Part 17 (1/2)
”There are several possibilities. Many boats go to Malta. Others to Lampedusa. There are others that will travel to Sicily, and others that will go all the way to the mainland.”
”And there's no way of knowing?”
”Ali would know. The captain of the boat, obviously, he knows. Ali's lieutenants, perhaps. I am not a senior man. I do as I am told. I am not given his secrets. I am sorry, Mr. Smith. I tried to find out for you, really, I did. But I do not know what else I can do to help you.”
Milton stared out of the dusty winds.h.i.+eld as they drove to the south.
There was another way.
”Can you get me to Sabratah?”
Mustafa stared at him with an open mouth.
”Tomorrow morning,” Milton said. ”Can you get me on the boat?”
He looked over at him. ”What?”
”I need to know where it is going to end up.”
”You're crazy-”
Milton spoke over him. ”I need to know where the women will be handed over. If you can't help me, I'll just have to start following them here, rather than when they land.”
”You are not listening to me. You cannot go on the boat. Are you crazy? They are dangerous. They sink. You have seen the pictures?”
”If that's the only way I can find the men I need to find, then I don't have any other choice.”
Mustafa looked troubled.
Milton pressed, ”Can you get me on the boat?”
Mustafa flicked the indicator and pulled over to the side of the road.
”Mustafa?”
”Maybe. It is not an easy thing. Many of the migrants are black. Some of them are Libyans, some Syrian. None of them look like you.”
”Can you do it?”
”Maybe. I will need money. The guards will need to be paid.”
”How much?”
”I know two of the men. Not much. Two hundred dollars each.”
”Fine,” Milton said. He reached into his pocket, took out his roll of notes and counted out eight fifties. He folded them and pa.s.sed them over to Mustafa. The man reached for the notes, but Milton intercepted his hand and held it. ”I'm counting on you, Mustafa. You understand that, don't you? It's very important. Don't let me down. Omar would be unhappy if you did. You know what that would mean for you.”
”You do not have to threaten me,” Mustafa said. ”I know very well. That is why I am here.”
Milton held Mustafa's hand for a beat and then released it, allowing the Libyan to draw his hand away.
”The boat leaves early tomorrow morning. Very early. Where is your hotel?”
”I'll meet you at the Victory Arch.”
”I will be there at half past three.” He looked as if he was about to speak again, but he shook his head instead.
”What?” Milton said.
”You should make sure you are well dressed. It can be cold at sea.”
Chapter Thirty.
MUSTAFA DROVE MILTON back into town and dropped him near the souk.
Milton checked his watch: it was half past nine. He took out his phone and left Omar a message to say that they would need to meet in an hour.
He went back to Caffe Casa and took a seat outside. He attracted the attention of one of the surly waiters, ordered a double espresso and waited for Omar.
He didn't have long to wait. He saw the suave intelligence officer as he approached across Essaa Square, distinctive in his smart pale blue suit, bright white s.h.i.+rt and dark gla.s.ses. He was carrying a leather satchel. He saw Milton and picked a route between the tables until he was able to take the seat opposite him.
”Mr. Smith.”
”Omar. Would you like a drink?”
”I'll get them. Would you like another?”
”Just a gla.s.s of orange juice.”
Omar c.o.c.ked his finger, and the waiter, now considerably less surly than when he had served Milton five minutes earlier, came over and dutifully took the order.
”They try very hard here,” Omar said, flicking his fingers to indicate that he meant the cafe. ”They would like us all to think we are in Greece or Italy, sipping a frappe or a Freddo while we watch the world go by. It is a worthy attempt until you hear a car bomb or automatic gunfire and you remember: this is Tripoli, not Paris.”
”I've been to worse places.”
”Really? You have not been here long enough, Mr. Smith. How was Abu Salim?”
”Yes, that was worse.”
”Did you have a profitable meeting with Mustafa?”
”Yes and no.”