“I hope, Minister,” said Hannah as she put her glasses back on, “that I have never given you cause for concern in the past.”
The Minister stared across at her, and then began dictating at a rapid pace.
“The President invited the Foreign Minister and myself to a confidential meeting at the palace this morning — date this memo today. Barazan Al-Tikriti, our trusted Ambassador in Geneva, contacted the President during the night to warn him that, after weeks of diligent surveillance, he has uncovered a plot by a group of Zionists to steal a safe from Sweden and use it as a means of illegally entering Iraq. The safe was due for delivery to Baghdad following the lifting of an embargo under UN Security Council Resolution 661. The President has ordered that General Hamil be given the responsibility for dealing with the terrorists” — Hannah thought she saw the Deputy Foreign Minister shudder — “while the Foreign Ministry has been asked to look into the role played in this particular conspiracy by one of its own staff, Hamid Al Obaydi.
“Our Ambassador in Geneva has discovered that Al Obaydi visited the engineering firm of Svenhalte AC in Kalmar, Sweden, on Monday, June 28th, without being directed to do so by any of his superiors. During that visit he was informed of the theft of the safe and the fact that it was being transported to Baghdad. Following his trip to Kalmar, Al Obaydi stayed overnight at our Interest Section in Paris, when he would have had every opportunity to inform Geneva or Baghdad of the Zionist plot, but he made no attempt to do so.
“Al Obaydi left Paris the following morning and, although we know he boarded a flight to Jordan, he has not yet shown up at the border. The President has ordered that if Al Obaydi crosses any of our national frontiers, he should be arrested and taken directly to General Hamil at the headquarters of the Revolutionary Command Council.”
Hannah’s pencil flew across the pages of her shorthand notebook as she tried to keep up with the Minister.
“The safe,” continued the Deputy Foreign Minister, “is currently being transported aboard an army truck, and is expected to arrive at the border with Jordan some time during the next forty-eight hours.
“All customs officers have received a directive to the effect that the safe is the personal property of the President, and therefore when it reaches the border it must be given priority to continue its journey on to Baghdad.
“Our Ambassador in Geneva, having had a long conversation with a Mr. — ” the Minister checked his notes “—Pedersson, is convinced that the group accompanying the safe are agents of the CIA, Mossad or possibly even the British SAS. Like the President, the Ambassador feels the infiltrators’ sole interest is in recovering the Declaration of Independence. The President has given orders that the document should not be moved from its place on the wall of the Council Chamber, as this could alert any internal agent to warn the terrorist group not to enter the country.
“Twenty of the President’s special guards are already on their way to the border with Jordan,” continued the Minister. “They will be responsible for monitoring the progress of the safe, and will report directly to General Hamil.
“Once the agents of the West have been apprehended and thrown in jail, the world’s press will be informed that their purpose was to assassinate the President. The President will immediately appear in public and on television, and will make a speech denouncing the American and Zionist warmongers. Sayedi believes that neither the Americans nor the Israelis will ever admit to the real purpose of their raid, but that they will be unable to deny the President’s claim. Sayedi feels this whole episode can be turned into a public relations triumph, because if the assassination attempt is announced on the same day that the President publicly burns the Declaration of Independence, it will make it even harder for the Americans to retaliate.
“Starting tomorrow, the President requires a situation update every morning at nine and every evening at six. Both the Foreign Minister and I are to report to him directly. If Al Obaydi is picked up, the President is to be informed immediately, whatever the time, night or day.”
Hannah’s pencil hadn’t stopped scribbling across her note pad for nearly twenty minutes. When the Deputy Minister finally came to an end, she tried to take in the full significance of the information she now possessed.
“I need one copy of this report drafted as quickly as possible, no further copies to be made, nothing put on tape and all your shorthand notes must be shredded once the memo has been handed to me.” Hannah nodded as the Deputy Foreign Minister picked up the phone and dialed the internal number of his superior.
Hannah returned to her room and began typing up the dictation slowly, at the same time trying to commit the salient points to memory. Forty-five minutes later she placed a single copy of the report on the Minister’s desk.
He read the script carefully, adding the occasional note in his own hand. When he was satisfied that the memo fully covered the meeting that had taken place that morning, he set off down the corridor to rejoin the Foreign Minister.
Hannah returned to her desk, aware that the team bringing the safe from Sweden was moving inexorably towards Saddam’s trap. And if they had received her postcard...
When Al Obaydi landed in Jordan, he could not help feeling a sense of triumph.
Once he had passed through customs at Queen Alia Airport and was out on the road, he selected the most modern taxi he could find. The old seventies Chevy had no air conditioning and showed 187,000 miles on the odometer. He asked the driver to take him to the Iraqi border as quickly as possible.
The car never left the slow lane on its six-hour journey to the border, and because of the state of the roads Al Obaydi was unable to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. When the driver eventually reached the highway, he still couldn’t go much faster because of the oil that had been spilled from trucks carrying loads they had illegally picked up in Basra, to sell at four times the price in Amman. Loads that Al Obaydi had assured the United Nations General Assembly time and again were a figment of the Western world’s imagination. He also became aware of trucks traveling in the opposite direction that were full of food that he knew would be sold to black-marketeers, long before any of it reached Baghdad.
Al Obaydi checked his watch. If the driver kept going at this speed he wouldn’t reach the border before the customs post closed at midnight.
When Scott landed at Queen Alia Airport later that day and stepped onto the tarmac, the first thing that hit him was a temperature of ninety-five degrees. Even dressed in an open-neck shirt, jeans and sneakers, he felt roasted before he had reached the airport terminal. Once he’d entered the building, he was relieved to find it was air conditioned, and his one bag came up on the carousel just as quickly as it would have in the States. He checked his watch and changed it to Central Eastern time.
The immigration officer hadn’t seen many Swedish passports before, but as his father had been an engineer, he wished Mr. Bernstrom a successful trip.
As Scott strolled through the green channel, he was stopped by a customs official who was chewing something. He instructed the foreigner to open his bulky canvas bag. After rummaging around inside, the only thing the officer showed any interest in was a long, thin cardboard tube that had been wedged along the bottom of the bag. Scott removed the cap on the end of the tube, pulled out the contents and unrolled a large poster, which was greeted by the official with such puzzled amazement that he even stopped chewing for a moment. He waved Scott through.