you didn’t give a shit about medicine. Screwing around and drinking, yes. Medicine, no. We checked with them. Your attendance record was terrible and you never turned in your term papers.’
Khan shook his head. ‘I was a silly, misguided young man. I know that. But I have committed no crime.’
Franc looked at the two SHISK agents to see if they minded him continuing. One made an exaggerated flourish with his hand, as though to say ‘be my guest’. Franc approached him and knelt down by the table so he was looking up into Khan’s face.
‘You see, Karim – or whatever the fuck your name is – you’ve had it good so far. Regular meals, a bed, treatment for your injuries. That’s like three star service here. But it can all change. We can just leave you to these people. I guess you know what that means.’ He turned and glanced at The Doctor over his shoulder and smiled with his harsh, grey eyes boring into Khan’s face. ‘This man is a real doctor. Like any real doctor he cures people and saves them,’ he paused. ‘That is, after he has hurt them so much that they want to die. But he doesn’t let that happen. Oh, no. You see, he preserves the life of his subjects and then starts over with the pain. With your medical training, maybe you have an idea of what he can do. It’s not just scalpels, draining the blood from your body; it’s not electricity, or beating, or drowning. No, The Doctor is very scientific. He does things from the inside as well as the outside. He feeds you drugs, acid and every goddam shit you can imagine. The pain is total, you understand that, Khan. Total. He takes you to another place, a place that no man alive can imagine, because it’s so terrifying, so relentless. He can keep you in that state for years. Imagine that, Khan. He’s had a lot of practice because he worked for Saddam Hussein. He had so many people to experiment with there that he became the best in the business. No one has ever failed to tell him what he wants to hear.’ He got up and raised his voice. ‘And you know what, you little prick sonofabitch? We’ve got you an appointment with The Doctor. His time is booked for you, baby, and he’s willing to start work whenever we give the word. So you better cooperate and answer our questions.’
Khan stared at the table and composed himself. ‘I’ve told you everything I know,’ he said. ‘I have committed no crime. I fought a war as a foreign soldier in a foreign land, much like your people did in Vietnam. We both found we’d made a bad mistake and I wish to repay my debt to humanity.’
‘You’re a terrorist. That’s the difference, buddy.’ Franc went over to his chair, picked up a folder and returned to the table. ‘Now you know about The Doctor, let’s see what you say about this.’ He withdrew the two remaining postcards of the Empire State. ‘Can you explain these cards, which were found in your possession?’
‘Yes, they were given to me by a friend a long time ago to remind me to keep in touch. That’s why he addressed them to himself.’
‘Yes, Dr Sammi Loz. You studied together in London and then went to Bosnia, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why the Empire State? What’s the significance?’
‘My friend had a love of the building, an obsession with it, you might say. He said he would always work from the Empire State because of its spirit. He said it was a lucky building. He can tell you this. I’m certain he’s still there.’
Franc gave him a sardonic smile. ‘We were going to ask Dr Loz, but he went missing when federal agents approached him four days ago. He is currently being sought in the United States. When we find him we will of course ask him, but at the present time we’re going to have to rely on you.’ While Franc paused to consult some photostats, Khan absorbed the news that Sammi was a suspect too.
‘These postcards are written in code, aren’t they? Our analysis has shown they may include an attack date and target information.’ He placed five photostats on the table. ‘I want you to read them for us and explain the code.’
‘I can read them, but there’s no code.’ He shook his head and looked down at the surface of the table, then picked up the photostats and read the first one. ‘Greetings, my old friend. I am in Pakistan and hope very soon to be in London. I may need a little help from you. I have good news. I am returning to complete my medical studies, as you always said I should. With warmest wishes, Khan.’ He stopped. ‘That is all there is – there’s no message.’
‘You sent that from Quetta, Pakistan, where you got the passport doctored. Is that when you received your instructions? From the same people who gave you the name of the man who did the work on your documents?’
‘No, I did everything I could to avoid those people in Quetta. My family told me the ISI were looking for me. I had to be very discreet.’
‘So you managed to find the man who does work for al-Qaeda by yourself?’
‘I didn’t know he worked for them.’
‘Continue,’ said Franc.
He read the postcards and, when he had finished, slammed his hand on the table with frustration. ‘These mean nothing, I tell you. Nothing.’
Unmoved, Franc produced a second set of copies and put one in front of him. In the first postcard sent from Quetta, Khan saw that the capital letters were ringed in red:
Gr E etings, M y old friend. I am in P ak I stan and hope ve R y soon to be in London. I may ne E d a little help from you. I have good news. I am returning to complete my stu DIES, as you always said I should.
Karim looked up at him, mystified.
‘Let me remind you about this,’ said Franc. ‘All the letters you made into capitals spell EMPIRE DIES.’ He ran his finger along the message, stopping at each capital letter.
Khan shook his head incredulously. ‘This is stupid. It is like a school kid’s code. You think I wrote this to my friend? Honestly?’
‘But you did. Take a look at the first one you sent from Iran. It’s a little more complicated.’
He placed a grid of letters alongside a phrase from the postcard, which read, ‘I want to hide in Lundun for all time. KariM.’
‘This is the way you concluded your postcard from Iran. It’s certainly an odd phrase, especially when you compare it to the rest of the postcard, which reads pretty naturally and is correctly spelt. So our analysts had a look at it and they came up with this.’ He indicated the grid.
‘What you wrote was a near anagram of a well-known Hadith, a saying of the prophet – ‘Al kufr milatun wahidun’ – meaning unbelief is one nation. It’s a call to arms against the unbelievers.’
Khan stared at the letters. ‘I don’t understand.’
The American took a pencil and ticked off the letters that appeared in the Arabic phrase.
‘But it doesn’t work. There are too many letters in my postcard.’
‘It’s near enough. Why would anyone spell London like that? And again you use capital letters where they don’t belong – the M in Karim is a capital. We’re working on the next two cards but we think this is enough to put you and your friend Dr Loz in jail.’ He paused. ‘Unbelief is one nation. You people! What kind of shit fills your minds?’
‘This is crazy.’
‘All you have to do is tell me where the target information is hidden. I want the date and time of the attack and the names of your associates. What does the Empire State building have to do with all this? Is that your target? We need answers, Khan.’ He was shouting now.
‘There isn’t a plot. I am innocent. I wasn’t used to writing English – writing anything. The capital letters are a mistake and the codes you’ve found are coincidence. They don’t exist.’ He was sweating profusely, his throat parched with fear, and he had to hold his hands under the table to stop them shaking.
‘Yeah, like the other coincidences in your story. Right now, we’re all a little tired of listening to your crap so we’re gonna leave you for a couple of hours with The Doctor. When we come back, we want answers.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
At two, Herrick walked from the pool with a bitter taste in her mouth, the result of inhaling Tirana’s polluted air for most of the morning. She walked through the lobby to the elevator bank and pulled out a card which acted as both a lift and room key.
