I could imagine, but let him carry on anyway.
‘Because there’s still nothing decent coming from the CPA, and most of what does gets stolen anyway.’ Rob was pretty worked up. He was having a pool-party flashback. ‘Look out there.’ He pointed through the door, towards the terrace. ‘Look at that poor fucker.’ The Aussie squaddie was taking off his helmet to wipe the sweat from his shaven head with a heavily tattooed forearm. ‘Like I said, rich kids don’t fight wars. There’s no rich kids in that hospital. It’s just the poor on both sides that get fucked over. My man wants Nuhanovic to stop all this shit happening in Uzbekistan.’
‘How’s he going to do that?’
‘He’ll tell you. If you guys like each other, you could come back with us. We’ll even take Jerry off your hands, drop him off in Turkey for you. Interested?’
Of course I was: if something was good enough for Rob it was good enough for me. Besides, the grass is always greener; except there wasn’t any grass. I took a swig of black stuff. ‘Maybe.’
He smiled. Perhaps he wanted someone he knew working alongside him. Perhaps he wanted to cure me of my Coke habit. ‘We’re leaving in about fifteen. I’m going to clear the vehicle, then pick up my man. Remember, Nick, I’ve vouched for you so don’t fuck up. Just listen to what he has to say.’
Rob handed me the key and headed for the doors. I went back upstairs. The door to the balcony was open. Jerry was on the floor.
‘What the fuck are you doing down there?’
‘Just testing the camera, getting some low light shots.’
I looked down. Rob was half underneath a battered, dust-covered blue BMW 3 Series with the bonnet up, checking for any devices.
‘What you call DC for?’
‘What?’
‘I said not to use it again. You know what could happen.’
‘I know, sorry, but I thought I’d call one last time. See if he had anything.’
‘And?’
‘Nah, not a thing.’ He got up and took a bottle from the tray. ‘Life here’s a constant cycle of hot drinks followed by cold ones, isn’t it?’
‘You tell him there’s no more calls from you now?’
He nodded as I closed the balcony doors. His Adam’s apple moved up and down as he got the fluid into him.
We sat and I took a couple of mouthfuls myself then brought Jerry up to speed. ‘Rob cleared it with his boss. We can stay.’
‘You get his name?’
‘Didn’t ask. Listen, I’m going to see Rob downstairs again in a few. I might be going with them to meet someone – sounds like a friend of a friend.’
Jerry was up and heading towards his kit.
‘Just me, mate. That’s the way he wants it.’
He held the bumbag in one hand and the camera in the other. ‘I should be there, Nick.’
‘Hey, we’re hiding from the fucking US Army, remember? We can’t call your source again, and we’re fucked without Rob. Let’s hold tight here and see if these guys can find him. If so, that’s when we talk to them about the picture.’
‘And if they don’t?’
‘Then you don’t get it and we all go home. Simple.’
It wasn’t that simple for me any more, and I’d known it the moment I started telling Rob about that day at the cement factory. I really wanted to meet this guy. I didn’t know what I’d say if I met him, but that didn’t matter. I’d think of something.
I picked my sun-gigs off the coffee-table and gave them a wipe with my shirt-tail. Jerry still looked pissed off. ‘Look, what does it matter?’ I said. ‘As long as we get the right result.’
‘What if you get to him tonight? I should be there.’
I shrugged and slid the glass door shut. ‘Jerry, it’s not open for discussion. You stay here, don’t go outside, don’t get yourself seen. We’re supposed to have left for Turkey, remember?’
‘OK, OK.’ He wasn’t really listening.
I left the room, made sure my bumbag was done up securely, and took the stairs. Baby-G said it was 17:46.
57
I’d only seen him briefly, but I recognized the Uzbek – I supposed that was what they were called – at once. He was sitting in the lobby reading the waffle on my empty Coke can. Maybe he was a football fan.
He stood up as he saw me, and smiled. After seeing Nuhanovic close up in ‘Chetnik Mama’, and now looking at this man more closely than I had on the flight, I realized they’d been part of the same job lot. He was slightly built, maybe five six, and in need of a few fish-and-chip suppers. He was wearing a black linen suit, white shirt and blue Kevlar with a ceramic plate covering his chest. It was a wonder he could support the weight.
I went straight over and shook a small, bony hand. ‘Hello, I’m Nick.’
His teeth were perfect behind the big smile, his eyes green and clear. Close up his skin was almost translucent; there wasn’t a crease. It was difficult to work out how old he was. ‘I know.’ Still smiling, he motioned towards the main entrance. ‘Shall we?’ His accent was like a 1950s BBC newsreader’s.
As we stepped into the heat I saw the Beemer, Rob at the wheel, wraparounds shielding his eyes. We both put our sun-gigs on. The windows were up; I hoped that meant the air was running.
The Uzbek opened the rear door and ushered me inside. Coolish air hit me. I glanced up just before my head disappeared under the roof and I could see the balcony doors were open again. There was a brief flash of light. Jerry was on the balcony. He was a professional, he understood the dangers, and it pissed me off that he wasn’t doing as he was told.
Rob’s boss got in beside me and closed the door. Rob’s semi-automatic was tucked under his right thigh. He wore no body armour. I could see it in front of me, tucked into the right passenger footwell along with the AK. Maybe he was trying to blend in a little with the outside world as we drove around – not that it was going to happen unless he acquired a serious suntan before we hit the main.
I was going to have to grip Jerry when I got back. For all I knew, I might be in one of his pictures now and I didn’t like that. Never had done. I didn’t even like showing my passport at Immigration.
58
The scaffold bar acting as a barrier was lifted by the bored local on stag. Two Aussie infantry in the shade of a tree looked just as uninterested.
Nothing was said until we got to the main, where we had to wait for a convoy of tanks and AFVs to pass. One of the tanks looked like it had been attacked very recently. The side facing us was scorched all the way up to the turret. The Bergens and other kit strapped to the outside were burnt to a crisp, and anything plastic had melted and stuck to the steel.
‘My name is Benzil.’ He spoke calmly and quietly.
I smiled politely.
‘While we all waited for the flight from Amman – wasn’t that a wait? – Robert told me some quite amusing stories of your younger days in the army.’ He leaned forward and tapped his shoulder. ‘Isn’t that so, Robert?’
Rob nodded and smiled in the rear-view mirror as we turned right to merge with the main. Even with all the dust covering the windows, a bunch of locals did double-takes. Three whites in a car wasn’t an everyday sight. Doesn’t matter if you’re white, black, brown or yellow, if you’re where you don’t belong, there’s always someone wanting to know what the fuck you’re up to.
Benzil’s head was turned towards me, but I couldn’t make out where his eyes were behind his gigs. Pleasantries over, he was ready to get down to business. ‘Robert has explained the situation in our country to you, and that we are here, just like you, to find Mr Nuhanovic. What I would now like to tell you is the rest of our story, including where Mr Nuhanovic, and you, if you wish, fit into it. I hope you will find it illuminating, so please indulge me.’