Deep Black

32

Ten minutes for the beers, my arse. I went and joined the Saddam-lookalike competition on the settees; I just didn’t bother trying to smoke myself to death at the same time.

Faces flowed constantly in and out of the hotel, and I recognized one. It was Rob, on his way out. He was on his own, with no ID laminate round his neck but an old semi-automatic on his hip. The Parkerization had worn away, exposing the dull steel beneath. In his hand was an unloaded AK, Para version. It had a shorter barrel than the normal assault rifle and a collapsible butt. Great for close-quarters work or in a car. That, too, had seen a few years’ wear and tear.

He caught my eye and smiled. Things were different now: we were on our own. I hauled myself off the settee. ‘Hello, mate, I thought you were dead!’

His big nose crinkled into a grin. ‘What’s going on, you on the circuit? I thought you’d dropped out years ago.’

‘Sort of. I’m working for an American. A journalist. He’s here for maybe a week to get a picture – a Bosnian guy, here in Baghdad, if you can believe that.’

He could. ‘There’s plenty of weirder stuff going on here – listen . . .’

Three German ex-Paras were singing their regimental song by the newly erected Bedouin tent as two Russians loading AK mags chatted to each other about the noise. Going by their crewcuts, tattoos and scars, they’d spent longer in Chechnya than in Moscow.

‘What about you? What firm you working for?’

‘None of those wankers.’ Rob had always wanted to go his own way. ‘I work for an Uzbek – he’s in the oil business.’

‘Staying here?’

‘No, the al-Hamra. Famous for its swimming-pool, chilled beers and dancing girls. Allegedly. It’s not as well protected as this, but he’s a private sort of guy, and it’s not like he’s not used to a bit of drama, if you know what I mean. That’s why I’ve been looking after him for the last three years. He’s a good man, as it happens.’

‘Even better. How long you here for?’

‘Four, five days? We’re not too sure. But no more than a week. I came to pick these fucking things up.’ He hefted the AK. ‘Three fifty they wanted for this heap of shit.’ His nose crinkled again as he had a thought. ‘What you doing tonight? CNN are having a pool party here.’

‘Without water?’

My fixer arrived with the beer. It had a Bavarian-looking label, and was probably brewed just up the road. There’d never been a problem with alcohol in Muslim countries like this, even in restaurants. You just brought your own and asked if it was OK to drink it.

I gave the guy fifteen dollars instead of the five he’d asked for. The ten was to make sure he came back in the morning with the weapons. As he left I turned back to Rob. ‘What time’s kick-off?’

‘Eightish? You’re here anyway.’

We shook hands and I watched him loading a mag on to his AK as he headed for the door.

The best part of an hour must have passed back on the settee before I heard the sudden sound of a heavy machine-gun, then short bursts of 5.56, both from less than three, four hundred metres away.

Jerry came through the main doors as if his tail was on fire. ‘You hear that? Fuck . . .’

I stood up. ‘Any luck at the mosque?’

‘Nope. Nothing at all. I’ll try again at Maghrib.’ His eyes scanned the activity in the lobby. ‘I got no news from DC either. I’ll keep on calling. I know if he finds out we’ll find out.’

‘So, come on, you can tell me now. We’re here, so it doesn’t matter. What paper does he work for?’

His eyes locked on to mine. This was going to be the last time he told me. ‘Look, Nick, you know the score with sources. I can’t, and won’t, say zip. He’d lose his job, man, everything. We gotta respect that shit.’

He was right, of course. But it didn’t stop me wanting to know.

He had an afterthought. ‘You want to use the phone?’

I shook my head.

‘What are you, Billy-no-mates?’

‘Something like that.’ I held up the beers. ‘Here, for you. I ain’t touching this shit.’

He took the bag off me as we headed for the lifts.

‘You staying in all night to drink those?’ I hit the lift call button. ‘Or you want to come to a party and maybe find Nuhanovic?’