‘And?’
‘That’s it.’
‘We’re going to need a bit more than that,’ said Kroll.
‘Please think, Amara: how many floors? Where are the vehicles kept? Are there guards on the perimeter wall? How high is it?’
‘How would I know? I’m not a bloody tour guide. I just stayed there a few times.’
‘What’s she called, your friend?’
‘Kristen.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember now. She’s Austrian.’ Dima laughed. ‘An Alpine mistress to go with the chalet: he’s got the matching set!’
‘She doesn’t like to be called that.’
‘Whatever. Has she ever sent you anything? Directions? A map?’
‘Of course not. I always went with Gazul and he knows where it is. Knew.’
Dima wondered what she could make of her life now he was gone, but there was no time to think about that now.
‘Kristen is very sweet, always happy, never trouble. Gazul was always saying to me, “Why can’t you be like Kristen? Kristen is always smiling”.’
Dima frowned. Did she miss the guy or not?
‘Kristen is always smiling because she is always stoned all the time. Without her, those trips would have been bo-ring. We used to have a good laugh together. One time we — hang on, I’ll show you.’
She got up and opened the bottom right-hand drawer of the desk.
‘Here it is.’
She reached in and lifted out a white silk-covered photo album.
Vladimir, Zirak and Gregorin gathered round.
‘This may not be the best time for wedding snaps,’ said Zirak.
But it was something better than that: far better.
‘Oh my God. .’ said Dima.
She opened it: the first page showed several shots of herself and an attractive blonde, leaning out of the window of a turret, waving. Then page after page of holiday photos, taken by her and Kristen, and by the look of it some of the guards, showing the entire layout of the Eagle’s Nest.
The miserable widow had come good after all. Dima put an arm round her and kissed her.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘But not the rest of you tramps.’
‘Look,’ said Zirak. ‘She’s even got Yin and Yang.’
The two Koreans gazed self-consciously at the camera, their Uzis clearly in view.
‘Bloody hell,’ said Kroll. ‘It really does look like the original. Hang on a sec. .’
He put the scanner carefully to one side and rebooted the laptop:
Welcome to the Kehlsteinhaus. . it said. Historical landmark, Museum and Restaurant.
The two buildings were identical. Kroll looked round at them all, smiled and clicked on Map.
39
A door led from the kitchen to the garage. Kroll ran his hand over the hood of the black Chevy SUV with tinted glass.
‘Everyone loves an American 4x4,’ said Kroll. ‘If they have no taste. Maybe we could pass ourselves off as US Special Forces.’
‘It’s not exactly inconspicuous.’
‘Right now anything with wheels that isn’t an APC is conspicuous.’
‘I like it,’ said Vladimir. ‘It’s bigger than my old cell.’
Kroll opened a door.
‘It seats five easy.’
‘Six. Amara’s fleeing for her life with her loyal security detaiclass="underline" that’s us.’
‘Kaffarov’s going to buy that?’
‘He doesn’t have to. It’s just to help us get past the guards. She’ll call Kristen from the gate.’
‘How do we know she’s even there?’
Dima smiled.
‘Amara called her on Gazul’s satphone: she said to come right over.’
He looked at Gregorin and Zirak.
‘Anybody want to bail out?’
No one did. There was just one thought chipping away at the back of Dima’s mind: what did Amara want out of all this? And when the time came for her to ask for it, would he want to comply?
40
Camp Firefly, Outskirts of Tehran
A dirty orange sun was seeping through the smoke and dust over the east side of Tehran. Inside the tent, Blackburn faced his interrogators across a folding table. It was just gone 0700. He had been allowed three hours’ sleep before being roused for questioning.
Lieutenant Cody Andrews from the US Military Police Corps did the smiling. Captain Craig Dershowitz, Marine Intelligence, did the writing.
‘Sorry about getting you up so early.’ Andrews’ smile widened. ‘We’d just like to get this done while it’s all fresh in your mind.’
Or too tired to figure whether I’m digging myself a great big hole, thought Black. Outside, Cole was waiting, doing his best to listen in on the proceedings.
Black recalled the events in the bank, the contents of the vault, the maps of New York and Paris, the circled locations and the two men on the security monitor.
‘Bashir and one other, right?’
‘Like I said, Sir.’
Dershowitz maintained an expression of deep disdain.
‘And you believe that the second man was the guy in the videos.’
‘Solomon, yes, Sir.’
Dershowitz renounced his vow of silence.
‘Solomon who?’
‘Just Solomon. Bashir spelled it out as he was dying.’
Dershowitz waved a pen in the air.
‘A first name, a last name, a codename. .?’
‘He didn’t say. He died.’
Dershowitz suddenly snorted. ‘Sure he wasn’t saying Salaam?’
Andrews put his head on one side as if he was trying to make up his mind which dessert to order.
‘Kinda strange name for a PLR, or an Iranian for that matter.’
‘Maybe if he’d lived another minute I’d have asked him that.’
‘Moving on to your motivation, Sergeant. You were pretty pissed about what happened to Harker.’
‘Is that surprising?’
‘And we understand you’ve been given some rough treatment by his buddies?’
Black shrugged. ‘It didn’t amount to anything, Sir.’
Dershowitz was evidently reading more into this than was good for him.
‘The bullet that killed him was from his own gun. What reason do you think he had for shooting himself?’
Black had the sensation of a man who was about to add two and two and get seven.
‘He had just fired it at me. I grabbed his arm through the windshield.’
‘When you were on the hood, holding on to the wiper.’
Andrews grinned, trying to lift the mood.
‘Superhero stuff, huh?’
The mood didn’t lift.
Dershowitz leaned forward.
‘Let’s see. You’re with Harker, and he gets executed. You’re in the bank, Bashir leaves. You’re on the guy’s hood under orders to take him alive and he shoots himself. I’m seeing a kind of pattern here, Black.’
‘What kind of pattern’s that?’
‘Like you’re not having a great war, Sergeant Blackburn. You want to go home or something?’
Black looked at them. He could feel his face burning, his fingernails grinding his palms. He was damned if he was going to let on how they were getting to him. Talk to yourself, his mother had said. When you feel bad or wronged, you’re your own best buddy. I’m trying Mom, he told himself. I just don’t think it’s working.
‘I grabbed his forearm above the wrist. At that moment the vehicle struck something which drove him forward on to the gun. It discharged. Ask Campo. Sir.’
‘You think Campo will back you up?’
‘He’ll tell you the truth.’
‘You’ve seen to that, huh?’
Black had had enough. He slammed his fist down on the table. Dershowitz’s laptop and coffee jumped an inch into the air.