The hushed tones around the drive-through had been replaced by the low, all-pervading rumble of people talking to God. There’s no middle man when Muslims pray, no vicar or priest with exclusive access to God’s cell number. Islam offers the worshipper a hotline to his creator.
Salkic had settled himself on one of the rugs off to the right, about half-way along a row of worshippers offering Salah.
Some stood with their palms upraised; some were already bowing; others were on their knees with their foreheads and noses pressed to the floor. Some were addressing Allah aloud; others mumbled quietly to themselves.
Salkic had his back to us and was standing with his hands open each side of his head. This was the first stage of Salah, I knew that much. Most of the guys around him were well into it.
I scrunched up the napkin in my hand and knelt on Salkic’s right; Jerry did so on his left. He eyed us both but didn’t look concerned: he just carried on with his devotions. He was very well dressed. The shirt looked Italian and expensive, and so did the silk tie and jacket.
Jerry’s palms went up by his head. Salkic had finished that bit and lowered his arms to his sides. I followed suit and began to speak to him, keeping my voice low. ‘We tried to make contact with Hasan Nuhanovic in Baghdad.’ I checked to see if this was registering. ‘I was with the Jew, Benzil, when he got killed. Nuhanovic knew he was in the city – does he know he’s dead?’
Salkic bowed and muttered a few more things to Allah. His green eyes closed a little; he was trying to look as if what I had said meant nothing to him. But my words had struck home. He knew Benziclass="underline" we had the right man.
‘Tell him we need to see him as soon as possible.’ I turned to face him as he straightened up. ‘Tell him I was at the cement factory. I saw it all, even what happened to the girls once he left. Does he know they kept some back? I saw what happened.’
Jerry leaned forward and shot me a quizzical look as I slipped the ball of napkin into Salkic’s pocket.
‘This is where we are. There’s no time to test commitment – we’re being followed by slavers. We might have to leave the city quickly.’
Salkic remained silent as he went down on his knees, then mumbled into the rug, ‘Go back to your hotel and wait.’
There was no point staying: I’d said what I’d come to say. A few people glared at me as I eased my way out, but most were too bound up in what they were doing to pay much attention.
The flat tops were in here as well, over by the side entrance we’d used earlier in the day. They must have seen everything. Fuck it, so what? I had more than enough to worry about. Regardless of what he’d said, Salkic, the gatekeeper, would either pass on the message or not. It wasn’t something I could control. And if Nuhanovic received my message, he’d either say yes, or he’d say no. I had no control over that either.
I’d find out soon enough. If Salkic didn’t do the job, or he did and Nuhanovic didn’t want to play, it was going to be a long, boring business trying to follow, cheat or threaten Salkic to find out where his boss was. Fuck it, I hadn’t come all the way here for nothing.
Jerry was at my shoulder as we walked back towards the river. There were no flat tops in sight yet.
A couple of German SFOR 4x4s had pulled up on the pavement. The troops were haggling with a stallholder over some pirate DVDs.
We sat on a bench in a kids’ play area, which butted up to a squat and ugly concrete block of flats thrown up in the seventies. If we were still being followed, we’d find out soon enough.
I could see two Sarajevo roses from where we were sitting, one near a set of swings, another near a curly slide. The Serbs always said that the children killed during the siege were the unintended victims of shellfire, but the Sarajevans knew better. Around two hundred and fifty kids were killed by sniper fire alone and there’s never anything unintentional or uncalculated about what a sniper does.
The concrete facings were still scabbed up and covered in graffiti. Beyond the slide and seesaw was a mosque about the size of a two-bedroomed house, with a stone minaret.
Jerry put on his happy face. ‘What was that about Mladic? Were you really there? The factory? Shit, I told you that story, but you knew all along?’
I nodded, checking again for company. I didn’t need to tell Jerry to do the same. His eyes roamed left and right.
‘Is it true, you know, he saved all those people?’
‘Something like that.’
‘You get any film – shit, that would be amazing if—’
‘No, no pictures. I’d had my kit stolen. I was trying to get back to the city and hid near the factory when I heard the wagons heading my way.’
It started to rain.
‘No good sitting here now, we’ll look right dickheads.’ It would be obvious to the flat tops what we were doing. We got up and followed the river back to the hotel.
75
Jerry put the Thuraya and camera on charge while I looked in all the drawers for a Yellow Pages or directory, but there wasn’t one. The Gideons hadn’t been to visit, either.
The room was freezing so I kept my plastic coat on and pulled a couple of small bottles of Italian pear juice from the minibar. I looked through the rain-streaked window. Two Blackhawks hovered above the city, disappearing now and again into the grey clouds.
‘Here’s the score.’ I lobbed a bottle at him and he gave it a shake. ‘There are three things that might happen to us. One, we get a visit from Salkic, which hopefully will be with a smile. Two, we get a visit from the flat tops, and I imagine that won’t be. Three, we get fuck-all visits, in which case we go and find Salkic at the mosque again tomorrow, and we follow him. If he doesn’t turn to, we’ll have to check phone books, ask around, try to track him down. Then we find out how he makes contact with Nuhanovic, and hopefully we find out where Nuhanovic is – then you get your picture and maybe I get to find out who killed Rob. After that, well, I’m going back to Baghdad. Maybe kill whoever killed Rob, then get a job on the circuit. Why not? Got fuck-all else to do.’
We twisted the caps off the bottles. Jerry had gone quiet again: maybe he didn’t like me talking about killing. It was time to get off the subject.
‘If we get lifted by the flat tops tonight we’re going to have to think on our feet, big-time. There’s no way out of here except by jumping on to the coffee-bar canopy, just like in those Jackie Chan movies.’
Jerry gave a nervous laugh. He didn’t fancy plummeting straight through the canvas and ending up bent round the cappuccino machine any more than I did. But if the wrong guys came calling, it might be the only option. ‘If we do get away and have to split, we’ll meet in the car park by the Romeo and Juliet bridge, OK? Wait there for two hours. If I don’t turn up, you’re on your own. I’ll do the same if I’m there first. You got that?’
Jerry nodded calmly enough, but I knew he was flapping. I patted his shoulder. ‘Listen, I doubt that’ll happen. If it’s Nuhanovic the flat tops want, they’ll wait and see if we lead them to him.’
I got up and went over to the window. It was now dark and headlights pierced the rain along Snipers’ Alley. ‘Well, I think the condemned men deserve to have their last meal, don’t you?’
Jerry smiled and reached for the bedside phone. He ordered us both the house special, Sarajevo burger and chips, and loads of extra bread and red sauce for the butties.
‘Tell them to call us when they bring the food up. Say we’re both going to be in the bath, and you want to make sure one of us is able to get the door.’
The last thing I wanted was to open up for what we thought was room service, and get a trolleyload of flat top-with-Goatee instead.