‘Have you got any of that whisky left? I can’t let the rest of them see me like this.’
‘Don’t you think they’ll understand?’
‘Please, Kieran.’
Mallon scrambled over to his desk, pulled the bottle of Bushmill’s from a drawer and handed it to Girling.
Five minutes later, the bottle half-empty beside him, Girling had beaten the pain. And yet his mind, turning over sluggishly after the onslaught, told him that this was not the answer.
Girling put his hand on Mallon’s shoulder and pulled himself to his feet. In the far corner the rest of the staff had begun to file back into the newsroom.
‘Thanks, Kieran. You’re a pal.’
He had to go back, not just for Stansell. He had to go back for Alia. For Mona. He had to go back for himself.
He headed for the lift.
‘Where are you going?’ Mallon shouted after him.
The lift arrived and Girling stepped inside. ‘To a board meeting,’ he said, just before the doors closed.
He never bothered to knock on the door that led to the office managed by Lord Kyle’s secretary. The personal assistant to the proprietor stammered as Girling breezed past her.
‘Excuse me, you can’t go in there. There’s a planning session in progress. You’ll have to wait. Mr — ?’
But Girling swept on.
He threw open the door, pausing for only a moment to absorb the scene before his eyes. Lord Kyle, owner of the world’s second-largest publishing empire, gaped at the intruder who stood framed in the doorway. Either side of the proprietor’s seat at the large conference table, two other main board directors whom Girling recognized, but whose names he’d forgotten, looked on in amazement. The heads of senior publishing executives ranged along the nearest side of the table twisted in their sumptuous chairs to look at the intruder. Behind him, Girling was aware of the fussing secretary, who was trying to get past to blurt her apologies.
Girling surveyed the faces. Then he found the one that had brought him there.
As he strode towards Kelso, whose face seemed to redden with every pace that he took, Girling was aware of the cacophony breaking out around him.
Lord Kyle demanded an explanation, while the secretary bleated for her master’s absolution.
With the din at its height, Girling leant over and whispered in Kelso’s ear. ‘I’m going to make a short announcement here, after which you are going to follow me very quietly from this room so we can talk. Just the two of us.’
‘This is outrageous, Tom. That’s Lord Kyle over there.’
‘Bob, I’m sure the noble lord will be fascinated to hear me brand you a murderer in front of all his friends here. It’s a statement I am fully prepared to justify, unless you decide to come with me.’
‘I haven’t the first idea what you’re talking about,’ Kelso blustered.
‘You will.’
Girling turned to the assembled company.
‘Gentlemen, our scoop has caused such a stir that I’m afraid Mr Kelso’s presence is badly needed downstairs. A small administrative matter.’
He leaned over and whispered again. ‘Now step outside.’
Girling saw the resignation on Kelso’s face as he struggled to his feet, mumbling apologies to the board. Girling held Kelso firmly by the arm and frog marched him along the corridor and into the toilets reserved for the board.
Kelso could contain his rage no longer. ‘I’ll have your hide for this. I have never been so humiliated in my entire life. You barge in like you own the place, smelling like a fucking tramp…’
‘That’s because I’ve been drinking.’
‘What on earth is wrong with you? What was all that crap back there?’
‘Stansell’s been kidnapped.’
‘What?’
‘He’s been kidnapped, because you decided to have your exclusive, whatever the cost. He’s been taken by our old friends the Angels of Judgement, or someone operating in their name.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘It’s true. And you as good as pointed the finger.’
‘Look, there must have been some misunderstanding — ’
‘Bullshit! I know about the notepad. You knew full well what you were doing.’ Girling jabbed a finger in the direction of the board room.
‘What am I going to tell them? They’ve just voted Dispatches another five million.’
‘Here’s how you’re going to start spending it. You’re going to send me to Cairo. Make me Middle East bureau chief in Stansell’s absence.’
‘You must be mad. Egypt was the reason you gave up reporting.’
‘I’m not going there to report for you.’ Girling looked at him levelly. ‘I’m going there to find Stansell.’
‘You? What can you do that the police can’t?’
‘You just don’t understand, do you? You’re so busy currying favour with your friends down the corridor that you’ve lost touch with the real world. The reality is that the Angels of Judgement have killed over a hundred people inside a week. And to compound an already dismal situation, the outfit that has been tasked with finding Stansell is just about the most corrupt and incompetent collection of policemen that ever walked this planet. Why do you think they’ve asked for news of Stansell’s kidnapping to be suppressed? Because it helps his case?’ He shook his head. ‘It’s because they know they haven’t a hope in hell of finding him. By keeping the lid on news, of his abduction, they minimize their incompetent efforts at finding him. I know, because as you correctly pointed out the other day, I am close to this story — maybe too close. I’ve been through it before.’
The single-file column of hostages stumbled along the dusty track.
Ambassador Franklin kept his hand clasped firmly to the shoulder of the man at the head of the column. He had given up trying to loosen the blindfold that had been tied too tightly around his head. The last time he had brought a hand up to his face, the sharp crack of a rifle butt reminded him of the rules that had been imposed upon them. The most rigidly enforced was the one about the blindfold.
When they first began to march, the heat had been intolerable, but now that they were higher up, the air had cooled considerably and, despite their fatigue, the journey had become easier. He had an impression they were passing through a deep ravine. Occasionally, he could hear the noise of scree scattering from under their feet echoing off steep-sided rock walls on either side of them.
Now the ravine was opening. Sunlight streamed onto his face, and he could smell lush vegetation around him.
When the terrorists called them to a halt, he thought at first it was just another rest. But then he heard the door pulled back, its hinges jarring noisily, and he knew that they had arrived at their final destination.
The hand in the small of his back sent him sprawling onto the musty earthen floor. His head hit the far wall, but was saved from bruising by the blindfold. The cloth dislodged, Franklin opened his eyes. Bright sunlight flooded through the diminishing gap as the door was pushed shut behind him.
A moment before it closed, Franklin caught a glimpse of his jailer. The sight of the man, the detail of his clothes clearly visible in the bright sun, made the ambassador catch his breath.
Alone, and in the darkness of his primitive cell, he knew there would be no demands, no ransoms paid.
BOOK 2
CHAPTER 9
Girling awoke from a light sleep when he felt the flaps and wheels lower into the slipstream. He cupped his hands over the window and peered out-side. The Egyptair A300 was descending through the night over the barren desert just west of Cairo. He could see sporadic pinpoints of light, where islands of civilization dotted the desert like fireflies.