Part 5 (2/2)

Leaning over the desk on Hector's righthand side was Paddy O'Quinn. He was much younger than Hector, and had served under him in the SAS. He was tall, lean and muscled with a quick temper and even quicker mind. He had been a career soldier until he had made one small error of judgement. On the battlefield he had struck a junior officer with sufficient force to break his jaw.

'The man was a p.r.i.c.k,' was how he had explained this lapse of judgement to Hector. 'He had just had half his platoon mown down thanks to his stupidity, and then he started to argue with me.' Paddy would probably have been a senior officer by now, without that single mistimed punch. The army's loss was Hector's and Cross Bow's gain. The other two men facing Hector across the desk were both Arabs. This had at first surprised Hazel; after all, Hector Cross was a renowned racist, was he not?

'I would rather have one of those gentlemen covering my backside in a hard fight than most other men I know,' Hector had told her when she remarked on his choice. 'Like most of their race they are hard warriors and cunning as h.e.l.l. Of course, they are able to think like thugs, talk like thugs and pa.s.s as thugs. Set a fox to catch a fox, as someone once said. Together we make a good team; when things get really tough I can pray to Jesus Christ while they can pray to Allah. That way we have all our bets covered.'

Tariq Hakam had been attached to Hector's unit in Iraq as his interpreter and local guide. He and Hector had taken to each other from the first day when they ran into an ambush and had to fight their way out. He had been at Hector's side on the dreadful day of the roadside bomb. When Hector had opened up on the three Arab insurgents who had laid the bomb and seemed to be about to deploy a suicide device, Tariq had backed Hector's fire and taken down one of the enemy. When Hector had resigned his commission Tariq had come to him and said, 'You are my father. Where you go I will go also.'

'Can't argue with that,' Hector had agreed. 'Not sure where I'm headed, but pack your kit and come along.'

The other Arab facing Hector across the desk was Uthmann Waddah. 'Uthmann is Uthmann,' Hector had told Hazel. 'No one can replace him. I trust him as I trust myself.'

Hazel smiled at the memory of Hector's simple explanations of his relations.h.i.+p with the four men. She had taken much of it as gross hyperbole at the time, but watching them now as they debated their options around the situation room desk she was revising that opinion.

We few, we happy few! she thought and in a strange way she felt envious of Hector. It must be wonderful to belong to such a tight-knit band; to spend your days in the company of brothers with whom you could trust your life. Never to know loneliness. Henry had been gone many years now. Even in the midst of the throng loneliness was her austere and constant companion. she thought and in a strange way she felt envious of Hector. It must be wonderful to belong to such a tight-knit band; to spend your days in the company of brothers with whom you could trust your life. Never to know loneliness. Henry had been gone many years now. Even in the midst of the throng loneliness was her austere and constant companion.

Her laptop beeped, alerting her to an incoming message. It would be Agatha. Hazel quickly turned to it. She stared at the screen in disbelief, and then let out a choking cry.

'Oh, my dear G.o.d! This cannot be happening!'

'What is it?' Hector demanded.

'Cayla has sent me a message!'

'Don't open it! It's not Cayla,' Hector shouted, but he was on the opposite side of the desk and couldn't reach her in time to stop her. Her fingers flew over the keys. There was an alert that there was an attachment. She pressed the 'Download' b.u.t.ton and then stared at the screen. The blood drained from her face. She opened her mouth as if to speak but the sound that burst past her lips was a high keening cry of mourning. Hector thought she might fall for she reeled in her chair. He caught her shoulders and shook her.

'What is it? Pull yourself together! For G.o.d's sake, woman. What is it?' She closed her mouth and stared at him as if she had never seen him before. Then she straightened in the chair and drew a deep breath, fighting for control of her emotions. She still could not speak, but handed him the laptop. He looked down at the image on the screen. It was of a pretty young white girl in Muslim dress, but with her face and hair exposed. Her expression was haunted and forlorn. She held a copy of a newspaper so he could read the date under the headline. On each side of the girl stood armed and masked men. On the wall behind her was a banner with messages of militant and radical religious cant printed over it in black Arabic script.

'Is it her?' he asked, and when she could not reply he shook her gently. 'Is this Cayla?'

She gasped to catch her breath and then she whispered, 'Yes, it's Cayla. It's my baby.' She s.h.i.+vered. 'But why should she send me this terrifying picture of herself?'

'She did not send that,' Hector said harshly. 'It was sent by her captors. They are opening a line of contact with us. The picture was just to intimidate you, but they are ready to negotiate at last.'

'But it's from Cayla's mobile phone.'

'They have taken it from her, or at least they have taken the Sim card out of her phone.' He turned her to face him. 'Listen to me. This is to the good. We know now with certainty that Cayla was alive three days ago. That is the date on the newspaper she is holding.' Hazel nodded. 'Now we have a direct line to her captors. We can negotiate with them. We might even be able to trace the origin of the message by the network that sent it.' He handed the laptop across the desk to David Imbiss. 'You're the geek, Dave. Tell us what you can about this transmission. Can we tell which country it was sent from?'

'Sure, Heck.' Imbiss examined the laptop. 'Might take time, but with a court order the company which is the server might be forced to tell us which of their networks sent it.' He handed the computer back to Hector. 'But it would be a sweet waste of time.'

'How's that, Dave?'

'The photograph was taken three days ago. Suppose it was taken in Cairo. There was plenty of time to courier the Sim card to an accomplice in, say, Rome. He or she transmits the message to us and then returns the Sim card to the main man by the same route that it came.'

's.h.i.+t!' Hector said.

's.h.i.+t indeed,' Dave agreed. 'If we are going to have ongoing correspondence with these people you can be certain every message from them will be sent from a different country. Today Italy, next week Venezuela.' Hector thought about this and then turned back to Hazel.

'What is the balance on Cayla's BlackBerry account, do you have any idea? The Beast will not top up the account if it goes dry, it would be too dangerous for them. We don't want the trail to break off for lack of a few dollars.'

'I put two thousand dollars into Cayla's account while we were in Cape Town.'

'You could talk for a year on that,' Hector opined. With this lady nothing is ever done by halves With this lady nothing is ever done by halves, he thought and smiled inwardly.

'I didn't want her to have any excuse not to call me,' said Hazel, justifying herself.

'Excellent! So we want to make sure that they keep on using this number.' He told her, 'What you must do right away is reply to them. Make sure that they know we will be listening in for them. Do it now, please, Mrs Bannock.' She nodded and then typed in a message on the keyboard. When she had finished she turned it towards him to read.

Gentlemen, I will be waiting to receiveyour further messages. In the meantimeplease do not hurt her.

'No!' Hector said sharply. 'Leave out the salutation. Gentlemen they are not, and it serves no purpose. Then cut out the appeal not to hurt her. Just leave the bare bones. I am waiting. I am waiting. That's all.' She nodded, made the amendment and showed Hector the result. That's all.' She nodded, made the amendment and showed Hector the result.

'Good. Send it!' he said. Then he looked up at his men. 'Everyone out, please. From now on it's ”need to know” only.' They understood. If one of them were to be captured and tortured they could not divulge information they did not have. They began to file out of the room.

'Tariq. Uthmann. Stay behind, please.' The two Arabs turned back to their chairs at the table. Hazel could contain herself no longer.

'Cross,' she blurted, 'is there nothing more we can do? Oh G.o.d, how do we find where they are holding her?'

'That's what we have been discussing for the past hour,' Hector reminded her. 'If there is one weakness the Beast has it is that it loves to talk, it loves to boast of its victories.'

Hazel shook her head. 'I don't understand.'

'If you know where to listen you may be able to pick up the echoes of its gloating.'

'Do you know where to listen?' she asked.

'No, but Uthmann and Tariq do,' he replied. 'I'm sending them into deep cover. I'm putting them into the countries in which they were born and where their links to the local populace will be strongest. Tariq will go to Puntland and Uthmann to Iraq. They will sniff around until they pick up the scent. Even if they are holding Cayla somewhere else, these two will find out where she is.'

'That will be terribly dangerous for them, won't it? They'll be on their own entirely and you won't be able to protect them.'

'You are greatly understating the case, Mrs Bannock. They will be at deadly risk. But they are hard to kill. They have survived so far against all odds.' Hazel looked across at the two Arabs.

'I can never thank you enough. You are risking your life for my daughter. You are very, very brave men.'

'Not too much praise!' Hector protested. 'They already have highly inflated opinions of their own worth. Next thing they will be asking me for a raise, or something equally ridiculous.' Everyone, except Hazel, laughed and it eased the tension a little.

'Until they come up with a definite lead we will keep the ball in play here. At the same time we will make every possible preparation for the moment when we are certain where they are holding Cayla, and we can go in to bring her out.'

There was a daily flight on Zara Airlines' Fokker F-27 Friends.h.i.+p twin turbojet pa.s.senger plane from the airstrip at Sidi el Razig to Ash-Alman, the capital of Abu Zara. The next morning Tariq and Uthmann quietly joined the crowd of oil rig workers and labourers in the small airline check-in area. Dressed in traditional garb, with their faces half-covered by their shumag, they blended into the crowd. Once they reached the capital they separated. Tariq boarded the aircraft to Mogadishu in Somalia and an hour later Uthmann took the flight to Baghdad. They had vanished amongst the faceless Arab mult.i.tudes.

The next morning Hector sought out Hazel and found her at breakfast in the tiny company mess. As he stood over her he glanced down at the bowl of cereal and the cup of black coffee on the table in front of her. No wonder she is in this kind of shape, he thought.

'Good morning, Mrs Bannock. I hope you slept well.'

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