she thought was due more to momentum than any residual balance.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Herrick left the terrace and went upstairs, trying Harland several times on the way, but his phone was either switched off or out of range. Once in her room she spread the contents of the plastic bag on the bed, and after trying various combinations, opted for jeans, red T-shirt and knitted shawl around her shoulders. She tied her hair back, put on some lipstick and blueish eyeshadow, then slipped along the corridor to the fire exit. Outside in the boulevard she merged with the volta, which was still in full flood, but quickly dumped the shawl behind a bush because she suddenly felt it made her look like a street walker. She was glad she’d chosen to wear her trainers instead of the fringed boots.
As she made her way across the broken pavement in badly lit side-streets, she realised that a woman equipped herself with one of two attitudes on the street in Tirana – a kind of brassy hauteur, or beaten-down, famished servitude. The former implied that you had protection, which was everything in a town full of northern immigrants who had brought with them the ancient clan code Kanun of Lek Dukagjin which she had been reading about that morning. The dishonouring of a woman associated with a powerful man – the very smallest slight – could result in death and endless vendetta. So she strutted her stuff until she reached the SHISK compound, where she became more discreet and circled the place, noting the infra-red camera and the number of cars parked in the street leading to the headquarters. In the back of her mind was her father’s advice about getting to know somewhere before attempting any kind of surveillance, and she had to admit she was woefully unprepared. If Khan was suddenly moved, she would have no way of following. The area was several degrees more sinister at night. There was no street lighting and the little light that came from the headquarters and the bar directly across the road only served to hint at what lay in the shadows. She was aware of people watching her from the darker recesses where they’d put up for the night. When one of the city’s regular blackouts came, casting the neighbourhood into total darkness, she fumbled in the canvas bag for her mobile and called Bashkin, knowing that he would still be loitering hopefully outside the main entrance of the Byron. He agreed to meet her outside a newly renovated Catholic church a couple of streets away and flash his lights twice. She hung up and was about to switch off her phone when it vibrated in her hand.
‘Yes,’ she said hurriedly.
‘It’s Dolph – Andy Dolph!’
‘Can’t talk now, Dolph. I’m really busy.’
‘Okay. Quickly then, you’ve got a message from Beirut. Your friend has news for you. She said you’d need to know straight away.’
For a moment Herrick couldn’t think what he was talking about. ‘Oh yes. Where are you?’
‘At your old desk to fill in for you. I’m sitting next to sweetie Lyne. You didn’t tell me about him, Isis.’
‘But he is sharp.’
‘Oh yeah, he’s good, but re-lent-less.’
‘Look, I’ve got to go. We’ll speak soon. And, Dolph – thanks for ringing.’
‘Be safe.’
About ten minutes later, just as the lights came back on, a pair of identical white Landcruisers with US diplomatic plates appeared in the street, crashed over the potholes and pulled up to wait for the compound gates to open. Herrick turned on her phone and dialled Harland. This time he answered.
‘There seems to be some movement and Gibbons mentioned he was going to the Valley of Fires, wherever that is. The people from the US Embassy are here. Two cars. Maybe something is happening.’
Harland thought for a moment. ‘Have you got transport?’
‘Yes, but I don’t know how reliable he’s going to be.’ She gave him Bashkin’s mobile number because her battery was low, then hung up and made her way to the Mercedes where Bashkin was sunk down in the driving seat, smoking. She tapped on the window and he let her in. ‘What we do now?’ he asked.
‘We wait,’ she said. ‘We wait, Mr Bashkin.’ To pass the time she told him about her father coming to Albania in the war and fighting with the partisans.
Inside the SHISK headquarters, Karim Khan heard the sound of several men walking along the corridor between the cells. One of the prisoners had suffered some kind of convulsion earlier and despite cries of help from the other men no one had come until it was too late. At least, that is what Khan concluded from the wailing in a language he could not understand. He wondered wretchedly what they would do with the body and whether the man’s relations would be told.
For a few moments the lights were thrown on and there was the sound of men moving something. But instead of the footsteps dying, they approached his cell and keys were turned in the lock. Two men came in and dragged him from the iron bed. Another pulled his arms roughly behind his back and bound them with a plastic restraint. He was marched along the cell block, fearful eyes watching him from the cages nearest the door, and taken outside into the night where he was hooded and rolled into the back of a vehicle. Now he’d better make his peace with God, he said to himself. There had been many nights before now when he’d known he would never see daylight, but the dawn had always come and Karim Khan had somehow survived. But tonight he was certain that his life would end, and the knowledge brought him an odd solace. For him the struggle was over.
They watched as the gates were shut and then opened again. Herrick had been urging Bashkin to take the handbrake off and allow the Mercedes to creep forward but he insisted on keeping his distance. The SHISK were people you didn’t mess with, he said. The mere fact of watching the headquarters was enough to land him in jail. When they glimpsed the figure being brought outside she leaned forward to the dashboard, wishing she had a pair of binoculars. The build of the man was about right and he was wearing a blue T-shirt, as Khan had been, but she didn’t get a clear view of his face before he disappeared behind the vehicles. Seconds later the cars emerged from the compound and moved off down the street.
‘We have to follow them,’ said Herrick, stabbing at her phone to call Harland.
Bashkin shook his head. ‘It’s no possible.’
‘Of course it’s bloody well possible. How much do you want?’
‘For this?’ He looked extremely doubtful, as if no amount of money would compensate for the risk he was about to take. ‘Two hundred dollars.’
‘Done,’ she said.
Unable to hide his astonishment, Bashkin started the car.
Herrick put the phone to her ear. Harland had already answered. ‘There are two cars,’ she said. ‘I’m ninety per cent certain that they’re moving Khan. I’ll follow them. They’re going towards Skenderbeg Square.’
‘I’ll join you. Keep in touch.’
They followed the cars for about five miles to the western fringes of the city. The evening was still warm and a lot of people were milling on the side of the road, buying water-melons and cold drinks from fridges hooked up to the public power supply. Bashkin slowed down several times, once for a dog-fight that spilled into both lanes of traffic and then for a broken-down truck. As a result, they lost the two Landcruisers, and when they eventually cleared Tirana’s chaotic outskirts and hit the dual carriageway to Durres she shouted for him to put his foot down. For once Bashkin did as he was told.
They shot past the new Coca-Cola plant and a detergent factory, both incongruously neat and well-lit, like giant pieces of Toytown, then realised they must have missed the Landcruisers on the turning to Kruje a few miles back. They turned round and took a much smaller road. It passed through several villages and began to climb into a forest of low pines. Bashkin explained that this had once been Enver Hoxha’s private hunting ground and was now the place where they made charcoal. There were fires up here that burned night and day, he said. She asked to borrow his mobile, and after haggling over the price for a call, she phoned Harland for the final time and told him she had found the Valleys of Fire. This was where they must have brought Karim Khan, for what purpose she could not say. Harland seemed oddly unimpressed, but said he was on his way.
After rounding several more bends they came to a head-land overlooking a bowl in the landscape. Along the
