subterranean well.
David operated the handle of the pump and doused himself in cold water. It brought goose bumps up on his skin in the chill morning air. Water ran from his beard and he shook his head vigorously sending droplets flying like a dog shaking itself after a dousing.
He straightened up and looked around the small courtyard. It was strangely quiet, as though as air of expectancy had suppressed any life. He guessed it had something to do with Abdul’s dramatic order to be ready to leave.
As he walked across the yard he could hear the sound of a Toyota Landcruiser starting up. He guessed it must have been Abdul’s wagon. David quickened his step and hurried back to his room where he finished dressing.