“Yes, but in time...”
“After it was too late, perhaps. Is that what you’re trying to tell us?”
“No, I did not say that.”
“Then why did you not pick up a phone and ring our Ambassador in Geneva? He could have saved you all the expense and the trouble. Was it because you didn’t trust him either? Or perhaps he didn’t trust you?”
“Neither!” shouted Al Obaydi, leaping to his feet, but the guards grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him back onto the chair.
“Now that you’ve got that little outburst out of the way,” said the Prosecutor calmly, “perhaps we can continue. You traveled to Sweden, to Kalmar to be exact, to keep an appointment with a Mr. Pedersson, whom you did seem willing to phone.” The Prosecutor checked his notes again. “And what was the purpose of this visit, now that you have confirmed that it was not a vacation?”
“To try and find out who it was who had stolen the safe.”
“Or was it to make sure the safe was on the route you had already planned for it?”
“Certainly not,” said Al Obaydi, his voice rising. “It was I who discovered that Riffat was the Mossad agent Kratz.”
“You knew that Riffat was a Mossad agent?” queried the Prosecutor in mock disbelief.
“Yes, I found out when I was in Kalmar,” said Al Obaydi.
“But you told Mr. Pedersson that Mr. Riffat was a thorough man, a man who could be trusted. Am I right? So now at last we’ve found someone you can trust.”
“It was quite simply that I didn’t want Pedersson to know what I’d discovered.”
“I don’t think you wanted anyone to know what you had discovered, as I shall go on to show. What did you do next?”
“I flew back to Paris.”
“And did you spend the night at the embassy?”
“Yes, I did, but I was only stopping overnight on my way to Jordan.”
“I’ll come to your trip to Jordan in a moment, if I may. But what I should like to know now is why, when you were back at our embassy in Paris, you didn’t immediately call our Ambassador in Geneva to inform him of what you had discovered? Not only was the Ambassador in residence, but he took a call from another member of the embassy staff after you had gone to bed.”
Al Obaydi suddenly realized how Farrar knew everything. He tried to collect his thoughts.
“My only interest was getting back to Baghdad to let the Foreign Minister know the danger our leader might be facing.”
“Like the imminent danger of the Americans dropping bombs on Mukhbarat headquarters,” suggested the State Prosecutor.
“I could not have known what the Americans were planning,” shouted Al Obaydi.
“I see,” said Farrar. “It was no more than a happy coincidence that you were safely tucked up in bed in Paris while Tomahawk missiles were showering down on Baghdad.”
“But I returned to Baghdad immediately after I learned of the bombing,” insisted Al Obaydi.
“Perhaps you wouldn’t have been in quite such a hurry to return if the Americans had succeeded in assassinating our leader.”
“But my report would have proved...”
“And where is that report?”
“I intended to write it on the journey from Jordan to Baghdad.”
“How convenient. And did you advise your trustworthy friend Mr. Riffat to ring the Minister of Industry to find out if he was expected?”
“No, I did not,” said Al Obaydi. “If any of this were true,” he added, “why would I have worked so hard to see that our great leader secured the Declaration?”
“I’m glad you mentioned the Declaration,” said the State Prosecutor softly, “because I’m also puzzled by the role you played in that particular exercise. But first, let me ask you, did you trust our Ambassador in Geneva to see that the Declaration was delivered to Baghdad?”
“Yes. I did.”
“And did it reach Baghdad safely?” asked the Prosecutor, glancing at the battered parchment still nailed to the wall behind Saddam.
“Yes. It did.”
“Then why not entrust the knowledge you had acquired about the safe to the same man, remembering that it was his responsibility?”
“This was different.”
“It certainly was, and I shall show the Council just how different. How was the Declaration paid for?”
“I don’t understand,” said Al Obaydi.
“Then let me make it easier for you. How was each payment dealt with?”
“Ten million dollars was paid once the contract had been agreed, and a further forty million was paid when the Declaration was handed over.”
“And how much of that money — the state’s money — did you keep for yourself?”
“Not one cent.”
“Well, let us see if that is totally accurate, shall we? Where did the meetings take place for the exchange of these vast sums of money?”
“The first payment was made at a bank in New Jersey, and the second to Dummond et cie, one of our banks in Switzerland.”
“And the first payment of ten million dollars, if I understand you correctly, you insisted should be in cash?”
“That is not correct,” said Al Obaydi. “The other side insisted that it should be in cash.”
“How convenient. But then, once again, we only have your word for that, because our Ambassador in New York has stated it was you who insisted the first payment had to be in cash. Perhaps he misunderstood you as well. But let us move on to the second payment, and do correct me if I have misunderstood you.” He paused. “That was paid directly into Franchard et cie?”
“That is correct,” said Al Obaydi.
“And did you receive, I think the word is a ‘kickback,’ after either of these payments?”
“Certainly not.”
“Well, what is certain is that, as the first payment was made in cash, it would be hard for anyone to prove otherwise. But as for the second payment...” The Prosecutor paused to let the significance of his words sink in.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” snapped Al Obaydi.
“Then you must be having another lapse of memory, because during your absence, when you were rushing back from Paris to warn the President of the imminent danger to his life, you received a communication from Franchard et cie which, because the letter was addressed to our Ambassador in Paris, ended up on the desk of the Deputy Foreign Minister.”
“I’ve had no communication with Franchard et cie.”
“I’m not suggesting you did,” said the Prosecutor, as he strode forward to within a foot of Al Obaydi. “I’m suggesting they communicated with you. Because they sent you your latest bank statement in the name of Hamid Al Obaydi, dated June 25th, 1993, showing that your account was credited with one million dollars on February 18th, 1993.”
“It’s not possible,” said Al Obaydi defiantly.
“It’s not possible?” said the Prosecutor, thrusting a copy of the statement in front of Al Obaydi.
“This is easy to explain. The Cavalli family is trying to get revenge because we didn’t pay the full amount of one hundred million as originally promised.”
“Revenge, you claim. The money isn’t real? It doesn’t exist? This is just a piece of paper? A figment of our imagination?”
“Yes,” said Al Obaydi. “That is the truth.”
“So perhaps you can explain why one hundred thousand dollars was withdrawn from this account on the day after you had visited Franchard et cie?”
“That’s not possible.”
“Another impossibility? Another figment of the imagination? Then you have not seen this withdrawal order for one hundred thousand dollars, sent to you by the bank a few days later? The signature of which bears a remarkable resemblance to the one on the sanctions report which you accepted earlier as authentic.”