‘I’ll go and pick up a hire car now.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ll meet you down in the lobby in one hour.’
‘What about manpower?’
Janov shook his head. ‘No extra men this time; just you and me. It’s better that way.’ He put his hand on Maggot’s shoulder. ‘We will make our way to Charika and then, after dark we go to where he is hiding and when they are sleeping, we will finish Abdul Khaliq and his friends.’
Cavendish hurried over to Base Headquarters and called in at the Base Security office. He asked to see McCain. Cavendish hadn’t known the head of security very long, less than forty eight hours in fact; but he was about to put a lot of trust and faith in his own instincts and tell Lieutenant McCain the reason why he had paid an unexpected visit to Afghanistan.
Brad McCain was a ruddy looking character, reaching his mid-forties and wearing well in the manner of many Americans in the armed forces. He hailed from Kentucky and had told Cavendish many yarns the previous evening about the county, the horses and the whiskey during their encounter. Cavendish had taken to him quite quickly.
‘Come in Sir Giles. Have a seat.’ McCain had risen from his chair and was pointing to the single chair facing his desk.
Cavendish sat down. ‘Please call me Giles,’ he said. ‘It is so less formal.’
McCain smiled and threw a wink at Cavendish. ‘Anything you say, Giles.’ He sat down. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’
‘Have you ever heard of The Chapter of Mercy?’ Cavendish began.
McCain’s expression changed instantly. Gone was the ruddy, smiling, hail-fellow-well-met countenance, replaced by one of caution. He said nothing, just nodded his head.
Cavendish tried to read something in the man’s face, but still had to go with his instincts. ‘They run a mission here in Afghanistan for deprived children. They also operate in Pakistan and India. They do terrific work for the underprivileged and deprived kids in those countries.’
McCain picked up a paper knife and began tapping out a gentle tattoo on his desk top. He looked thoughtful for a while. Then he nodded and told Cavendish that he knew of The Chapter of Mercy.
‘And did you know that they smuggle drugs out of the country and into Europe?
‘I have heard the rumour,’ McCain admitted.
‘And did you know that they smuggle arms back into Afghanistan to keep the armed jihad going?’
McCain’s eyes narrowed and a frown dived from his forehead into deep creases like furrows across his eyebrows.
‘Can you substantiate this?’ he asked.
Cavendish shrugged and gestured with his hands. ‘Of course not, but how often have you, as a security man known facts that you couldn’t prove either because of lack of evidence or because you were under strict orders from your superiors to keep your mouth shut?’
McCain nodded his head and a smile of recognition wandered across his face. He hunched forward, lifting his head slightly.
‘Why don’t you just come right out with it, Giles? Make it so much easier.’
‘Do you know Randy Hudson, CIA chief who was in England until a week ago? ‘ McCain tilted his head slightly and looked up as though he was trying to recall something lodged somewhere in his brain. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Cavendish with the paper knife.
‘Randy Hudson; flew in a couple of days ago. Yeah, that’s the guy. Why, what’s he done?’
So Cavendish told him; as much as he dared. When he had finished, McCain whistled softly through his teeth. He got up from his desk, put the paper knife down and went over to a water cooler. He filled a plastic cup from it, holding it towards Cavendish as an offering. Cavendish shook his head.
What’s your next question?’ he asked, lifting his jaw.
‘I think he had something to do with the attack on me last night,’ Cavendish told him. ‘I saw him coming out of this building with an officer in uniform. I want to know if they were with you and who the officer was.’
McCain pushed himself away from the water cooler and went back to his desk. He tossed the empty cup into his waste basket and sat down.
‘I could tell you to go to hell,’ McCain told him.
Cavendish agreed, and deep down he knew this would be the point at which his raison d’etre would either fail or succeed.
‘But you won’t, will you?’ he put to McCain carefully.
McCain shook his head and gave a short, snuffling laugh. ‘I hate those cocky bastards,’ he said with venom. ‘They act like they’re top guys; look down on us. Probably call us all grunts, I shouldn’t wonder.’ He wrung his hands together, working the knuckles into each palm.
‘What’s your call on this then, Sir Giles?’ he asked suddenly, forgetting Cavendish’s suggestion that he dropped the formality. ‘You wanna get even with him because you got socked over the head?’
Cavendish shook his head. ‘No. What I want to do is bring some signal traffic through your resources, and I don’t want any CIA officer looking in on it. I also want to know the names of any officers that Hudson might be real friendly with.’
‘The signal traffic’s not a problem; I can give you clearance on that effective immediately. But collecting names?’ He shook his head vigorously. ‘The C.O. would have my balls if he thought I was going round collecting names.’
Cavendish put his hand up. ‘OK Lieutenant, sorry I asked.’
McCain opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a folder. He extracted a small form from it and passed it across the desk to Cavendish.
‘Just jot your particulars on there. It will be needed for your clearance once I’ve signed it.’
Cavendish took the form and filled in the blank spaces. Then he signed it and handed it back to McCain who countersigned it.
‘Give me one hour and I’ll take you over to the ops room; you can send your signal then.’
Cavendish got up and shook McCain’s hand.
‘Thank you Lieutenant. One hour.’
‘By the way,’ McCain said to him as he was making his way to the door, ‘the guy who was with Hudson? His name is Berry. Lieutenant Chuck Berry; posted in recently. He was on transports, the Hercs, but he had a problem and had to be medically downgraded for a while, so he’s been assigned to the MQ-9 Reaper Flight. I’ll see you in one hour.’
TWENTY ONE
It was late afternoon as Abdul pulled off the main highway north of Charika and brought the Landcruiser rumbling down on to a dirt road. They were immediately surrounded in a cloud of dust as the wheels bit into the dry, sandy rock that had seen the passage of weather and traffic over many years and had crumbled beneath the onslaught. The hills rose up on either side of the road, but soon those on the east side began to lose their height against the mountains that were rising up in the west.
The green valley they were driving into began to lose its colour as the light faded. Although they passed several dwellings, most of them looked unoccupied. Marcus wondered idly how much of that was to do with the war, and how much was to do with the locals going off in search of work in the towns and cities.
Their journey up to Charika had been uneventful. It had taken them about five hours. There hadn’t been much talking; mainly small talk when they did open their mouths. From time to time they passed small convoys of army trucks and armed vehicles. Most of them were American. Occasionally they would see a British convoy, but because they were not travelling through the British Zone, they didn’t expect to come across many.
Susan had been thinking of her brother more and more as the journey progressed. Abdul had assured her that her brother was alive and well, and would be released to her as soon as he had received instructions from the British when and where they could complete the handover? providing the guarantees had been put in place.
