Its wreckage has been discovered by a Canadian special forces patrol on an old Russian airfield in a place called Herat, about fifty miles west of Amira. There was a badly burned corpse in it.
Are you suggesting Selim was picked up?
I ve looked up Russian Army records for that place. It has a concrete runway and was originally constructed to take large fixed-wing transport planes. Selim s Hawker, even though it s a jet, would have had no trouble landing, Roper said. In fact, the only problem would be an inconvenient Raptor helicopter and its pilot. I think it s obvious what happened there. It is a clich, but dead men tell no tales.
Fascinating stuff, Dillon put in. But it still doesn t tell us where Selim is at this precise moment in time and, even more important, what his intentions are.
You re absolutely right, Ferguson said.
I think the next thing we might hear is another of Ali Selim s anti-West diatribes in the interest of self- advertisement for his glorious cause.
The newspapers will love that, Holley said.
Which is exactly why he says that kind of thing, Sara put in. It makes sense, doesn t it? Just like Adolf Hitler, when you think of it. The villain who is so outrageous that you can laugh at him becomes tolerated by the public.
Which is when he becomes most dangerous, Holley observed. Because he takes himself seriously.
A fascinating theory, Ferguson said to Sara, but also a depressing one. The most important thing is that the Prime Minister is not a happy man. His orders are to find Ali Selim and to put everything to one side until we do. Let s get going on that, shall we?
Sara checked out Harry Miller, then sat down beside Holley again as her Codex sounded. It was Sadie. Where are you? the housekeeper demanded. I tried the house last night. No one was home, and I got worried.
I ve been on a training course, Sara told her. We re on our way back. A night flight. How are things?
The baby is doing well, but my niece isn t so good. I need to give her another week to see how things work out. A smile crept into her voice. Have you been seeing any more of that Mr. Holley?
Sara rolled her eyes. Yes, Sadie, I have.
Oh, well, at least you re getting looked after.
They talked for a minute more, then hung up.
Sadie, Sara said to Holley. Her niece needs her for longer than she thought.
I m surprised she hasn t got in touch with you before this, Holley said. If only she knew what you ve been up to, she d have a fit. What about your granddad?
I haven t exactly had time on my hands, she said. But you re right to remind me. It s a little early. I ll have some coffee and call him in an hour.
I ll get it for you, Holley said, and left her there for a few moments, thinking about what had happened in an astonishingly short period of time and wondering how she would manage to appear normal and collected when she spoke to her grandfather. In fact, he took care of the situation for her.
He sounded very cheerful. You must have wondered what happened to me. I m sorry I haven t been in touch. I ve never been so busy. Where are you, by the way, not at home? I called you there.
In an airplane, Sara told him. London-bound. I ve been away on a training trip for a couple of days. How are things going?
That s what I m calling you about. Such good news! St. Andrews University wants me to hold a seminar on comparative religion for doctoral students. It s a great honor.
When do you start?
I m already there! Two weeks, my love, I hope you don t mind. I know Sadie is away.
Nonsense. Why should I mind? She d put her Codex on speaker.
He said, Is Daniel with you?
Yes, he is.
Excellent. I m not a fool, and I m sure you re up to all sorts of devious things which occasion danger now and then. I m glad he s around to keep an eye on you.
I m sure he ll be glad to hear that, she said, deciding not to tell him he was on speaker.
He s almost biblical in a way, just like his name. A man who will always do the right thing, in spite of himself. That s very rare. I must go now I ve got an early meeting. Stay in touch.
Holley couldn t think of a thing to say. She took his hand and held it tight. There we are, then, a good girl I am. I always believe everything my granddad tells me.
Every aspect of Rubat society was so touched by Al Qaeda that Colonel Abdul Khazid, the chief of police, had long since learned to go with the flow like everyone else and do as he was told. When the Hawker put down to refuel, he knew who was on board and exactly what was expected of him. He drove out personally in an airport security van to make an apparent courtesy call on the pilots, but returned with Ali Selim and Ibrahim concealed in the back.
The Hawker was already taking off as the security van left the airport, and Khazid said, It s good to see you again. They ve been giving you problems in London, it seems.
They always are, Ali Selim said. Which is why I try to give them problems.
Khazid, ever the diplomat, said, That was a great speech in Hyde Park. Al Jazeera had it on television.
Unfortunately, such popularity also brings some inconvenience, which is why I ve dropped in here incognito. I stopped off in northern Afghanistan with British agents on my tail, intent on killing me. I m lucky to be here, out of sight while I consider the future.
Naturally, I will do everything in my power to assist in this unwelcome situation, Khazid said. My police force is small but well trained.
And capable of recognizing strangers when they see them, or those asking the wrong sort of questions?
Are you suggesting that the British know you are here?
They ll just look everywhere, and the CIA will help them. Tell me, is anything different from the last time I was here? Does Captain Ahmed still command the ship?
He likes to think he does, but only when it suits, which is seldom.
And Fatima Karim?
Is still administrator, which means she runs everything, including Ahmed, who lusts after her helplessly.
He had breached the hill with the view of the port below, a jumble of white terraces and flat roofs tumbling down to the harbor crowded with boats. Anchored in the center was the Monsoon, a three-masted traditional Arab dhow, lovingly restored by the same Gulf sheikh who owned the Hawker.
Why have we stopped? Ali Selim demanded.
You usually like the view.
Damn the view. And as far as Ahmed is concerned, that big oaf may be able to handle a ship in a storm, but it beats me how he can let a woman like Fatima walk all over him. He sighed.
Just drive.
At the main jetty, Ali Selim and Ibrahim parted from Khazid and boarded a motorboat crewed by two sailors from the Monsoon. They reached the boat in fifteen minutes and found Captain Ahmed waiting at the rail to greet them. A gaunt and anxious-looking man with an iron-gray beard, he wore traditional robes plus a dark blue naval blazer with brass buttons and a cap with gold braid.
He spoke in Arabic. Welcome, master, it is good to see you.
You look ridiculous, Ali Selim told him. Where is Fatima?
She waits for you in the owner s quarters.
Then go about your business. When I need you, I ll send for you. Go with him, Ibrahim. Get something to eat.
The owner s quarters were in the stern of the ship and very fine indeed, with polished and restored wooden floors, Persian and Indian carpets everywhere. Shuttered doors stood open in the stateroom, revealing the study behind, beautifully paneled in finest walnut and oak. Fatima Karim stood at the side of a wide Victorian desk.
She wore a black jumpsuit of raw silk and a chador in the same material. She was handsome rather than beautiful, with olive skin and violet eyes that made her extremely attractive. Her degree from the London School of Economics also made her attractive, but for different reasons.
Ali Selim spoke first and used English, reaching for her hands.
