I fumbled about in one of the bins. Most of the ice had already melted.
‘The Algerians perked up when they saw France getting annihilated in Vietnam. They thought, right, if they can fuck them, so can we. Here? Just take out the French and insert the Americans and Brits.’
He took the water and shoved it into the map pocket on his cargoes. ‘One for the road, mate. I’ve got to get back before curfew.’
I hadn’t known there was one. ‘What time does it kick in?’
‘That’s the thing, no one’s really sure. Some say ten till four thirty. Others say ten thirty till four. Who knows? Anyway, I’ve got to get back. ‘
Rob fished into his back pocket for the thirty-round curved mag for his AK. A gale of female laughter erupted on the other side of the pool. Pete Holland had his shirt off and was flexing his lats for the Canadian woman. It was his party piece.
Mr Gap was laughing too, but I bet he was really pissed off that a drunk was getting all the attention after he’d been doing all the spadework.
Rob just ignored him. ‘I reckon this great coalition had better start learning from the Algerian experience, because those fucking oiks out there in the desert, they have. And if we don’t sort this situation out we’re going to be here for years and the problem will spread. The Stans are ready to rock for a start – Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, whatever – they’re all up for it.’
I hoped the lecture was over. Rob could be like a dog with a bone. ‘You been eating those history books again, haven’t you?’
He squared up to me. ‘No, mate. I’m just getting a huge education from my man. There’s a few who are talking about a different way, using a different weapon, rather than these things.’ He pushed the front of the mag into its housing on the weapon and it clicked home. ‘What about you, Nick? You interested in finding a different way?’
An agonized gasp from the Canadian saved me having to answer. It was just as well. I didn’t have a clue what he was on about.
Every man and his dog spun round to see what was happening. Lats was trading punches with the flat-tops. He wasn’t coming off best. Goatee was trying to stamp on his head as he got pulled away by do-gooders.
‘That fucker hasn’t changed, has he?’ Rob never had liked him.
‘They’re slavers.’
‘Here already? He’s doing something useful for once, then, ain’t he?’
Rob and I shook hands. There was more gunfire from a few blocks away. Rob racked back the cocking handle and made ready the AK, his right thumb pushing the safety catch on the right-hand side of the weapon all the way up. ‘Tell me I’m not right. There’s got to be a better way. There’s no rich kids out there tonight fighting this war. It’s all soft cunts like me and you were fifteen or sixteen years ago. See yer soon. I’ll call by, see if you find Mahatma.’ He turned and disappeared into the lobby.
Jerry came over as the brawlers were pulled apart. ‘Any luck?’
‘Fuck all.’
‘I see that Pete guy’s doing his bit for international relations. They’re Serbs, apparently. Know what it was about?’
‘Maybe he tried his special-forces chat-up line on them and they didn’t like it.’
He was waiting for the punch line. ‘And?’
‘“Please give us a fuck. I’m special forces. I’ll be in and out before you know it.”’
At that moment Lats broke free from the dogooders and charged at the Serbs again. ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘I think he’s pissed off with them because he’s got daughters of his own.’
‘Slavers?’ Jerry knew the score. ‘They’re not wasting any time, are they?’
‘Nope, let’s hope he goes apeshit and kills them, eh?’
He headed for reception to shop for toothpaste and stuff and I went to watch a blizzard on CNN.
39
Friday, 10 October
I turned over in the single bed, still more asleep than awake. The balcony door was open and I could hear the odd vehicle on the move. It was still dark, but a bird down in the garden hadn’t cottoned on. I checked Baby-G– 06:31.
I dozed a few more minutes, then began to hear a new yet familiar sound, the rhythmic slap-slap-slap of running feet. They went a short distance, stopped for several seconds, then started again. I threw off the hairy nylon blanket and went and turned on CNN; the picture was still shit, but at least the sound was good. According to the world weather round-up it was a scorcher in Sydney.
I went into the bathroom and twisted the tap. There was a gurgle and some water spluttered out, a bit brown at first, then clearer, but a long way from hot. I put a glass under the cold tap, drank, then filled it again. I’d never been one for only drinking bottled water when you got to these places: the sooner your gut got used to the real stuff the better.
After turning the room light off, I scratched my arse and head, as you do of a morning, and padded out on to the balcony with my second glass. It was chilly outside, but the sun was just peeping over the horizon. Soon there was enough light to make out Connor in the empty swimming-pool getting some in.
Adiesel generator sparked up nearby, startling a small flock of birds out of their tree. I followed their line of flight out over the Tigris and a couple of boats that chugged their way upstream. At first I thought the dull bang off to my right was the generator backfiring. Then I saw a flash of light and a small plume of grey-blue smoke rising from a pair of burnt-out tower blocks three or four hundred metres away.
I ran back into my room just as the RPG thudded into one of the floors below. A split second later there was an explosion, and the whole building shuddered.
I fell to the floor and covered my head, braced for a second hit. I thought it had come, but it was just the bathroom mirror falling off the wall and shattering. Plaster dust trickled from the joists above me.
Another round hit the building, and this time it was a lot closer. There was a loud thud and the floor beneath me trembled. My ears rang.
Still naked, I jumped up and ran into the corridor. The middle of the building seemed the best place to be: for all I knew, they were attacking from both sides. I couldn’t go down the fire escape and the lift was a no-no. Everyone would be trying to jam into it, and a power-cut was almost inevitable.
There was another explosion and the lights flickered. A bunch of other guests rushed past me, shouting at no one in particular, just panicking big-time.
Another RPG punched into our side of the hotel. A woman screamed above the din. Two men stumbled and fell and the people behind them just kept scrambling over each other, trying to get away, if only they could work out where to.
I banged on Jerry’s door. ‘Jerry, for fuck’s sake!’
A heavy machine-gun sparked up on the opposite side of the hotel. Then the tank thundered a round into something out there.
The door swung open. Jerry was naked, dazed. I could smell waccy baccy.
More people swarmed out into the corridor, leaving their doors open behind them. The lifts weren’t going anywhere; some hammered the buttons and scrabbled at the doors, others made a run for the fire escape.
‘It’s safer out here,’ I yelled. ‘Come on, fuck the clothes!’
There was a sustained rattle of machine-gun fire, then another RPG round thumped into the building.
‘Fuck me.’ Jerry fell into the corridor. ‘We came here to get a story, not be fucking part of one.’ He ran back into his room.