Scott removed a file from his bag and showed Mr. Ibrahim its contents.
The man read through each document slowly until he came to the letter signed by the President. He read no further. Looking up, he asked, “May I see this safe, Mr. Bernstrom?”
“Certainly,” said Scott. “Please follow me.” He led the official out onto the street and took him over to the truck.
Cohen stared down at them. When Kratz gave the order, he whipped the tarpaulin off the safe so that the civil servant could inspect Madame Bertha for himself.
Scott was fascinated by the fact that those passing in the street didn’t give the safe a second look. If anything, they quickened their pace. Fear manifested itself among these people by their lack of curiosity.
“Please return with me, Mr. Bernstrom,” said Ibrahim. Scott accompanied him back to the reception area, where he left without another word.
Scott waited for another thirty minutes before Ibrahim came back.
“You are to take the safe to Victory Square, where you will see a barrier with a tank in front of a large white building. They are expecting you.”
Scott was about to ask where Victory Square was when Ibrahim turned and walked away. He went back to the truck, and joined Kratz and Aziz in the front before passing on the news. Aziz didn’t need to be told the way.
“No special treatment there, I’m glad to see,” said Kratz.
Scott nodded his agreement as Aziz eased the truck back into the road. The traffic was much heavier now. Trucks and cars were honking their horns, managing to move only a few inches at a time.
“It must be an accident,” said Scott, until they turned the corner and saw the three bodies hanging from a makeshift gallows: a man wearing an expensive designer suit, a woman perhaps a little younger and another, much older, woman. It was hard to be certain, with their heads shaven.
Mr. Kajami sat at his desk, dialed the number that had been passed to him and waited.
“Deputy Foreign Minister’s Office, Miss Saib speaking.”
“This is the Minister of Industry calling. Could you put me through to the Deputy Foreign Minister.”
“I’m afraid he’s out of the office at the moment, Mr. Kajami. Shall I ask him to return your call, or would you like to leave a message?”
“I will leave a message, but perhaps he could also call me when he gets back.”
“Certainly, Minister.”
“Could you let him know that the safe has arrived from Sweden and can therefore be crossed off the sanctions list.” There was a long pause. “Are you still there, Miss Saib?”
“Yes. I was just writing down what you said, sir.”
“If he needs to see the relevant forms we still have them at the Ministry, but if it’s the safe he wants to check on, it’s already on its way to the Ba’ath headquarters.”
“I understand, sir. I’ll see he gets the message just as soon as he comes in.”
“Thank you, Miss Saib.”
Kajami replaced the phone on the hook, glanced across his desk at the Deputy Foreign Minister and smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Aziz brought the truck to a halt in front of a tank. A few soldiers were moving around, but there didn’t appear to be a great deal of activity.
“I was expecting a bigger show of force than this,” said Kratz. “It’s the Ba’ath Party headquarters, after all.”
“Saddam’s probably at the palace, or even out of Baghdad,” suggested Aziz as two soldiers advanced towards the truck. The first one shouted “Out!” and they obeyed slowly. Once all four of them were on the ground, the soldier ordered them to stand a few yards away from the truck while a couple of other soldiers jumped up on the back and removed the tarpaulin.
“This one’s a Major,” whispered Aziz as a portly man covered in battle ribbons and carrying a mobile phone advanced towards them. He stopped and looked up at the safe suspiciously before turning to Kratz and introducing himself as Major Saeed.
“Open,” was all he added.
Kratz pointed to Scott, who climbed up onto the back of the truck while several more soldiers surrounded the vehicle to watch him perform the opening ceremony. Once Scott had pulled the great door open, the Major joined him on the back of the truck, but not until one of the soldiers had given him a hand-up. He stood a pace back and ordered two of his men to go inside. They appeared apprehensive at first, but once they had entered the safe they began touching the sides and even jumping up to try to reach the roof. A few moments later, Saeed joined them, and banged the walls with his swagger stick. He then stepped back out, jumped heavily off the truck and turned towards Scott.
“Now we wait for a crane,” he said, sounding a little more friendly. He dialed a number on the phone.
Cohen climbed into the cab and sat behind the wheel, the keys still in the ignition, while Aziz remained on the back with the safe. Scott and Kratz leaned against a wall, trying to appear bored, while having a conversation on the alternatives they now faced.
“We must find some way of getting into the building ahead of the safe,” said Kratz. Scott nodded his agreement.
The clock in Victory Square had struck 12:30 before Aziz spotted the tall, thin structure progressing slowly around the massive statue of Saddam. The four of them watched as soldiers ran out into the street to hold up the flow of traffic and allow the vast crane to continue its progress uninterrupted.
Scott explained to the Major that the truck now needed to be moved to a position opposite the front door. He agreed without a phone call. When the truck was parked exactly where Scott wanted it, Major Saeed finally conceded that the doors would have to come off their hinges if they were ever going to get the safe and its dolly inside the building.
This time he did make a phone call, and to Scott’s question, “How long?” he simply shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Must wait.”
Scott was determined to use the “must wait” period, and explained to Major Saeed that he needed to walk the route that the safe would travel once they had entered the building.
The Major hesitated, made a further phone call, held on for some time before he received an answer and then, pointing to Scott, said, “You, only.”
Scott left Kratz to organize the crane as it prepared to lift the safe off the truck, and followed the Major into the building.
The first thing that Scott noticed as he walked down the carpeted corridor was its width and solid feel. Every few paces there were soldiers lounging against the wall who sprang to attention the moment they saw Major Saeed.
At the end of the corridor was an elevator. The Major produced a key and turned it in a lock on the wall. The doors of the elevator opened slowly. It struck Scott that the size of the safe must have been determined by the width of the elevator. He doubted if there would be much more than an inch to spare all around once they had succeeded in getting Madame Bertha on board.
The Major pressed a button marked “—6,” which, Scott noted, was as far as they could go. The elevator dropped slowly down. When the doors opened Scott followed Major Saeed into a long corridor. This time he had the feeling that the passageway had been built to survive an earthquake. They came to a halt outside a pair of heavy, reinforced doors, guarded by two soldiers carrying rifles.
Saeed asked a question, and both guards shook their heads. “The Chamber is empty, so we can go straight through,” he explained, then proceeded to unlock the door. Scott followed him into the Council Chamber.
His eyes searched quickly around the room. The first thing he saw on the far wall was another massive portrait of Saddam, this time in a dark double-breasted suit. Then he spotted one of the red alarm buttons next to a light switch that Kratz had warned him about. The Major hurried on through the Chamber, giving the impression of a man who hadn’t the right to be there, while Scott went as slowly as he felt he could get away with. And then he saw it, just for a moment, and his heart sank: the Declaration of Independence was nailed to the wall, a corner torn and some of the signatures looking distinctly blurred.