‘Very well sir,’ Gerry had agreed, much relieved. She took the file and read through it aware of Cornwall appraising her. She suppressed a groan of irritation after completing it. ‘But shouldn’t MI5 be doing this?’ she had suggested, ‘after all it’s on their turf.’
‘But you’ve been involved in the operation already, and we need someone who speaks fluent Arabic,’ Cornwall had replied, ‘and also you can pass yourself off as an attractive woman if you make the effort.’
‘That’s a piece of patronising crap, if you don’t mind me saying so… sir.’
‘It might be patronising, even sexist if you like, but Sir Hugh thought that you should carry out this job rather than involve anyone new from MI5. After that fiasco in Kuwait we’ll see if you can carry out this task without upsetting anyone,’ he had said as she opened his office door, and then as his parting shot added ‘Or killing anyone!’ as she closed the door behind her.
Now she took one last look around the flat and then ran down the stairs and began the long walk back to where her car was parked. When she passed a litter bin, she chucked away the small glass vial that had contained the drug that had sent Rashid Hamsin to sleep. She walked a little further and then heard the sound of a van door slamming shut. She stopped and gazed back down the road and for a few guilty moments she wondered what would become of the young Iraqi before she dismissed the matter from her mind.
CHAPTER FOUR
During the flight from England Rashid Hamsin had spent most of the time staring out of the Gulfstream cabin window, but now it was dark and as they flew across the Nefud, the desert that covered the northwest of Saudi Arabia. There was not much to look at besides the stars and the isolated lights that might be small towns, or oil industry bases or military installations. Instead the young man spent his time staring at the seat back in front of him and occasionally glancing at the map and reading through the list of instructions that he had been given.
One of the pilots came out of the flight deck and walked along the aisle. ‘Colonel White, Sir! We’re starting our descent. We’ll be landing in about twenty five minutes.’ The tall American nodded, stood up, stretched and walked to the rear of the cabin and sat next to Rashid. Colonel Jasper White was the first person Rashid had seen when he woke up from the drug and he had been with him ever since. Rashid had learned that he was formerly of the US Marines, but he retained his rank and his military bearing. Although he was now over fifty years old he looked ten years younger, fit and tough; a seasoned veteran with white hair and moustache that contrasted his tan and suited his name.
‘Well, young man, we’ll be on the ground soon,’ said White. We’ll have a break of about an hour before we set off on the next phase. Dean will be going with you.’
Rashid glanced towards the taciturn American with the beard and long hair. Apart from introducing himself as Dean Furness and explaining that he would be his minder until the mission was complete he had barely exchanged a word with him. He had guided him from place to place and asked with perfect politeness if there was anything he needed; anything he could get him? Rashid had asked him once if he could release him, but Furness had merely raised his eyebrows and given his head a little shake. Rashid did not bother to ask him again.
With his finger Rashid traced the line on the map from King Khaled Military City, or KKMC as it was commonly called, along the road through the town of Hafar Al Batin towards the Kuwaiti border. Before the border, the line diverged from the road along a track that ran through a wadi and then across the boundary into Iraq. A few miles on the other side was geographical reference point where Rashid Hamsin would be met by a senior official of the Iraqi government.
Jasper White wondered why Bruckner had insisted that this young man be entrusted with the mission. Presumably he was related to the Hussein clique that effectively controlled the country with the help of a brutal secret police force. Probably this Hamsin guy had relatives; parents, grandparents, brothers and sisters who would be hostage to his continuing good behaviour. He wondered if the young man would be allowed to join his family as soon as he had delivered the package, or if he would be incarcerated until the whole affair was over. He also harboured a dreadful suspicion that he might be killed, but he hoped that so long as he did not know the contents of the package he would probably be safe.
Twenty minutes later the Gulfstream landed at the remote desert military base that had been pivotal in operation Desert Storm on the occasion that the Iraqi army had been driven out of Kuwait in 1991. White waited impatiently as the pilot opened the door and extended the folding stairs. He hurried down and was greeted by the Saudi duty officer who was assigned to supervise the airbase during the night and the US Marine Major named Hansen who had come to meet him. They chatted idly for a while about the preparations on the base for the invasion of Iraq while the freight was unloaded. When the Saudi officer had driven away, White climbed back up to the aircraft cabin and brought Rashid Hamsin and Dean Furness down the stairs. ‘This is Lieutenant Harris,’ he announced. ‘He’s the young British officer who is going to cross the border into Iraq with you this evening. Lieutenant Harris — Major Hansen.’ Hansen held out his hand to Rashid.
‘Glad to have you aboard Lieutenant.’ He made no comment regarding the absence of badges of rank, sidearm or the young man’s lack of military bearing.
‘And this is Dean Furness, Major. He’ll be going out and back with you and he’ll be on hand if there are any er… unexpected outcomes. He’s one of my top guys; you can trust him with your life.’
Major Hansen stared with some disapproval at the scruffy-looking man before shaking his hand.
‘Now remember. You go to the rendezvous point and wait no longer than one hour. If there is nobody there to meet you, you come home again. Are your ready to get going, Major?’
‘Yes Colonel. We should depart in thirty minutes. We have thirty minutes in hand and if necessary we will lose that in the wadi before we cross the border.’
‘Very good. Well, where can we wait until then?’
‘Perhaps you should just wait on board the airplane, sir. I’ll drive back up in thirty minutes from now.’
At 23:00 local time, two armoured Humvees drove up beside the Gulfstream, and under Furness’s instruction Rashid settled himself into the cabin at the back of the first vehicle, its roof festooned with antennae. The second one carried a heavy calibre gun mounted on the back. Jasper White handed a heavy leather document case to Rashid. ‘Now, you’re sure you’ll recognise Hakim Mansour?’
Rashid remembered a friendly man, rather overweight with a twinkling eye and a ready laugh that his father treated with reserved courtesy on the occasions that he visited their house. ‘Of course; my father has worked for him ever since I can remember.’
‘Good. These seals must be intact when you hand this briefcase over; otherwise Mansour might have you shot.’ He paused. ‘You know I’m serious about that?’
Rashid swallowed, remembering the flashes of anger that he had witnessed Mansour direct at his personal secretary and chauffeur and their fearful expressions. ‘I understand.’
‘Now Major Hansen and his men won’t be having any conversation with you about where you’re going and what you’re doing apart from the absolute minimum. It’s not that they’re unfriendly, or anything; it’s just their orders.’
Rashid nodded glumly. The American smiled at him from under his white moustache. ‘Cheer up. If all goes to plan, you will be doing your country a great service. I can’t explain to you exactly how, but you can count on that. And Furness is a good man; he’ll see you get there safely.’