He knew nothing of Fatima personally. To him, she was just a voice on the phone who occasionally passed on orders to him in Al Qaeda s name. Even more important, he had to keep her informed well in advance of flights to anywhere, such as Djibouti, Muscat, Bahrain, or Dubai, so that he could act as postman when required.
Fatima s first call, asking for details of Greg Slay s recent whereabouts, had excited his curiosity, but she had not explained the reason for her interest. Her second, just before he landed at Gila, certainly did.
Gregory Slay was a direct threat to Al Qaeda. He had been given the task of disposing of him, she told him, and by a famous man, Mullah Ali Selim surely he had seen him recently on Al Jazeera? Hakim had. Fatima had disobeyed the master s order not to reveal his name because she hadn t been able to stand his questioning his own worthiness. Such nonsense. She wanted to shout out his greatness to the whole world, but had to be content with just telling Hakim.
I want to hear from you the instant Slay is disposed of, she said. There was crackling on the line. What s wrong with the reception?
The wind will get worse before it gets better, he told her. If a full sandstorm drives in from the Empty Quarter, it will probably kill any signals for mobile phones for some time. I will handle this matter as fast as possible, but may not be able to report a successful outcome for a while.
Then you must fly down to Rubat and make your report to us here on the Monsoon.
As you wish.
He gripped the steering column tightly and laughed, head thrown back. So Al Qaeda wanted Greg Slay disposed of? How perfect an answer to all his problems. Change was coming; it was inevitable that Al Qaeda would fill the vacuum of power that would bring to Hazar. With Slay disposed of and the goodwill of Al Qaeda behind Hakim, there was nothing to stop him from taking over the company and its aircraft.
Gila loomed up in the distance, and he increased speed. He couldn t wait to land, discharge his cargo, and get back in the air and strike out for Hazar before Slay arrived.
It was pouring with rain in London as Henri waited in the Citro n. Owen Rashid had called him, saying he expected to be there in half an hour, but still hadn t arrived, probably because of some holdup with the weather. Kelly had taken anold umbrella from the rear of the Citro n and gone off to the shop, ostensibly for more coffee, but in reality for whiskey, having emptied the half bottle. He got two coffees and more whiskey, stopping in a doorway to drink some, then carried on, to find Owen s Mercedes parked just beside the entrance to Highfield Court. He and Henri were loading the collapsible wheelchair and a couple of bags into the luggage compartment.
Owen turned to face Kelly, disgust on his face. For God s sake, what are you playing at? You re drunk. He knocked the two paper coffee cups on the cardboard tray from Kelly s hand and grabbed the umbrella. Go and wait in the Citro n.
He pushed Kelly violently away. Henri said, What s your plan?
We ll break in from the back if we have to, but let s try the frontal approach. Did you bring the white coat and the stethoscope I suggested?
I m wearing it under my raincoat, and the stethoscope s in my pocket. He took his raincoat off and put it in the luggage compartment. Let s do it.
Sprawled across her bed hugging a pillow and still fully dressed, Sara came awake to the insistent pealing of the front doorbell. Dazed and conscious only of her throbbing headache, she lay there waiting for the bell to stop ringing, but when it didn t, she got up wearily, pulled on her desert boots, and limped down the stairs to the hall, feeling decidedly shaky. She opened the door and found the two men confronting her, Owen holding the umbrella over their heads, a small wheelchair beside them.
Captain Gideon. I had the pleasure of meeting you on the terrace of the luncheon for the President. Owen Rashid.
Oh yes, she murmured, deeply tired, conscious only of that throbbing headache. What can I do for you?
General Ferguson asked me to look in on you and introduce Doctor Legrande here.
He lowered the umbrella, took a step forward, and instinctively she moved back so that Henri followed her in. She was so tired, she felt no alarm at all, so that what happened was so very simple.
What s it all about? she asked wearily.
You seem tired, Henri said. Permit me to take your pulse, and he reached for her left hand. The prick itself was of no account, but the Seconal was so instantly effective that Owen had to grab her as she started to slide to the floor.
Henri pulled the wheelchair inside and, leaving Owen to lower her into it, opened the cloakroom door, searched hurriedly, and came back with a black beret and a gray rug, with which he covered Sara, adjusting the beret over the red hair. He went back to the cloakroom and returned with a khaki trench coat, which he draped over the back of the chair.
So, my friend, let s go.
They lifted the chair down the steps just in time to see Kelly drive away in the Citro n.
The bloody fool s drunk out of his wits, Owen said. He ll probably hit the first car he sees.
Nothing to be done about that. Henri lifted Sara in strong arms. Owen opened the rear door for him, and the Frenchman placed her carefully inside and belted her in. I ll sit beside her, playing the doctor, and you will do the driving. Are you still convinced we can get away with this?
I told you, we ll be waved straight through the gates.
He joined the traffic in Park Lane, moving toward Marble Arch, then Bayswater. Henri said, It sounds too good to be true, but I suppose we have no choice.
No, we don t, Owen told him. We re not playing the game anymore, it s playing us, so think positive and keep your fingers crossed.
The rain was torrential as they drove in through the members entrance at Frensham, and the security officer on duty simply peered out the half-open office window, recognizing him at once.
Nice weather for ducks, Mr. Rashid, he called.
I hope you re going somewhere better than this. He didn t bother coming out, simply raised the bar, and Owen drove in.
He threaded his way through an array of parked airplanes and helicopters, and pulled up under an overhang where cars were parked in bays that bore company logos. The Learjet was some little distance away. It took only two or three minutes to get out the wheelchair for Henri, who handed Sara into it. Owen raised the umbrella and walked with him toward the Lear, going ahead and opening the airstair door.
Henri carried Sara s limp body up the steps, ducking his head to pass inside, and Owen followed with her coat and the rug. He squeezed past them and lowered one of the rear seats into the reclining position. Henri passed her to him.
Gently, now, she ll need the belt, and cover her well. The change in body temperature may not be helped by the Seconal.
Why, Henri, I didn t know you cared, Owen said.
Henri s habitual smile vanished. But I do, my friend this is a great lady. I respect her both as a woman and a soldier. See that you do. I ll see to the wheelchair.
Leave it, for God s sake.
Which would draw attention. The slight smile was back on Henri s face. I would also remind you of the bags in the Mercedes.
He went out, and Owen took the deepest of breaths, realizing the stress was beginning to get to him, which wouldn t do at all. He tucked Sara in, then went to the cockpit, took the right-hand seat, and started preparing for takeoff.