bombardment. Thousands of people died in the siege.’
She nodded. She had the exact figure in her head – 10,500.
‘How did you end up on the frontline?’
‘It just happened. Sammi met someone who said they needed ammunition at the front. A big attack was expected. They asked us to help carry the boxes.’
‘And…’
‘There was an attack going on as we arrived. Many of our men were being killed and they were over-running our lines. We picked up the guns of the dead and started firing. It was as simple as that.’
‘As simple as that – from doctors to fighters in a few seconds?’
‘Yes,’ said Khan. ‘ But we still helped out as medics. We did both.’
Loz nodded approvingly.
‘When did the incident take place when Sammi was injured?’ Herrick said, raising her hand to stop Loz answering.
‘Sometime in the winter of that year,’ Khan replied.
‘Of 1993?’
‘Yes.’
‘Where were you treated?’ she asked Loz.
Loz replied that he was taken first to a hospital in Sarajevo and then to Germany. He recovered in London.
‘Which hospital in London?’
A private one.
‘Which?’
‘King Edward’s – this was for the skin grafts. They didn’t do a very good job in Sarajevo.’
‘But you, Karim, stayed on, for nearly two years. Why?’
‘I was committed. I couldn’t understand why Islam did not declare a proper jihad against the Serbs. To leave those people when they had so little help, no heavy guns, no fresh troops, would have been desertion.’
‘So you were moved by very much the same emotions as The Poet. You were both men of peace who were turned into soldiers by the extreme conditions in Sarajevo. Tell me exactly where you met him.’
‘On the front. He was just an ordinary soldier like me then.’
‘Was that in the lines to the north of the city?’
He looked surprised. ‘Yes – north-east actually.’
‘Near where Sammi was wounded?’ she said quickly.
‘Exactly there. It was during that period.’
‘At the same time?’
‘No…’
Loz got up and said, ‘Karim, I think I need to change the position of your legs. The way you have them will do no good to your hip. I’ve told you about this before.’ His tone was gently admonishing.
Herrick sat back as though she hadn’t noticed the diversion. ‘So you came across The Poet before Sammi was wounded?’ she said.
‘I don’t remember now,’ he said. He winced as Loz moved him.
‘Maybe another painkiller,’ said Loz, reaching for the table.
Khan shook his head. ‘I’m okay.’
She waited.
‘Yes it was sometime about then… before or after, I’m not sure.’
‘But it is perfectly possible that Sammi met The Poet during that time.’ She paused and looked at Loz. ‘Did you?’
‘Yes,’ said Loz, looking unsettled. ‘I told you that we met him but I can’t remember exactly when.’ He got up again and started fussing over Khan’s feet.
‘I’m sorry, this is not going to work,’ said Herrick. ‘I think I’d prefer to talk to Karim alone.’ Foyzi moved from the top of the bed and steered Loz from the room.
She smiled at Khan reassuringly. ‘Sammi has told me about the brave way you saved him. I must say it’s an extraordinary story. Was The Poet there to witness that?’
He shrugged helplessly.
‘Let’s say he was,’ she said. ‘What date was that – roughly?’
‘It was winter – November 1993. I think.’
‘Not after Christmas?’
‘No, definitely not.’
‘I just wanted to make sure, because we’re looking for pictures taken by an English photographer at that time.’
Khan absorbed this.
‘In fact, it would be helpful if you could identify as many people as you can when I eventually get the picture.’
Khan grimaced.
‘I’m sorry. You’re in pain.’
‘Yes, my feet hurt a little.’ He stopped. ‘Maybe Sammi could help with the pictures?’
‘That’s a good idea.’
Gradually she returned to the subject of the winter of 1993-94. She made notes, taking particular care over places, dates, weather conditions and names. Khan’s memory was hazy, and it didn’t work in a linear fashion, so building a chronology was difficult. He relived the terror of that winter in epic flashes – the din of bombardment from all directions; the incursions of the Serbs into the streets of Sarajevo, the danger from snipers and the hunger and cold. It was in the account of this time that he made several mistakes. She made a note of them, but her smile did not fade as he stumbled between what actually happened and what Loz had prepared him to say.
The air was oppressively heavy and with each blink his eyes stayed closed for seconds at a time. She rose and left the room, at which Loz returned with a slightly exaggerated look of concern.
She returned at four, sat down and placed the recorder in its usual position. Loz had straightened Khan on the bed and was holding his legs just above the ankle bone with his thumbs and forefingers. The rest of his fingers were splayed out so that they didn’t touch the bruised flesh below the ankles. Then he lifted the legs, almost as if comparing their weight, and tugged each one gently. He moved to the knees and thighs with a gentle stroking motion, pulled up the shift and covered Khan’s groin with a cloth.
She made to leave.
‘Stay, I’ve already examined him there.’
His hands moved to the hips and he again seemed to weigh Khan’s body. Then he went round to the side and slipped both hands under his back, working his fingers into place while looking away to the corner of the room. Herrick was struck by the concentration in his face.
‘You see,’ he said after a little while, ‘by hanging him from the ceiling they stretched his body so everything went out of line. Apart from the damage this did to the muscles and ligaments, there are various skeletal problems. These will take longer to heal.’
‘Have you treated this kind of injury before?’
‘Yes, a young man – a New York cab driver from Cameroon. He had been tortured very badly three years before I saw him. The damage was hidden for most of the time, but came out at moments of stress. The man was mystified because the spasms seemed to be unconnected with the method of torture.’ He paused. ‘The body does not forget, you see.’
There were periods of inactivity over the next half-hour during which Loz’s slender hands simply rested on Khan’s chest, under his neck or at the back of his cranium. At other moments they became animated, brushing and pressing the skin and then once or twice flicking it with a screwing motion of the finger knuckles. The way he moved around Khan’s bed was so precise and fluent that it had an almost hypnotic effect on her. When he had finished, it was clear Khan was having difficulty in keeping his eyes open.
Loz shook his head apologetically.
