The Killing Ground

Chapter 15

AT THE DARK MAN, HARRY AND BILLY SAT IN THEIR USUAL booth, Roper beside him in his wheelchair, Joe Baxter and Sam Hall leaning against the wall and talking in low voices. Sergeant Doyle, who had brought Roper down in the People Traveller, was sitting in it outside, reading a book as usual. They all looked troubled. Harry had just swallowed a large scotch and called to Ruby, who was tending the bar with Mary O’Toole. “We’ll have another, love, me and the Major.”

“All right, Harry.” She poured the drinks. “I’ve not seen this before, the black rage. He frightens me in a way.”

“Did he know this Professor Stone well?”

“According to Billy, they worked quite closely with him when the outfit had some sort of bad time in Hazar two or three years ago.”

“Ruby, what’s keeping you?” Mary picked up the tray. “I’ll take it for you.” Harry accepted it in silence, staring into space, his face like a frozen mask. Ferguson had phoned Billy and told him that the surgeon, a Professor Vaughan at the hospital in Cambridge, unhappy with Hal Stone’s condition, was holding back on the operation.

Billy shook his head in a kind of controlled fury. “I wonder where those bastards are now?” Roper swallowed his scotch. “Well, only they would know that.” Harry seemed to come alive. “Yes, but they must have some plan. I mean, this Hussein is a clever bugger. He wouldn’t do anything without backup.”

“You’re right,” Roper said. “He wouldn’t have dared come to England without knowing there were extremist organizations who would back him to the hilt.”

“Well, we all know that,” Harry said. “Fanatics who get away with preaching terror everywhere from television to the London streets.”

Billy said, “Yeah, but there’s their human rights to consider. We know what they are but can’t do anything about it.”

“Well, I bloody well can.” Harry turned to Roper. “This guy with the funny name, Professor Dreq Khan and his Army of God thing?”

“He’s untouchable. Covers his back constantly.”

“Bloody disgraceful,” Harry said.

“It’s likely Greta speaks Arabic,” Roper said. “So she heard enough of the conversation at the hospital to know those two men at Caspar’s house were under orders from Khan to get up to no good. After things went sour, he did a quick flit to Brussels in his role as chairman of a committee involved with racial harmony. He’s just come back.”

“Then why hasn’t he been nicked?” Harry demanded.

“His work with the UN gives him diplomatic immunity. We know he’s guilty as sin, but proving it legally is another thing. Even if Ferguson descended, it would be laughed out of court, and with Khan’s UN status, he’d probably be allowed to do a runner anyway,” Roper told him.

“Well, I’m not happy about that, and I think I’d like to discuss it with him. I presume you’ve got an address?”

“The Army of God is a registered organization,” Roper told him. “It’s in the phone book.”

“I was thinking of something a little more private than that.”

Roper smiled. “I should say, are you sure you want to do this, but you know what, Harry? Khan is a very bad man. Like you, I’ve had enough.”

He called Holland Park, gave Khan’s name into the automated connection in his computer. A recorded voice gave him an answer in seconds.

“Huntley Street Apartments,” he said.

Harry started to move and Billy stood up. “This is my gig, Harry. The boys and I will get him.”

“You’ve got to think of your position, Billy.”

“As a member of Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Services? Harry, I don’t give a toss. I’m as pissed off as you two.” He turned to Hall and

Baxter. “Are you available?”

“Too bloody true we are,” Baxter told him.

Harry said, “Okay, I’ll see you on the Linda Jones, and you, Major, I think you’ve got things to attend to at Holland Park.”

“You mean I’m not up to it?”

“I just don’t want you involved.”

“He’s right,” Billy said. “Come on, boys.” Baxter and Hall followed him out to the Alfa Romeo parked by the People Traveller.

“Major Roper’s coming out,” Billy called to Doyle, behind the wheel with his book, and piled into the Alfa with Baxter and Hall and was away.

Roper emerged in the wheelchair, Harry following, and the rear door of the People Traveller came down as the lift descended at Doyle’s touch. Harry put a hand on Roper’s shoulder. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Try not to kill him,” Roper said. “Sometimes I’ve had enough of that, too. It’s been a hell of a life, Harry.”

“I know, old son. I’ll try and oblige you.”

The lift took Roper up and inside. Doyle drove away. Ruby appeared. “Everything all right, Harry?”

“Just going down to the Linda, love. I’ve got a bit of business to handle, phone calls to make. I don’t want to be disturbed, okay?”

“Just as you say, Harry.”

She went back inside and he walked slowly along the wharf.

KHAN WAS AT THE DESK of his study, working over some papers, when the buzzer sounded from the entry phone in the hall. Billy had given the matter some thought on the way. That Khan was involved in the whole affair was obvious, which meant he might have seen photos of the Salters and Dillon. So it was Baxter who held up Billy’s warrant card when he pressed the buzzer.

Khan looked at him on the entry screen. “Yes?”

“Professor Khan? Sergeant Jones, CID Paddington Green. Young Muslim lady was assaulted. A patrol car has brought her in, but her English isn’t too good. She mentioned your name. I’m really asking for assistance here.”

“I’m always happy to help the police.”

Khan pressed the button, took a few steps to the door, which burst open. Baxter moved fast and punched him in the stomach. Billy and Hall crowded in behind. An overcoat was taken down from a hall stand, his arms thrust into it, a dark trilby hat rammed on his head. Baxter and Hall walked him out to the Alfa, sat him between them in the back and Billy drove away.

HARRY WAS SITTING in the stern of the Linda Jones under an awning, light spilling out from the deck lamp into the gathering darkness, a glass of scotch in his hand, and Baxter and Hall held Khan in front of him. Billy leaned against the rail, watching.

Khan had recovered himself, but he did recognize Salter and was genuinely terrified, yet he tried bluster, “What’s going on here?”

“I’m Harry Salter, you are Dreq Khan. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you don’t answer me, I’ll kill you and we’ll throw you in the river.”

Khan felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. “What is it you want?”

“Hussein Rashid and his chum Khazid, we know they were on their way to England. I’d like your confirmation that they’ve arrived.”

“What nonsense is this?”

“Don’t mess me around. A good friend of mine in Cambridge, Professor Hal Stone, just back from Hazar after helping Dillon and my Billy here to bring Sara Rashid home, was shot twice today in his garden and left for dead. We figure it must have been Hussein and Khazid. What do you think?”

“I’ve no idea what you are talking about,” Khan said desperately.

“He’s wasting our time, Billy. Try the hoist.”

Baxter and Hall pulled off Khan’s overcoat and jacket, forced him down and Billy reached for the hemp line suspended from the hoist and looped it round the ankles. Baxter and Hall heaved on the rope and pulled Khan up, head down.

“Simple question,” Billy said in his ear. “Are they in England and have you heard from them?”

They swung him over and dropped him in the Thames. He went under, crying out. As his hands were untied, he managed to move his arms about. When he stopped struggling, Harry nodded and they pulled him up. He floundered on the deck, coughing and spluttering, and there was nothing left in him.

Harry said, “Let me make it quite clear. If we have to put you over again, we leave the river to take you away.”

“No, for pity’s sake.” Khan sat up, reaching for a rail. “They are here. I had nothing to do with it. It was handled by the Broker, Osama’s man, and don’t ask for his phone number. He contacts you when he wants. You never contact him because you can’t. Hussein and Khazid came in a boat by night from France to England. His phone call was a total surprise to me. Hussein said he was at a cottage called Folly Way at Peel Strand in Dorset. He didn’t mention the name of the person he was staying with, I swear it.”

“Go on.”

“I tell you the truth when I admit that the Army of God has a network of spies who are just small people. I had the Rashids’ house watched and one of my men reported they had left the house. He followed them to Farley Field where they flew away to an unknown destination.”

“Was Hussein angry when you told him that?”

“Yes. He said we had to find out where the Rashid family had been taken. I told him that was an impossibility for us.”

“And then what?”

Khan lied desperately. “He said there was one person he could visit because the Broker had mentioned that Professor Stone, who had been part of the whole affair in Hazar, was Ferguson’s cousin. Hussein said they would pay him a visit in Cambridge.” There was a pause while

Harry considered the matter.

Billy said, “Bleeding liar.”

Harry shook his head. “The fact that Hussein has no idea where the Rashids are must be true, otherwise why bother to go to Cambridge? His assumption that Hal Stone would know something makes sense.”

He got up, went into the salon and poured scotch. Billy followed and closed the door. “So you believe the bastard?”

Harry said, “Remember what Hal said? That they were here, both of them, the other one shot me, and I didn’t tell them about Zion.”

“That’s right,” Billy said. “Ferguson admitted he’d told Stone about Zion.”

“The reason they tracked Stone down was because they had no idea the Rashids had gone. They must have told him that was the purpose of the visit. His saying he hadn’t told them about Zion confirms they’ve still no idea where the Rashids are.”

“And Stone probably made a run for it and got the two bullets in the back,” Billy said. “So what about this asshole outside? Do we finish him?”

Harry opened the door and stepped out. Baxter and Hall had seated Khan in a chair. He looked as if he’d come to the end of his tether.

“What’s your idea on where Hussein would be now?”

“I don’t know,” Khan said wearily.“He’s a crazy man. With his photo all over the newspapers, it was his madness coming to England in the first place.”

“That’s the strangest part of the whole deal,” Billy said. “He should have been lifted within hours of arrival.”

And Khan suddenly remembered the phone conversation with Hussein and came out with the one special piece of information. “When he was talking to me from Peel Strand and mentioned going to Cambridge, I told him that he’d have to change trains in London and wasn’t that unwise because his face was in so many papers.”

“And what did he say?” Harry demanded.

“That it had been taken care of and that no one would recognize him. He said, ‘Trust me in this.’ Nothing more.”

Billy said, “Rubbish, he couldn’t have had time for plastic surgery.”

“Well, as he hasn’t been lifted, something must have happened to him.” Harry turned to Khan. “Mr. Baxter and Mr. Hall are going to take you home where you’ll get a change of clothes, money, credit cards, passport-whatever. They will then escort you to Heathrow and see you leave on the first available plane.”

Khan was stupefied. “You mean you’re not going to kill me?”

“Not now, but if you ever return to England, I’ll know, and you’ll be dead inside a week. Get him out of here, boys.”

Khan was for the moment stunned. They got his jacket and overcoat on and marched him along the wharf and it was then that he found he was experiencing the greatest feeling of relief in his life. There was also a certain satisfaction in the fact that by crediting the Broker for guiding Hussein to Hal Stone at Cambridge, he’d been able to let Ali Hassim off the hook.

Back on the boat, Billy said, “Have you turned into a big softy or something?”

“Roper asked me to go easy on him. Anyway, we’ve managed to establish without doubt that Hussein has no idea where the Rashids are, so let’s go and see Roper.”

ROPER LISTENED to what they had to say. Harry said, “You think I did the right thing? Will he stay away?”

“The question is, will the people in the larger world he’s been involved with allow him to? We’ve known for a long time about the al-Qaeda influence on the Army of God. What Osama will think of a man who’s done a runner is anyone’s guess. The Broker won’t be too happy, either. These important men in the world of terror obviously don’t like any indication that things are falling apart.”

“I don’t give a toss about Osama and his people,” Harry said. “We’ve got to stand up and be counted.”

“I agree, but al-Qaeda leaders in Iraq would dearly love to have another spectacular in Britain. Big Ben would be good, or Buckingham Palace? The possibilities are endless.”

“That would really be out of order,” Harry said.

Billy put in, “They’d be happy if the Queen was at home when they did it.”

“Bastards,” Harry said.

“I could show you intelligence reports indicating that at least a couple of hundred Britons have served in al-Qaeda’s foreign legion in Iraq. These are the things the public doesn’t know about. And it’s not just regular bombs they’d like to set off, but dirty bombs.”

“Several plots involving such weapons in the UK have already been foiled,” Roper noted. “We’re at war and that’s the fact of it.”

There was a pause and Billy said, “Which leaves us with Hussein. What are his intentions?”

“He’s never been a bomb man,” Roper said. “My bet is assassination.”

“You mean on the level of the Prime Minister or someone at that level?” Harry asked.

“Let’s look at it this way. His intentions regarding the Rashids have been thwarted, at least for now, so he’s got to find something to do. And he’s changed his appearance in some way-Khan told us that. It was worth dumping Khan in the Thames to learn it.”

His phone went. It was Ferguson, and Roper put it on speaker. “How are things?”

“He’s out of surgery. Professor Vaughan says it was bad and it will take time, but he’s going to weather the storm.”

Harry and Billy cheered and Roper said, “Have you managed to speak to him?”

“Just a few sentences. Apparently it was Khazid who held him at gunpoint and wanted to know where the Rashids were. Hal refused to say, made a run for it to the door in the garden, Khazid shot him in the back as he pulled the bolt. He lost it then, was vaguely aware of another person rushing through but didn’t see him.”

“A pity,” Roper told him. “Harry put the screws on Khan earlier this evening. Rather interesting.” He told of Harry’s exploit with Khan and the results.

Ferguson said, “Christ Almighty, so we no longer know what the bastard looks like?”

“Or his intentions or where he is now. The only thing we can be certain of is that he doesn’t know where the Rashids are,” Roper said.

“And thank God for it.”

“We do know one thing,” Roper told him. “When he made that original phone call to Khan, he said he and Khazid had landed by boat and were with one of the Broker’s people at Peel Strand in Dorset, a cottage called Folly Way.”

“Right, I’ll contact the chief constable of the Dorset constabulary now. Anything else?”

“The Rashids at Zion. They need to be informed of the attempt on Hal Stone’s life.”

“It will frighten Molly Rashid to death. They can’t be reached, that’s the important thing, so we can leave it for the moment.”

“And the others?”

“I’ll speak to Levin. I think he, Chomsky and Greta deserve to know. We’ll make a decision later on whether I should fly down tomorrow. I’d prefer to tell the Rashids personally. Dillon and I will leave in the helicopter in thirty minutes. See you soon.”

IN THE BACK ROOM of the shop, Hussein and Khazid sat at the dining table with Bolton and went over the details again and again. They’d also had a CD prepared for them by the laptop man, covering every possible aspect of the village and the house, even a list of useful bird names. Khazid had found that amusing. “The most intelligent birds are crows. They can communicate with each other and count. Does that establish my credentials?”

Bolton said, “Just be yourself, as I did, and look the part.” He turned to Ali. “I’ll go now and purchase the same garments, boots and so on that I used. What about a vehicle?”

“Taken care of by a member of the Brotherhood in the motor trade. It’s a Caravanette, with a bunk on either side in the rear and cooking facilities. A family sort of thing, popular with campers. He will also supply some tools that with luck should meet all our requirements. It will be delivered to us in a little while.”

As Bolton stood up, Hussein said, “One thing I must ask. You mentioned from the edge of the wood being able to look over the wall into the garden itself and the rear of the house, a terrace and so on. Did you see anyone?”

“No, the weather was poor, heavy rain, and my binoculars were nothing special.”

Hussein looked at Ali. “May he remedy that and find me a pair of exceptional Zeiss glasses with top magnification?”

“Of course,” Ali said, and nodded to Bolton. “You know who to call.”

“I’ll take care of it.” Bolton glanced at Hussein. “A privilege to serve.”

He went out, and Hussein said, “A good man.”

“One of the best. Can I do anything else at the moment?”

“I think not. If Khan phones, simply say I haven’t been in touch with you and you have no idea where I am.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’ll deal with the Broker.”

“As you wish.” He got up to go and there was a knock on the door. He opened it and the girl assistant passed him the Evening Standard. The stop press had a brief report that the police were pursuing inquiries into the shooting of Cambridge professor Hal Stone, who was doing as well as could be expected after successful surgery.

“Perhaps you should read this.” He put it on the table without a word and went out.

Khazid read it first and exploded. “You said there was no pulse! You should have let me finish him!”

“Things happen,” Hussein told him.

“Sooner or later, he’ll be able to talk.”

“So what? He can’t report on my new persona because he didn’t see me, which is one good thing. Another is that Ferguson has no idea we know about Zion. This will work, cousin, I feel it. Our astonishing good luck with Selim Bolton finding a way in, for example, can only be looked upon as the will of Allah himself.”

“Be practical, cousin. We don’t even know if our simple tools will move that manhole. We don’t know what’s down there if we can remove it, and what about the other end? It could be under six feet of earth, a garden rockery, anything.”

“A reconnaissance then,” Hussein said. “And how many times have we had to do that in the last two years of the war, cousin, and succeeded in our purpose?”

“But what is our objective? Let’s say we can force a way through this tunnel into the garden. Do we sit in a shrubbery, waiting for Sara to come out to play, and if so, what do you do, shoot her?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Okay, so you hope she’s alone, knock her out, fling her over your shoulder, drag her through the tunnel and drive away.” Hussein sat there staring at him, and Khazid said, “Of course, if anyone was with her, we’d have to shoot them. Even if it was her parents.”

Hussein’s face was somber. “I gave Sara’s grandfather my most solemn oath before Allah to protect her, honor her in every way. I failed miserably in all respects. Death followed at every turn, our comrades died at the hands of Dillon and Salter, my uncle-struck down with the shame of it-was dead before his true time. You are right in everything you say. I do not know what to do or even to say if I should look upon her face again. Allah was the one who chose this path for me.”

“I think the truth is you never even knew where everything was leading from the beginning.” Khazid got up. “If we had only pursued our worthwhile targets, Ferguson and the others, there would have been some point, but now…”

“There will be a purpose to everything and Allah will show what it is. I must go to Zion, I have no choice.”

“And neither do I.” Khazid sighed. “I finally accept that for the past two years as a soldier in the war in Iraq, I’ve been commanded by a raving lunatic. All of a sudden, I don’t find any comfort in the idea that I’m in the hands of Allah.”

“So you will desert me?” Hussein sat there, his face bleak. “So this is what it’s come to?”

Khazid managed a smile. “Now, do I look like that kind of fella, cousin? No, I’ll go down to hell with you if that’s what you want.”

Ali returned. “So, now we wait. I have arranged for Jamal to drive up to the public car park at Farley Field in a Telecom van. He’ll wait there and observe, just in case the Hawk plane gets some use. He is familiar with most of Ferguson’s crowd and will phone me the moment he has something and I’ll contact you.”

“Good idea,” Khazid told him, and Hussein’s special mobile sounded.

“It’s me,” the Broker said. “Cambridge didn’t go well, I hear.”

“It was unfortunate and led nowhere. We have no idea where Ferguson has the Rashids.”

“Forget the girl,” the Broker said. “Turn to more worthy targets. Have you been in touch with Khan?”

“No.”

“Strange, I get no response from him however I try.”

“I can’t help you.”

“Where are you?”

“A safe house. That is all I can tell you. Good-bye.” Hussein looked at Ali and Khazid. “So much for the Broker. Can we have some coffee?”

IN THE LIBRARY AT ZION, the Russians sat having a drink in the corner, trying to absorb the bad news about Hal Stone. Caspar and Molly were watching a film in the television room, and Sara was playing patience.

Levin said, “What an absolute bastard.”

“Two in the back.” Chomsky shook his head. “A hard thing to cope with, even with a great surgeon.”

“Sara looks lonely,” Greta said. “I’ll go and chat with her.”

She sat down on the other side of the table. “How’s it going?”

“A bore, really. How’s Professor Stone?”

Greta was shocked. “How on earth do you know?”

“It’s my guilty secret. I’ve got really good hearing. I can hear people speaking two rooms away, I can hear the conversation in a cell phone in your hand across the table without putting it to my ear. At my school, the girls called me Gestapo Bitch, because with me, they had no privacy. Anyway, Professor Stone. At least he’s come through surgery.”

“That’s true.”

“And it was Khazid who shot him.” It was a statement and not aquery.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Where do you think Hussein and Khazid are now?”

“We’ve no idea, but we do know for certain that they don’t know that you and your parents are here.”

“Really? The Hammer of God seems to be slipping, and that would be a first. Speaking of telephones, by the way, my mother must have had another mobile. I’ve heard her phoning Dr. Samson at the hospital about the Bedford child several times.” She shook her head. “Very silly.”

Greta said gravely, “I’ll have to let Ferguson know.”

“Of course.” Sara got up. “I’m for bed. I’m not going to tell them. I leave that decision to you.”

She went out and Greta moved back to the others and told them. Levin called Ferguson at once, caught him with Roper at Holland Park and gave him the bad news.

“What a stupid thing to do,” Ferguson said, “But don’t say anything to her. I’ll handle it myself. I’ll fly down in the morning with Dillon and Billy. More bad news. That address in Dorset at Peel Strand, cottage called Folly Way? The Dorset police checked it out. Found the owner, one Darcus Wellington, shot dead.”

“Good God,” Levin said.

“Good God indeed. They’ve traced his car to Bournemouth railway station from where they’ve obviously caught a fast train to London. Our boys have been busy. You see, Igor, it all starts to fit.”

AT HOLLAND PARK, Ferguson sat in the computer room with Billy and Dillon. Roper had his scotch in his hand.

“Well, here’s to Dr. Molly Rashid, great surgeon and humanitarian.”

“The trouble is her work’s the most important thing in her life,” Dillon said. “It’s so important it sweeps everything else aside.”

“What on earth are you implying?” Ferguson demanded of Roper.

“That if I was, for example, al-Qaeda, I’d let the word go out to sympathizers that any news of even the briefest contact with Dr. Molly Rashid and where she was would be welcome.”

“Stop it, Major,” Ferguson said “Bloody nonsense. But we’ll fly down from Farley at nine sharp.”

THE CARAVANETTE WAS PACKED with everything they needed, and Ali, Hussein and Khazid sat in the back of the shop for a little while in silence.

After a while, Hussein said, “Bed, I think. We’ll depart at six A.M. With three hours on the road, we’ll reach there about nine.”

“It should have been a weekend,” Khazid said. “More bird-watchers.”

“The fewer the better,” Hussein told him and stood up. “You will wake us, my friend?” he asked Ali.

Khazid said, “I had a good friend called Hassim. They killed him in Hazar, Dillon and Salter. Could he have been kin to you?”

“I think not. May he rest in peace.”

Hussein went upstairs, Khazid following. Ali had given them a small bedroom each. They stood on the landing, looking at each other, then parted without a word.

Khazid put his flight bag on the bed, took out his silenced Walther, the clips, the Uzi machine pistol with its spare magazine. He doubled them up with Scotch tape so that he could reverse load when under stress. Everything was ready, including the hand grenade he’d slipped in without telling Hussein. He lay on the bed, closed his eyes and went to sleep quickly.

Next door Hussein checked and loaded his Walther, put it back in his flight bag, lay on the bed and said his prayers, as he had done since childhood. He closed his eyes. He was in the hands of Allah now. He had never been more certain of anything in his life.