looking for a fight.'
'I admit I have enjoyed a whiskey now and then,' Farouk confessed. 'But here we have no choice. But we do have some canned fruit juice.'
'I've got me own refreshments back in the bluddy tent, thank you,' Turpin said, settling on the camp chair while Sikes and Farouk went back to sit down on their respective bunks.
Sikes leaned forward. 'Wot d'you mean, you got good news for us, Harry?'
'Wot do I mean?' Turpin said with a wide grin. 'I'll tell you, alright. I'm a vanguard, that's wot I am, see? I'm an 'arbinger of good news. I 'ave just made arrangements to bring in surplus East German tanks from Belarus, 'ey? Right straight to this camp. Also plenty o' small-arms ammo, shells for artill'ry and mortars and the like. And this deal also includes self-propelled cannons.'
'And you're having 'em delivered here?' Sikes asked.
'Right 'ere where we are this very minute,' Turpin said. 'You lads are gonna take part in a big push. A bluddy invasion, that's wot it's gonna be.'
Sikes and Farouk looked at each other, then back to Turpin. Farouk shook his head. 'I am not understanding what you say to us, Harry. We have just pulled back from the Afghanistan border. Where on Allah's earth will we be going?'
Turpin laughed loudly. 'Right back to where you come from, mate. You and this lot are gonna be storming across the international line straight into Afghanistan. Not only are more Iranians coming 'ere, but Shiites too.'
Sikes was so astounded that he stood up. 'But Iran has just made an agreement with the Yanks to stay away from Afghanistan.'
'Well, Archie me lad, then it looks like the Yanks are in for a great big fucking surprise, ain't they?
.
MANCHESTER, ENGLAND
9 SEPTEMBER 1930 HOURS
CHARLIE and Nancy Sikes sat in their small parlor, watching TV. Neither one was paying much attention to the program, which was a sitcom involving a dysfunctional family feuding with their neighbors, who were another dysfunctional clan unable to cope with life's little problems.
Charlie and Nancy had real-life worries and saw no humor in the comic performances of the actors in the program. Their son Archibald, a soldier in the British Army, had deserted his unit in Iraq and had not been heard from for many long months.
They didn't know if he was dead or alive.
The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Sikes walked out to the hall and down to the entrance to the house. She opened door and saw two bobbies in full uniform and helmets at the simple portal. 'Good evening, madam,' one of the policemen said. 'Is Mr. Charles Sikes at home?'
Mrs. Sikes didn't answer. She turned and hollered. 'Charlie! There's a couple o' coppers asking after you.'
Mr. Sikes appeared in the hall from the parlor with a puzzled expression on his face. 'Wot can I do for you?'
'We'd like you to come down to the station, if you please, Mr. Sikes,' the spokesman said.
'Wot for?'
'A routine inquiry, sir. We must ask you to come straightaway, please.'
'I'll get me coat.' He reached over to the hooks on the wall and pulled off his jacket and an American baseball-style cap, then stepped past his wife. 'I'll be back soon. Maybe we'll learn something about Archie.'
'Alright, Charlie.'
The two policemen took him down to their car and opened the back door. Mr. Sikes settled in for the ride, with heavy suspicions that this unexpected happening would indeed have something to do with Archie. This wasn't the first time some official had come around to make inquiries. But it was the first time he had ever been taken anywhere.
When they reached the station, they went around to the back and parked. Once more Mr. Sikes was under close escort as they took him inside, going straight to a room with a small table that had one chair on one side and two on the other. The policemen took him to the single seat.
'Sit down, Mr. Sikes. Someone will be with you quite soon.'
'Right. Thanks.'
Five minutes later, two men entered. Mr. Sikes knew one of them. He had been out to the house on at least three occasions. The man's name was Falkes, and Sikes figured him for a military policeman. In actuality, he was MI-5, and the man with him was from a special unit of Scotland Yard that worked the terrorist detail.
Falkes nodded a greeting as he and the other man sat down. 'How are you, Mr. Sikes?'
'Fine, thanks,' he said, glancing at the other man. 'Who's he then?'
'This is Inspector Jenkins from Scotland Yard.'
'Are we gonna be talking about me son Archie?'
'In a roundabout way,' Jenkins interjected. He reached in his suit pocket and pulled out a pair of four-by-five photographs. 'Do you know these two men?'
Sikes studied the portraits. 'Yeah. This one here is Hasim and the other is Afsar. I don't know their last names. That is, I don't remember 'em. Them kind o' names are hard to recollect.'
'Where do you know them from?'
'They work at the same warehouse where I do,' Sikes replied. 'They're stock boys.'
Falkes asked, 'Do you see them at places other than work?'
Sikes shook his head.
'What about the pub? Have you ever gone out and had a pint or two with them?'
'They ain't the type I'd choose for friends,' Sikes said. 'I don't like Pakos or Arabs or none o' them Wog blokes. And I don't think their religion lets 'em drink beer or whiskey anyway. I wish to hell they'd all go back where they come from, that's wot I bluddy wish. Let England be England, by Gawd!'
'They're from Iraq,' Jenkins said. 'The same country where your son deserted from the Army.'
'All that trouble started when them swells in that Dragoon regiment wouldn't give Archie a commission,' Sikes said defiantly. 'He was good enough to be a sergeant, by God, and he was good enough to attend officers' training school and go to another regiment, but they said he wasn't acceptable in their precious mess, hey? Archie ain't the type to take being snubbed quiet. One thing led to another and it ended up with him taking French leave.'
'He did more than that,' Falkes said. 'He didn't just go off without permission, he left without the intention of returning.'
'Wot's that got to do with the price o' tea in China?'
Falks leaned toward him, resenting the flippant remark. 'I'll tell you what it's got to do with, Sikes. It's got to do with you and your son. We now know an Iraqi was instrumental in getting your son away from the military. And Archibald Sikes has been actively working with the terrorists in Afghanistan.'
'Now, I don't believe that for an instant,' Sikes said.
'And those two Iraqi lads are now in custody for taking part in a bombing in Leeds,' Jenkins said. 'And we know they have a contact here in the United Kingdom.
And we know he's an Englishman.'
'Well, I ain't working with no bombers!'
'We got a few questions to put to you, Sikes,' Falkes said coldly. 'And we advise you to cooperate. It'll be for your own good.'
'Bluddy shit!' Sikes exclaimed. 'I want me solicitor!'
'You've been brought in under the Antiterrorist Act, Sikes,' Jenkins said. 'And if you want some advice, here's some. You better cough up the truth when it comes to answering our questions. One slip! One rotten lie, and you're for it. Understand?'
'Oh, bluddy shit!'
'Get ready, Sikes,' Falkes said. 'It's going to be a long night.'
.
10 SEPTEMBER 1000 HOURS
