'They believe that Westerners no longer have the necessary endurance for duty. They attribute it to a decadent culture in which love, money, family – all the things that a Westerner would betray for – now have greater value than political, patriotic, religious and moral beliefs. The Westerner has become a victim of the importance of self in their minds. And so they wanted to see where on my integral scale did my son and lover appear, compared to what they consider to be more manly beliefs.'
'Were there any surprises?' said Falcon.
'They've forced me to think,' said Yacoub. 'It's been humiliating and exhilarating.'
The food arrived. The waiter set down the plate of squid, some chips and salad, bread and a glass of beer.
'You're looking stricken, Javier,' said Yacoub. 'Is what I'm saying bothering you?'
'If we've gone soft and, as you say, lost sight of our beliefs, why are you fighting for us? What are you fighting for?'
'That's a good question. Any soldier needs to know what he's fighting for,' said Yacoub. 'Before I went into this, I thought I knew. It's only having been on the inside, by concentrating on what I'm fighting against, that I've understood. And it's not Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden. They're like phantoms now. But is it what Bush tried to replace those ogres with: that ultimate Western ideology? So while I watched young men blowing themselves up, killing their fellow Muslims because of an intense religious belief, I asked myself: Am I fighting for freedom and democracy?'
'Isn't that part of it?'
'You know who soldiers fight for?' said Yacoub. 'Each other. The guys in their platoon. They don't crawl out to a wounded comrade for democracy. They don't mount an assault on an enemy position because of freedom of speech.'
'And you?' asked Falcon. 'You don't have a platoon.'
'I only have those closest to me. And I realize that in this respect I am a Westerner. Ideology breeds fanatics, and fanatics compete with each other to be more fanatical, until all the original clarity of their ideology has gone,' said Yacoub. 'The fanatics have damaged me by taking away what is dear to me, and I will hold them to account for it. I know my enemy now. I've lived with the narrowness of their minds, seen their vision of the future, heard their uncompromising views. I've had to absorb their ruthlessness, too, and now I'm beginning to make it my own.'
Falcon finished the food, downed the beer. Yacoub made his every action seem banal. The waiter came over with the cafe solo and a glass of water, took away the detritus of the meal.
'You've changed,' said Falcon.
'As I said, you can intellectualize as much as you like when you're on the outside, but I only found out the emotional truth by being on the inside,' said Yacoub. 'This feeling of purpose I have is from knowing that I'm fighting for those I love.'
'Not revenge?'
'Revenge too, but it's not the only driver,' said Yacoub. 'The disturbing and unsettling reality is that love is the other driver. I'm not sure that love and revenge aren't inextricably entwined. But what about you, Javier? What are you doing here? You didn't bring me here to talk about this.'
'Maybe the GICM are right and we Westerners have gone soft,' said Javier. 'Last night I turned my back on all my principles. I negotiated with criminals, stole evidence, allowed myself to be corrupted and, finally, I walked away from murder.'
'Why?'
'Not revenge,' said Falcon. 'Just love.'
'Whose love?'
'Consuelo's. And because I love her son, Dario.'
'And what has the boy got to do with any of this?'
'He's been kidnapped.'
Yacoub stiffened on the other side of the table and leaned slowly across to look at Falcon, who told him everything down to the whole horror of the previous night, which came back to him with surreal intensity.
'So if the Russians haven't got the boy, who has?' asked Yacoub.
'I think he's in Morocco.'
'Why?'
'Because one of those threatening calls I took, after seeing you in Madrid, told me that something would happen and when it did I would understand my responsibility for it and that I would 'recognize' it. And now I do recognize it. Don't you… Arturo?' asked Falcon, using Yacoub's long-forgotten Spanish name.
'When did they take him?'
'When I was with you in London,' said Falcon. 'They took him from a football club shop in the Sevilla FC stadium while his mother was on her mobile phone.'
The two men were staring at each other, alive as hunting hawks, not daring to blink.
'And you think the GICM are responsible?' asked Yacoub.
'I don't know. They could be.'
'What would they gain from it?'
'To mess up my head. To put me under pressure. To make sure that my attention was diverted elsewhere,' said Falcon, 'so that they could achieve what they wanted with their new recruit.'
'And…? Go on. Say it.'
'To screw up my relationship with you,' said Falcon. 'Because I would know that the only reason it had happened was because of our involvement with each other.'
'So they're testing your resolve, too,' said Yacoub. 'And what have they found?'
'That while love and family ties can be considered soft and sentimental,' said Falcon, 'they have also, throughout history, driven us to as savage a ruthlessness as any ideology or religious fanaticism.'
'Listen to me, Javier,' said Yacoub, fixing him from across the table with his dark eyes. 'You must not reveal, under any circumstances, what I told you in London. It is vitally important. If you do, I can guarantee that you will never see Dario again.'
'What the hell does that mean?' said Falcon. 'I thought your strategy had worked and this Saudi thing was over.'
'It is over, for the time being, but the intelligence services still want to know what happened,' said Yacoub. 'And believe me, they will set everyone on you to find out what I've told you. But you must not tell them.'
'So you know where Dario is?'
'No, I don't. But I think I know what this is about, and I will find out where he is,' said Yacoub, standing up. They embraced at the table. Yacoub kissed him on the cheek.
'One thing I don't understand,' said Falcon, 'is why you told me all that stuff in London when you knew it could be so dangerous to you.'
'First of all, you are my only true friend,' said Yacoub. 'And, strange to say, there are some things that can only be safe in the hands of a good friend. Secondly, it was imperative to me that you would be the one person who would know and understand the whole truth.'
25
On the road from Osuna to Seville – Tuesday, 19th September 2006, 18.00 hrs
Driving back to Seville, Falcon talking on the mobile to Ramirez, the sun low in the sky, the glare so penetrating that it hurt even through sunglasses – or was it something else twitching in the back of his mind, alongside Dario, making him uneasy?
'Where are you, Jose Luis?'
'I'm in the control tower at the airport. The private jet hired by I4IT/Horizonte is due in around five past seven,' said Ramirez. 'The flight plan out has just been logged for tomorrow. They're going to Malaga, taking off at midday.'
'El Pulmon?'
