Part 26 (1/2)

'So what can be done about that?' asked Dexter Hutchins.

Dollar Bill flicked on a switch and the Xenon lamps above his desk shone down on the parchment and filled the room with light, making it appear like a film set.

'By nine o'clock tomorrow morning the parchment will be nearer 1776. Even if, because you have failed to give me enough time, I miss perfection by a few years, I remain confident that there'll be no one in Iraq who'll be able to tell the difference, unless they are in possession of a Carbon 14 dating machine, and know how to use it.'

'Then we can only hope that the original hasn't already been destroyed,' said Dexter Hutchins.

'Not a chance,' said Scott.

'How can you be so confident?' asked Dexter.

'The day Saddam destroys that parchment, he will want the whole world to witness it. Of that I'm sure.'

'Then, I'm thinking a toast might be in order,' said the Irishman. 'That is, with my gracious host's permission.'

'A toast, Bill?' said the Deputy Director, sounding surprised. 'Who do you have in mind?' he asked suspiciously.

'To Hannah,' said the little Irishman, 'wherever she may be.'

'How did you know?' asked Scott. 'I've never mentioned her name.'

'No need to, when you write it on everything from the backs of envelopes to steaming windows. She must be a rery special lady, Professor.' He raised his gla.s.s and repeated the words, 'To Hannah.'

The Chief Administrator sat and waited patiently until the maid had removed the Amba.s.sador's dinner tray. He then closed his door at the other end of the corridor.

He waited for another two hours, until he felt certain all the emba.s.sy staff had gone to bed. Confident he would be the only one left awake, he crept back down to his office and looked up a telephone number in Geneva. He dialled the code slowly and deliberately. It rang for a long time before it was eventually answered.

'I need to speak to the Amba.s.sador,' he whispered.

'His Excellency retired to bed some time ago,' said a voice. 'You'll have to call back in the morning.'

'Wake him. Tell him it's Abdul Kanuk in Paris.'

'If you insist.'

'I do insist.'The Chief Administrator waited for some time before a sleepy voice eventually came on the line.

'This had better be good, Abdul.'

'Al Obaydi has arrived in Paris unannounced, and two weeks before he was expected.'

'You woke me in the middle of the night to tell me this?'

'But he didn't come direct from Baghdad, Excellency. He made a slight detour.'

'How can you be so sure?' said the voice, sounding a little more awake.

'Because I am in possession of his pa.s.sport.'

'But he's on holiday, you fool.'

'I know. But why spend the day in a city not known for attracting tourists?'

'You're talking in riddles. If you've got something to tell me, tell me.'

'Earlier today, Amba.s.sador Al Obaydi paid a visit to Stockholm, according to the stamp on his pa.s.sport, but he returned to Paris the same evening. Not my idea of a holiday.'

'Stockholm ... Stockholm ... Stockholm ...' repeated the voice on the other end of the line, as if trying to register its significance. A pause, and then, 'The safe. Of course. He must have gone on to Kalmar to check on Sayedi's safe. What has he found out that he thought worth hiding from me, and does Baghdad know what he's V up tor 'I have no idea, Excellency,' said the Administrator. 'But I do know he's flying back to Baghdad tomorrow.'

'But if he's on holiday, why would he return to Baghdad so quickly?'

'Perhaps being the Head of Interest Section in Paris is not reward enough for him, Excellency. Could he have his eyes on some greater prize?'

There was a long pause before the voice in Geneva said, 'You did well, Abdul. You were right to wake me. I shall have to phone Kalmar first thing in the morning. First thing,' he repeated.

'You did promise, Excellency, should I once again manage to bring to your attention.. .'

Tony Cavalli waited until Martin had poured them both a drink.

'Arrested in a bar-room brawl,' said his father after hehad listened to his son's report.

'Yes,' said Cavalli, placing a file on the table by his side, 'and what's more, he was sentenced to thirty days.'

'Thirty days?' said his father in disbelief. The old man paused before he added, 'What instructions have you given Laura?'

'I've put her on hold until July 15th, when Dollar Bill will be released,' Tony replied.

'So where have they locked him up this time? The county jail?'

'No. According to the records at the district court in Fairmont, they've thrown him back into the state pen.'

'For being involved in a bar-room brawl,' said the older man. 'It doesn't make sense.' He stared up at the Declaration of Independence on the wall behind his desk and didn't speak again for some moments.

'Who have we got on the inside?'

Cavalli opened the file on the table by his side and extracted a single sheet of paper. 'One senior officer and six inmates,' he said, pa.s.sing his research across, pleased to have antic.i.p.ated his father's question.

The old man studied the list of names for some time before he began licking his lips. 'Eduardo Bellatti must be our best bet,' he said, looking up at his son. 'If I remember correctly, he was sentenced to ninety-nine years for blowing away a judge who once got in our way.'

'Correct, and what's more, he's always been happy to kill anyone for a packet of cigarettes,' said Tony. 'So, if he takes care of Dollar Bill before July 15th, it would also save us a quarter of a million dollars.'

'Something isn't quite right,' said his father as he toyed with a whisky, which he hadn't touched. 'Perhaps it's time to dig a little deeper,' he added, almost as if he was talking to himself. He checked down the list of names once again.

Al Obaydi woke early the following morning, restless to be on his way to Baghdad so that he could brief the Foreign Minister on everything he'd learned. Once he was back on Iraqi soil he would prepare a full, written report. He went over the outline again and again in his mind.

He would first explain to the Foreign Minister that, while he was carrying out a routine sanctions check, he had learned that the safe that had been ordered by the President was already on its way to Baghdad. On discov- ering this, he had become suspicious that an enemy of thestate might be involved in an a.s.sa.s.sination attempt on the life of the President. Not being certain who could be trusted, he had used his initiative, and even his own time and money, to discover who was behind the plot. Within moments of his reporting the details to the Foreign Minister, Saddam was sure to find out whose responsibility the safe was and, more important, who had failed to take care of the President's well-being.

A tap on the door interrupted his thoughts. 'Come in,' he called, and a maid entered carrying a breakfast tray of two pieces of burnt toast and a cup of thick Turkish coffee. Once she had closed the door behind her, Al Obaydi rose, had a cold shower - not by choice - and dressed quickly. He then poured the coffee down the washbasin and ignored the toast.

The Amba.s.sador left his room and walked down one flight of stairs to his office, where he found the Chief Administrator standing behind his desk. Had he been sitting in his chair a moment before?