‘This is just before it went off,’ Gann said, moving to the monitor to point things out. ‘While everyone else is movin’ towards the Talibutts, Charon and his cellmate Hamlin move back. They don’t want any of the action. Now, my boys move in . . .’
‘Your boys?’ Hank interrupted.
‘My job - orders from your boss, as I understand it - was to take out the people in that ferry and it ain’t done until Charon is history.’
Hank’s expression tightened. He glanced at Mandrick, wondering if he was in on this. Mandrick remained poker-faced.
‘Now look at this. Charon here wastes my guys in just two moves. He didn’t learn that in the joint . . . Then he starts to move back to safety. Remember, he don’t want any part of this fight. But then he sees somethin’ and in a second he’s the other side of the room and on top of one of the Talibutts. But take a look at this. He ain’t there for the fightin’. He even says somethin’ to the guy. Whatever it is, the guy gets mad and then the depressurisation got to ’em.’
Hank was not entirely convinced and replayed the last segment of the recording.
‘I don’t know what he’s doin’,’ Gann said. ‘But I know when something stinks - and that guy stinks.’
Hank freeze-framed on a close-up of the Afghan.
‘The Talibutt’s name is Durrani,’ Gann offered. He could see that he had scored with the video.
Mandrick remembered the name as the one Hank had given to him earlier when he’d asked him to carry out a pre-interrogation softening-up. He stared at the side of Hank’s head, wondering what was going on inside it.
Hank knew it was Durrani the moment he saw him on the monitor. The Afghan was the reason for his present visit. He pondered the various permutations of the situation, unable to make anything out of it at that moment. But the observations, if accurate, certainly gave food for thought. Cogwheels of possibility began to turn and click as an intelligence with twenty-two years of experience in the business filed the information in readiness for any future connections.
Hank had spent the last ten years specialising in interrogation and information-extrapolation techniques with Asian and Middle Eastern Muslim subjects. He began his Agency career in Pakistan near the end of the Russian occupation of Afghanistan, spending much of those early days operating out of an office in the US embassy in Islamabad. For most of that period he liaised with the Saudi Arabian and Pakistani intelligence services in their combined efforts to finance, supply and train the Afghan mujahideen in order to oust the Russians. Then, when the Communist grip on Russia finally collapsed along with the Berlin Wall, Hank was already taking seriously the new danger shaping up to take its place in the form of Islamic fundamentalism. He was in Langley when Mir Aimal Kasi gunned down five CIA staff as they waited at the checkpoint to drive into the CIA headquarters. A month later in New York Ramzi Yousef parked a vehicle on level B-2 of the World Trade Center and detonated a bomb that killed six people in a cafeteria above. The two young men, both of Pakistani origin, neither of whom knew that the other existed, casually left the country on flights to Pakistan hours after their attack.
Hank moved to Afghanistan to begin the overseas hunt for them. He also got involved in several operations intended to kill or kidnap a dangerous upstart called Osama bin Laden. He lived through the formative days of the great jihad against America that eventually led to the successful destruction of the Twin Towers. He remained in Afghanistan to welcome the first American troops and followed them into Kabul to set up the Agency’s new offices. Hank played his part in the defeat of the Taliban only to then suffer the indignity of their subsequent reorganisation with the help of many of his ‘old friends’ in the Saudi Arabian and Pakistani intelligence services who had their own agendas that were far removed from his.
With the rise of the Iraqi insurgency after the US-LED invasion of that country Hank was assigned to aid in the setting-up of information-gathering cells around the world. But following the constant media attacks against Guantanamo Bay and the subsequent witch-hunt by many countries against CIA interrogation centres within their borders, he was grateful for a chance to take a key development role in what could only be described as a bizarre and audacious undertaking. Not only did Styx eventually open for business but it ended up yielding high-quality information while attracting the minimum possible outside scrutiny.When it came to security, media curiosity, eavesdropping and covert investigations, a prison beneath the surface of the ocean was like having one on the Moon. It was almost perfect . . . almost, but not quite.
Hank had never been under any illusion that Styx would last for ever. But he thought it would at least survive for a decade or two and, with luck, perhaps even see the Agency through to the end of the jihad. Now, after only two years, organisational cracks were starting to form in the administrative structure of the little oceanic citadel that he’d had such high hopes for. The FBI was trying to investigate the CIA interrogations as well as the so-called mining infractions by the host corporation. The media had become equally keen to report on anything to do with the prison.The White House was afraid of what the FBI and the media might find. And the only thing holding it all together outside the Agency was the greed of a handful of civilians who ran the place.The key, with them at least, was to ensure that their greed was not completely sated. Rumours that the mine was drying up did not help matters at all. Quite the reverse, in fact. He was in danger of losing the only glue holding it all together.
But it wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. Not if Hank could help it. ‘I want you to listen to me carefully, ’ he said to Gann. ‘Nothing else happens to anyone in this prison unless I say so. Is that clear?’
‘What about Charon?’ Gann asked.
‘If he dies after surviving one dubious disaster already it’ll only bring a hundred of his buddies crawling all over this place. He isn’t going anywhere and he has no one to talk to but us - so relax.’
Mandrick thought about mentioning that Christine had met with Charon when he first became conscious. But that might upset more than one apple-cart. If Gann knew as much he might just be stupid enough to try and kill her too. Hank would be none too pleased either, especially with this new implication. Mandrick had a lot of plans in various stages of development, all of them based around his own interests. One of them was Christine and if he smeared her with more suspicion than she had already attracted he might as well forget about her. But he didn’t want to, not just yet. He would hold on to his information for the time being.
‘I want you to hoist in one last thing,’ Hank said to Gann. ‘One important piece of information that you should never forget . . . You listening?’
Gann nodded, a feeling of superiority stealing over him. He felt he was a little more equal to the agent than when he’d walked into the room minutes earlier.
‘You’re a moron,’ Hank said with utter conviction. ‘You’ve always been a moron and nothing will change that.’
Gann felt his temples throb as he stared into the eyes of the chubby man within a haymaker’s reach of him.
‘Morons don’t think for themselves,’ Hank went on. ‘You got that?’
Mandrick knew Gann a lot better than Hank did but it would appear that the CIA agent was a far better judge of character. Mandrick was waiting for Gann to slap Hank in the chops, almost tensing in expectation of the blow, and wondering what his reaction should be. He was impressed with both men, and somewhat relieved, when the punch did not come.
Mandrick had to agree with Hank’s basic sentiments, though. Gann was not the brightest lamp in the street. But then, neither was he a complete idiot. He had managed to carry out what had to be acknowledged as a complicated sabotage of a Styx ferry that, with a little help from Mandrick, would be difficult to prove had been foul play. Admittedly, there was the Charon factor, of course, but that aside it had been a good effort. And the fact that he had refrained from dropping Hank was a further indication of Gann’s basic good sense. However, he doubted that Gann would forget the insult soon - or ever, for that matter. Mandrick might have misjudged Gann’s ability to hold back his violent impulses in the short term but he was confident that at that very moment the man was plotting Hank’s demise for some day in the future.
‘You people are falling apart,’ Hank said, redirecting his ire at Mandrick. ‘You don’t have the balls to hold this place together.’
Mandrick sighed. ‘We’re tougher than you think. A lot’s happened but we can get away with a lot more.’
‘You always tell people what they want to hear, don’t you, Mandrick? You want me to think you believe we’ll come after you when you jump. But the truth is, guys like you never really do believe it until it’s too late.’ Hank stared into Mandrick’s eyes.‘I’ve been buying and selling truth and lies for a long time and from people far better equipped to play the game than you. You’re lying to me, Mandrick. It’s clear as a mountain stream to these old eyes.You know what’s better than getting even with someone who screws with you?’
