Read Three Great Novels Online
Authors: Henry Porter
Tags: #Thrillers, #Action & Adventure, #Fiction
Three Great Novels (16 page)
‘No,’ Loz said with finality. He smiled at Harland once, a brief piece of punctuation that closed the issue. He turned and ordered for them both - caviar, blinis and Kobi beef with spinach. ‘Will you have some wine? I don’t drink.’
Harland shook his head.
‘Good, I’m glad to hear you’re giving your system a rest.’ He paused. ‘What if I told you I was going to be arrested tonight?’
‘I would be very surprised if you had advance notice of that.’
‘It’s a feeling. The pressure has been increasing over the last few days. I cannot be arrested and I cannot submit to confinement. I want your help to avoid it.’
‘Tell me about your friend,’ said Harland, noticing now that nearly every woman in the restaurant had either waved to or was stealing looks in Loz’s direction.
‘We were both sent to Westminster School in London to gain qualifications to go to college in England. Karim was from an affluent family in Lahore - very old, very pukka. I was brought up in Lebanon, though my father was Iranian; my mother had a Druze background. We were outsiders in an English public school so it was natural that we became friends, despite being unlike each other in practically every way. He was wilder, more gregarious, more daring and I suppose more fun. I think we relied on each other’s strengths.’
‘Tell me about these postcards.’
Loz took five postcards from his pocket and laid them out in their order of arrival. Harland examined the images then turned them over. On each there was a short message in an educated hand. The first said:
Greetings, my old friend. I am in Pakistan and hope very soon to be in London. I may need a little help from you. I have good news. I am returning to complete my medical studies, as you always said I should.
The next two were less upbeat and gave only details of where Khan was in Iran. The card from Turkey told how much of his money had been stolen. He still had $400 that his mother had given him and he hoped to use this to get to London. But there were unspecified visa and passport problems.
Harland read them again. ‘They seem harmless enough,’ he said eventually.‘But these days intelligence services are likely to look at them with an eye for codes and hidden messages.’
Loz wasn’t listening. ‘Karim needs my help,’ he said, looking straight past Harland into the mêlée of diners and table-hoppers. ‘The last postcard, from Albania, was followed by this letter. I assume they read this as well, but there were no signs of the envelope having been opened.’ He withdrew a single sheet of lined paper from his jacket. The letter was signed by a Mr Skender. It told of Karim Khan’s arrest and imprisonment and his transfer to the state security centre in Tirana. The letter mentioned that Khan had made the local TV news in the context of a massacre in Macedonia.
‘I know something about this incident,’ said Harland. ‘The UN has been asked to investigate by the Albanian minority in Macedonia.’
Loz turned to him. ‘I had a friend go through the Balkan news websites - it’s clear those men were murdered. They had come from Turkey. Karim must have been travelling with them.’
‘Then why wasn’t he killed?’
‘Because he knows what to do in such situations.’ He produced a printout of a web page from a Greek newspaper and pointed to a photograph of a bedraggled man, dwarfed between two policemen. ‘That is Karim, though he is barely recognisable. You can see that he is very thin and has been hurt.’ A troubled look swept his face and he reached for the bottle of water. Neither of them had eaten much of the first course, and when he had drained his glass he pushed his plate aside and waved to the waiter.
‘I had the caption beneath the picture translated.’ He handed Harland a piece of white card.
TERRORIST SNARED AFTER GUN BATTLE IN MACEDONIA. Jasur al-Jahez, the man who escaped from Macedonian security forces in a raging gun battle has been found to be a Palestinian terrorist wanted in connection with outrages by the Israeli authorities and also by Syria, Egypt and Lebanon. Jasur al-Jahez, also known as The Electrician, was believed to have died of natural causes eighteen months ago and has not been heard of since. Israel, Syria and Egypt are now seeking his extradition.
Loz took back the card. ‘This
is
Karim, but for reasons I cannot comprehend they believe he is Jasur. Jasur has killed many, many people. Apparently he split with Hamas in the early nineties and formed a group that assassinated moderate clerics and politicians all over the Middle East.’
is
Karim, but for reasons I cannot comprehend they believe he is Jasur. Jasur has killed many, many people. Apparently he split with Hamas in the early nineties and formed a group that assassinated moderate clerics and politicians all over the Middle East.’
‘I have heard of him,’ said Harland. ‘Your friend is in a lot of trouble if they think he’s Jasur.’
‘Now you see why I cannot be arrested,’ he said, placing his hand lightly on Harland’s. ‘I must help him.’
Whether or not something was transmitted in the touch Harland could not say, but he was aware that a part of him submitted very easily with the pressure of Loz’s hands, and something made him try to resist. ‘What can you do?’
‘I don’t know, but I must try. Now I think we should go. There’s a letter on your desk from the Secretary-General. He wrote it before he left and asked me to let him know when it should be released to you. In that letter you will find his instructions.’
‘Does he know about Khan?’
‘Some of it, but he left before I discovered the business about the mistaken identity.’
‘And this letter, what does it say?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Right, I’ll pick it up tomorrow,’ said Harland.
‘Why not this evening? You are feeling better, are you not? We should go now. I have a small bag at the back of the restaurant and we will leave through the kitchens. It has been arranged. I will go first and wait for you at the rear entrance. The bill has already been settled.’
With this he got up. On his way to Sevastapol’s kitchens he paused at two tables, shaking hands and saying hello. Harland noticed how he made contact with each person, drawing a palm across a shoulder, touching a bare forearm or clasping a hand for just a second or two longer than was usual. This casual laying on of hands over, he moved without haste to the kitchens and vanished through the swing doors.
Harland got up a little stiffly and walked through the kitchens to find Loz waiting with small black bag at the rear door. He worked the double lock, moved out into the warm evening and indicated to a car across the street. Just then a man hurried to them clutching one of his pockets.
‘Mr Loz. Federal Bureau of Investigation. Agent Morris. I need you to come with me, sir.’
Harland stepped forward. ‘I’m afraid that’s not possible. This man is in my custody. I’m taking him to the headquarters of the United Nations under the explicit instructions of the Secretary-General.’ He showed him the UN police badge that Jaidi had issued him during an internal investigation six months before.
‘I’ll check this out sir,’ he said, pulling the microphone on his lapel towards his mouth.
‘You do that Agent Morris,’ Harland replied, knowing it would be a matter of seconds before his colleagues at the front of the restaurant came on the scene to seize Loz legitimately. ‘But I have to take this man with me now. It’s a matter of the greatest urgency.’ The agent, who was saying something and pressing his hand against his ear at the same time, put himself between Harland and Loz. ‘Back off, sir,’ he said to Harland. ‘This is a Federal matter.’
‘Go to the car,’ Harland told Loz.
‘No, you stay right where you are, sir,’ the FBI man replied, moving for his gun. Harland clamped his hand round the holster and moved his forearm up against the man’s Adam’s apple, forcing him back to Sevastapol’s door. He held him there and wrenched the gun from its holster. ‘This is one occasion the United Nations takes precedence over the United States - okay!’ He ran over to the car and scrambled in, but as he reached round to pull the door closed he felt his back go, and fell in agony across the seat. ‘Take us to the UN building,’ he shouted to the driver.
The Ukrainian chauffeur supplied by Limoshencko warmed to the task of out-driving the FBI and shot up 6th, running lights on Houston and West Four, then crossed to the East Side along the top of Washington Square Park. In less than five minutes they were on 1st Avenue, speeding towards the sanctuary of the United Nations. No car followed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Harland, pick up! I know you’ve got that goddam back doctor with you.’ Harland recognised the voice of Special Agent Frank Ollins of the FBI. Ollins had led the air crash investigation two years before. For a time they had been uneasy allies during the investigation, but then Ollins had been warned off by the Bureau.
Clutching his back, Harland moved to the phone. ‘Hello, Frank. How can I help you?’
‘I guessed right,’ said Frank.
‘How’d you get my direct line - the switchboard isn’t working this time of night.’
‘I got a phone directory for the UN, for chrissake. What’s it to you?’
‘Then do me a favour and look up the number of the Secretary-General. Ask the duty officer what Mr Jaidi’s instructions are concerning Dr Loz. After that, find the number for Senator Howard Staple. You know who he is, Frank? He’s one of New York’s two senators. Mr Staple is a long-time patient and friend of Dr Loz’s. You ask him whether he thinks arresting an innocent American citizen on the grounds that he is a Muslim is either fair or just, or indeed tactful at this point. You ask him, Frank, then come back to me.’
‘Look, we just want to talk to him.’
‘Then book an appointment like everyone else. You know where to find him. You know his schedule. Your men have got his office covered twenty-four hours a day.’
‘Why don’t you just put him on the street now, Harland? We know he’s with you.’
‘Good for you. But to answer your question, no, I’m not going to give him to you.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Harland, you do realise you could be aiding a major terrorist? We can file any number of charges for your treatment of Agent Morris in the street this evening.’
‘I don’t think so, Ollins,’ said Harland, laughing. ‘You want me to have a word with the fellows in the press department? By noon tomorrow I’ll have a story about the FBI harassing UN officials on every news service in Europe and the Middle East. I take it you’re aware of the situation in the Middle East, Frank? I know it’s not your beat, but even you understand that the US is in a bind. What do you think the State Department is going to say to Justice and the director of the FBI when you try to arrest Dr Loz? You’re out of your depth, Frank. Leave this man alone.’
‘I hear you threatening me,’ said Ollins calmly. ‘And I’m sure you’re acting with the best motives, but you don’t want to be caught up in this, believe me. I’ll be waiting outside.’ There was a click as he hung up.
Harland turned to Loz, who seemed unfazed by what he’d heard. ‘How’s the back?’ he asked. ‘I’m afraid it’s not going to get any better with me treating you on a desk. But what I did should work for a day or two. You want a glass of water? You should drink more water, you know.’
Harland replied that there was whisky in his assistant Marika’s room - his whisky, but kept in her cabinet at her insistence. When Loz had gone into Marika’s office, he stretched a little and moved to an armchair where he opened Benjamin Jaidi’s letter.
My dear Harland,If you are reading this, Sammi Loz has signalled that he is in need of our help. This should be offered unconditionally by you on my behalf, and you should regard all United Nations facilities and the influence of my office as being at your disposal. Your role will be simply to watch Dr Loz and watch over him. I stress the distinction between those roles, though he has performed numerous services for this office and I believe we owe it to him to help him through his present difficulties. I enclose a letter which states that you are working for me and directs anyone who challenges or questions you during the course of this assignment to my office. This, I hope, will be of some use to you, my dear Harland.Yours with gratitude,Benjamin Jaidi (signed in his absence)
He folded the two sheets of paper and placed them in his pocket. Loz returned with the whisky.
‘You read the letter. I was right, wasn’t I? Jaidi wants you to help me.’ He handed the glass to Harland.‘What do we do now?’
‘I’m thinking,’ Harland replied. ‘Perhaps you’d better tell me what you want, apart from avoiding arrest?’
‘To go to Albania,’ said Loz simply.
‘Just like that? It’s not Atlantic City you know.’ He exhaled heavily and took a mouthful of whisky. ‘If you turn up in Tirana waving a picture of your old school pal they’re likely to put you straight in jail. And when it comes to prisons, I’d choose American over Albanian any day.’
‘I have to go. You must understand that there’s no other way.’
‘Even if you get there, you have to realise your man will have been seen by the CIA. Despite all protestations to the contrary, the CIA and FBI
do
talk. When you show your face in Albania the CIA will tell the FBI and that is likely to confirm all the suspicions they have about you. You’ll wind up in prison for a very long time. Much better to go to the FBI. Tell them the story of Khan and then go to Albania if you must.’
do
talk. When you show your face in Albania the CIA will tell the FBI and that is likely to confirm all the suspicions they have about you. You’ll wind up in prison for a very long time. Much better to go to the FBI. Tell them the story of Khan and then go to Albania if you must.’
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