Eden gave him a grateful look as Alex slipped out of the room.
‘We have to move on, and fast,’ Eden said. ‘Alex is right, we’ll start with a visit to Karim’s home. I’d like you to go as soon as Alex gets back.’
She glanced at Dennis, the head of the investigation unit.
Sebastian indicated that he had something to say.
‘There’s something else.’
Eden looked at him.
‘We called all the phones that were used to make the four bomb threats yesterday. They’re all switched on.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘It’s true. We’ve managed to trace them through the phone mast, and it appears that all four phones are in the same place. Inside the airport complex. We’ve got teams on the way there now to try and find them.’
How was it possible that someone who had made a point of making each call on a different phone that couldn’t be traced had then left the phones switched on, enabling the police to find them? Eden didn’t know what to think. Either they were dealing with an amateur, or someone who was careless. Or else, they were heading straight into a trap, meticulously rigged by someone who was holding four hundred passengers hostage.
21 WASHINGTON, DC, 06:05
It was morning, but still dark outside. Bruce was wishing he’d had more sleep during the night. If he’d known he was going to be up so goddamn early, he would have sent Daisy home much sooner. Daisy with the long legs. The woman he couldn’t live with, couldn’t live without. A classic crap relationship, in other words.
One of the secretaries came into his office.
‘They’re here.’
Bruce gathered up his papers and quickly made his way to the conference room on the ground floor, where four CIA agents were waiting for him. The resources allocated to counter-terrorism measures had increased significantly within the FBI in recent years, and the same was true of the CIA. Bruce wished he’d brought some back up along when he saw how many agents had turned up from the other organisation. It made the Bureau appear inferior.
He steeled himself. He knew that the CIA had information he needed, and he had no intention of giving up until he’d got it out of them.
The CIA agents sat down in a row along one side of the table. Pitching up at this meeting alone had definitely been a mistake.
‘Thanks for coming at such short notice,’ Bruce said, sitting down.
‘No problem. I hardly need to say that we’re just as worried about all this as you are.’
The man who spoke occupied one of the middle seats. He had an air of natural authority within the group, and Bruce knew he was the one who had been nominated to speak on behalf of them all. Bruce thought they had met once before; was his name – or was he known as – Green? If he remembered correctly, he was one of the heads of the CIA’s international counter-terrorism unit.
‘Of course.’
‘The fact is, before we do anything we need to have a discussion about which of us actually has the responsibility for this issue.’
Fuck. Bruce felt a surge of anger. His boss would take him apart for having put himself in such an obviously inferior position.
‘As we see it, according to the information we have received, the FBI has the lead on this matter.’
The man opposite smiled.
‘That’s strange, because we feel the CIA has the lead. At least as long as the plane is outside US air space.’
He had a point, and Bruce knew it.
‘That doesn’t change a thing. The plane’s intended destination is New York, which is, as you know, US territory. And therefore the responsibility of the FBI.’
The CIA was legally banned from operating on US soil; they hardly needed reminding of that fact.
‘Let’s not argue about this right now,’ Green said. ‘I understood from your message that you had some questions about Tennyson Cottage.’
‘That’s right. As you know, Tennyson Cottage is named in the bomb threat that was found on the plane. Needless to say, I’m wondering how the person who wrote the note could possibly know about Tennyson Cottage, and secondly, what it has to do with Zakaria Khelifi.’
Green sat in silence for a moment, his plump forehead deeply furrowed.
‘I must be honest and admit that we can’t answer either of your questions. Which is incredibly embarrassing, of course, but true nonetheless.’
‘You must be able to give me something to work on,’ Bruce said. ‘Names, dates, telephone numbers, anything at all with a Swedish connection.’
Green exchanged a few muttered words with the colleague on his left. Unbelievable. Bruce realised that none of the others was going to speak during the meeting. Green was in charge, and that was the end of it.
‘As I’m sure you understand, Tennyson Cottage is part of the most sensitive, and therefore the most secret element of our operations. With all the rumours about torture and waterboarding over the past few years, places like Tennyson Cottage are simply not up for discussion. It’s out of the question.’
‘I’m afraid it’s too late for that,’ Bruce said. ‘Tennyson Cottage has already been leaked to the media. It’s only a question of time before some journalist sits down and Googles the name, and finds the meagre amount of information available on the internet. It’s enough for them to work out what kind of place it is.’
‘Exactly,’ Green said. ‘Which is why we need to lay low, restrict the dissemination of information about what goes on there to the fewest people possible.’
Bruce didn’t have the energy to carry on being diplomatic. It was getting him nowhere in any case.
‘And I’m not part of this restricted group?’
‘Let’s not get upset for no reason. Naturally we will co-operate with the FBI as necessary.’
They were sitting in a sandpit, digging big holes with little spades and harsh words.
Green leaned across the table.
‘I will give you what you need. But not a word to the Swedes. Any information they receive will come from us. Is that clear?’
Bruce nodded.
‘Tennyson Cottage is one of our newer institutions,’ Green went on. ‘It’s only been operating for just over three years. We’ve kept it as a limited facility; we didn’t want to make it too big or too well known. You could say that some of the really difficult cases ended up there. High-ranking members of Al Qaeda, when we want them to start talking.’
Start talking.
Bruce knew what that meant. And he was one of those who didn’t like it. Torture belonged back in the Dark Ages. Besides which, it was pointless. You couldn’t rely on information that was forced out of someone with the help of electric shocks or waterboarding or similar methods. However, he didn’t share his views with Green, otherwise the meeting would have been over before it had even started.
‘It’s hardly one of our most important detention facilities, but it has served its purpose with a certain amount of success. A total of approximately fifty detainees have been held there. We have tried to limit the numbers. No more than fifteen at a time, and no one has stayed longer than six months.’
‘You just pumped them for what they knew, then moved them on?’
‘That was the idea, and that’s how it worked. Of the fifty or so who have been there, forty-five were taken care of in a more permanent way; some were sent back to Pakistan, where they were handed over to our Pakistani colleagues, and some were dealt with in other ways. What has happened to them is actually of little interest; the important thing is that since their sojourn in Tennyson Cottage, they have had extremely limited opportunities to pass on their experiences to anyone else.’
Bruce made a huge effort to remain neutral. He had met enough CIA agents to know that far from all of them shared Green’s grotesque view of how the so-called war on terror would be won, which was why he was always equally surprised when he did come across someone like Green. Bruce also knew that it wasn’t only the US government that had held a positive view of the use of torture to a certain extent. An astonishingly large number of the world’s democracies believed that under certain circumstances, torture could be both useful and justified.