‘Would you like to see the… rooms?’ He couldn’t quite say ‘bedrooms’.
‘Sure,’ she said, as if she didn’t much care either way.
‘Obviously, you should have the double, the bigger one, I mean. If you prefer.’
He showed her the small room as well — ‘for comparison’. The more he said, the more he sounded like an estate agent. In his fantasy, which he had already replayed many times, she would be so intoxicated by the excitement of the evening, of having mingled with so many powerful, famous people, that she’d be desperate to leap into bed with him. But he knew that was what it was, no more than a fantasy. All the same, he ached to see her naked skin, and to touch her.
‘You choose. I don’t mind,’ he said needlessly. His heart thumped against his chest.
She put her bag down on the double bed and smiled. Should he make his move? As he hesitated, she moved towards the door to get her case, and he realized she was waiting for him to leave.
He went into the living room and sat on the sofa. Was she coming back? He put on the TV to drown out the sound of his blood pumping round his body.
He was still in a state of excitement from the evening at Downing Street. He had had a whole two minutes with the prime minister, with Nasima looking on.
‘You’re very good on camera — you’ve got the knack,’ the PM had told him. ‘So I rather fear we’re going to be ruthlessly exploiting you over the coming weeks. Are you getting everything you need?’
‘Oh, yes, thanks.’ He had started to describe the flat, then quickly stopped when he saw the PM wasn’t paying any attention: his eyes had flicked to Nasima.
‘And what do you do?’
‘Oh, I’ve put everything on hold to support Sahim.’
Her well-chosen answer pleased the PM, and Sam even more.
‘Well, then, he’s very lucky — and so are we that he’s got you. You know what they say, behind every great man and all that…’
But by then someone was at his ear and he was gone.
Sam turned to her and grinned, delighted by the PM’s reaction, but her face had gone blank, just as it had when he’d first set eyes on her. She shrugged. ‘Well, I guessed it was what he wanted to hear.’
In the car back to the flat she had hardly said a word. To fill the silence he thanked her for being there, twice, to which she had merely nodded acknowledgement. Perhaps she was tired. He was exhausted too, but the adrenalin rush from the evening — rubbing shoulders with the mighty, her by his side — was almost overpowering. He had never felt like this before.
‘I hope you don’t mind that everyone thought we were — you know.’
‘No, it was fine.’
Again, the slightly unnerving lack of response. At least if she’d been bothered by it that would have been something. He got the impression she didn’t want to discuss it, but wasn’t hugely moved one way or the other, as if the idea of being with him, like that, didn’t engender any emotion at all. That was the ultimate failure, to provoke indifference in a woman. Maybe she was conscious of the driver’s presence. It was one of the Party’s regulars, a Polish guy with whom Sam had already had one touchy discussion about the current situation.
The bedroom door opened. He turned, he hoped not too quickly. She had removed her makeup and was wearing a long dressing-gown, buttoned up to the neck, and slippers.
Never mind, he told himself. There will be other opportunities.
And now here they were in front of the TV, still not talking. Every now and then his eyes flicked away from the screen to her, in the passion-killer garment. His desire hadn’t been quelled at all. She could have been wearing a black sack for all he cared.
Eventually she switched off the TV and turned to him. His whole body glowed under her gaze. ‘I have some news about your brother.’
He felt the atmosphere in the room change. It was as if they were back in Doncaster, in that kitchen, the first time they’d met.
‘It’s not good.’
The coverage of the hostel bomber had already reminded him about Karza and, to his alarm, Sam realized he hadn’t lately been giving his brother much thought. Her words brought him back to earth with a bump.
‘Is he still alive?’
‘Yes. He was wounded and is being treated. But it’s complicated.’
‘You know for sure he’s all right?’
‘All I know is what I’m telling you.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘They have representatives here.’
‘Returnees?’
‘Since the bombing of the hostel they have to be very careful. Surveillance is being stepped up on them so communication is hard. They are also very angry with Britain.’
‘Because of the targeting of returnees?’
She shook her head. ‘Not just that. The rebel army council, which was funnelling help through Turkey, has been disbanded. The supplies promised by the West haven’t materialized so they’ve lost all credibility with their fighters on the ground, who were desperate for ammunition. Those groups like the one your brother was with had no option but to side with the more militant ones. It was that or die. They feel very bitter, very let down. They feel the West has betrayed them.’
‘But they are looking after him? Karza.’
Her look was quite cold. Was it selfish to be so concerned about one man when the whole struggle was at stake?
‘They are, now they know who his brother is. They’ve been told to keep him alive.’
What did she mean? He opened his mouth to speak but so many thoughts were crowding in that he couldn’t think what to say.
‘They want something back.’
The conversation seemed to be veering into alien territory. Less than an hour ago they had been mistaken for a couple; now she was becoming more business-like, more distant. He battled to manage the torrent of confused emotions swirling inside him.
‘What exactly?’
‘Their people here want to meet you.’
This was a world he had never had any contact or rapport with. He felt as though he was being pulled along on a conveyor-belt, outside his control. ‘Why?’
‘As I said, they know who you are, what you do.’
‘What difference does that make?’
‘They want to deal with you direct. There is only so much I can do, Sahim.’
He sensed her exasperation. He felt his face heating with embarrassment. ‘Of course — how stupid of me. I’m so grateful to you for doing this. How can I ever repay you?’
She allowed him a small smile. ‘Well, you are giving me a roof over my head.’
He felt the warmth come back a little, as if she had just flipped a switch.
‘So we are in each other’s debt.’
He seized the moment to take her hand. She didn’t resist, just let it lie there. Should he go further? He didn’t get to find out.
‘They want to see you tonight.’
‘But it’s—’ He looked at his watch: 01:12. ‘Now? Really?’
‘Yes.’
She released his hand and got up.
‘They will text me when they are near. And you mustn’t be alarmed: they will have to take some precautions, for security. I suggest you get some sleep until I need to wake you.’
45
There was a long line outside the reception room. To get in, the guests had to pass through a full security check and give up their phones to meaty, dark-suited guards in shades straight out of Men in Black.
Beth steered Tom past the line and straight through, where she broke away and went into full meeting-greeting-laughing mode as she guided people to their seats. Tom scanned the crowd: mostly male, almost uniformly middle-aged and white. A lot of the men had the square-jawed, whitewall haircut look of former military personnel. Others were clones of Stutz — grey men in grey suits. But there was another contingent somewhat less formally dressed, with beards and ponytails, who looked as if they had just ridden in on their bikes from the desert. What kind of big idea would unite these disparate factions?