Fortress

49

Sam sat on the tube, watching the commuters nodding to the music in their earbuds, eyes glued to iPads, Kindles and tabloids: ‘My Serial Sex Cheat Shame’ and below it ‘TIME TO STOP THE TERROR’. The whole front page of the Sun was devoted to a statement by someone — perhaps the paper itself. ‘The government must bring itself to think the unthinkable… The time has come to stop the talk and take action… The enemy within… Time to face the facts. Where all the terror is coming from and what we need to do to stop it. Stop it now.’

The words swam in front of his eyes. All he could see was the film they had shown him of Karza. Help me, brother. Before, he had been quick to dismiss him and his absurd delusions of being a warrior. Now, for the first time he could remember, he began to think of him differently. In the past, he had never had any reason to admire him. Now he saw that each of them in their own very different ways had gone searching for meaning, for validation, to do something that made a difference. And here he was and there Karza was.

He thought about throwing himself on the mercy of Pippa. She had been very understanding. They would want to avoid a scandal. And they had rich donors. Or just go to the Foreign Office. No! How could he be so naïve? He thought of his mother seeing the footage he had been shown, the last sight of her son alive, pleading for her other son to help him. He would have to do something… but what?

He became aware of the other passengers looking at him. A girl reading a Kindle seemed to be frowning. An elderly red-faced man was also looking askance at him, as if Sam himself was the enemy. Was this tolerant country, which had welcomed him with open arms, now turning against him?