Fortress

32

He had no idea what time it was. Daylight streamed in through the kitchen window, which seemed to loom above him at an unfamiliar angle. His eyes widened as he realized where he was. There was a strong smell of piss and alcohol. He glanced at the floor. The lower half of his body felt cold. And wet. He looked at himself. He was naked from the waist down, his linen trousers round his ankles. With a jolt, it came back. As he moved, pain flashed between his buttocks. He turned his head and vomited.

He dragged up his pants and trousers, felt the pockets. His phone was gone. Then he remembered the laptop. Ignoring the pain now, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, pulled on his clothes. The fridge door yawned open. In the pool of water in front of it his bag and wallet lay open and face down. His cards were still there but the cash was gone. The bag was empty, the laptop gone. Using the table he had once sat at to do his homework, he hauled himself up, then slowly sat in a chair.

Then he remembered Nasima. She couldn’t see him like this. He got to his feet and saw himself in the mirror, his face bruised and bloody. Then he noticed the clock on the oven. It was seven a.m. He must have missed her — or maybe she hadn’t come, after all.

He threw himself into a frenzy of activity, clearing up the kitchen, mopping the floor. He stripped off his clothes and threw them into the bin. In Karza’s room he found a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a hoodie. They would have to do. In the bathroom he did what he could to clean up his face, but tears of rage blurred his vision. When the doorbell rang he jumped.

‘Who is it?’

It was Nasima. He opened the door and her mouth dropped open. ‘What happened?’

‘What does it look like?’

He shut the door quickly and showed her upstairs, steering her towards the front room.

‘Who did this?’

‘Thugs.’

‘Whites?’

Waves of shame and embarrassment welled in him. He couldn’t hide it. His humiliation was complete. She stood in the kitchen and surveyed the scene. Then she came towards him and embraced him. He resisted at first, then gave in, put his head on her shoulder and cried.

‘Fucking bastards. Fucking white fascist bastards!’

She soothed him. ‘It’s okay, you’re safe now.’

He pulled back. ‘Safe? That’s about the last thing I feel.’

That he had been singled out made a mockery of all his years of trying to blend in. But she held on to him. ‘For what it’s worth, I know just how you feel, believe me.’

Her words calmed him. He felt less alone. She sat him down and made him a cup of tea. Then she sat opposite and held his hand while he sipped. He tried not to catch her eye but when he did he saw how different she looked. She had lost the reserve she had shown when they first met.

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come last night — I got waylaid.’

‘Maybe it’s just as well. You might have got caught up in this — this…’ He let out another anguished sob. ‘I hate you to see me like this.’

She smiled. ‘I saw you on the TV.’ She leaned closer. ‘You were very good. Does that mean you’ll be meeting members of the government?’

He snorted. ‘I had a breakfast meeting with the home secretary. Now look at me!’

‘No one need know. Don’t give them the satisfaction of seeing your pain. Don’t give up on what you’re doing.’

He shivered at the thought of his words about restraint and the need for perspective. ‘Well, I don’t expect you to agree with any of it.’

‘You put your points very convincingly. I believe you’re sincere.’

‘I just want to make a difference.’

‘Maybe you haven’t found the right kind of difference yet.’

‘What do you mean?’

She smiled and reached for his face. Her touch was soothing. ‘Let’s not have this discussion now.’

‘What about Karza? Do you know any more?’

She put her hands into her lap. ‘Well, we’ve made contact with the group he’s with. He is alive, that’s been confirmed.’

He felt a huge rush of relief. ‘So he’s safe?’

‘Well, no one is safe in Syria right now.’

‘Of course — stupid.’

She laughed. ‘I can see you’re new to all this.’

‘So you might be able to get him back?’

‘It’s not as simple as that. We’ve yet to make direct contact. MI6 monitor all emails and Twitter feeds now so the fighters have gone quiet. I should know more in a few days.’

Sam felt a twinge of irritation. ‘So you asked me to come up here just to tell me you might know more?’

She focused on the cut on his cheek. ‘You’re bleeding again. I’ll sort that out.’

In the bathroom she dabbed the wound with a piece of lint. Her bag seemed to contain a substantial medical kit.

‘You came well prepared.’

‘Well, I am a doctor, and I do work for a medical charity.’

She produced a small plaster, unwrapped it and applied it to his cheek. ‘I hope that’s better.’ She bit her lip and dropped her eyes, but her fingers lingered on his face. ‘There’s a favour I wanted to ask.’

‘Name it. After all you’re doing for me it’s the least I can do.’

‘It’s a big favour.’

‘Well, go on.’

‘You saw we’re closing down here. I have to come to London, but I don’t really know anyone there and I was wondering if you had a spare room where you could put me up.’ She gave a small laugh.

‘Well, I’m staying at a friend’s myself.’

She gazed at him. Her whole persona, so cool and reserved when he had first encountered her, had softened. Her eyes were wider, her lips slightly parted. Then she looked away. ‘I’m sorry, it was inappropriate…’

‘No!’ He felt a surge of pleasure at her attention. Helen suddenly seemed like a world away. ‘I’d be happy to help.’