“Okay, I’m ready.” She started to write the instructions down. When she’d finished she hung up and joined them.
“Well?” Bob asked. She pushed the piece of paper over, he looked at it, “Shit!” He slid it over to Dave, as he read it, Bob said, “Lucy, you don’t have to go through with this.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I said I’m in when I told him about the keys and I meant it.”
The message said they were to go to Heathrow and fly to Abu Dhabi, where rooms at the Millennium Hotel had been reserved for them. When they got there someone from the British Embassy would meet them. They would come to Bob’s room to give them their briefing.
"Looks like we’re going to get our tans topped up, again!” Dave grimaced.
52
When they arrived in Abu Dhabi, the first thing that welcomed them as they got off the aircraft was the heat blowing in from the desert. It was so intense they had to turn their heads away, it was like opening an oven door!
As Dave walked down the stairs, beads of sweat instantly formed on his back, soaking through his top. “Here we go again!” he thought.
“How do people live in these temperatures all the time?” Lucy asked, fanning her face with her boarding pass.
“If you look around, Luce,” Bob said, “you’ll see they don’t stand out in it, they’re all in their air-conditioned cars or tucked away in the shade somewhere. It’s only us tourists who venture out with hardly any clothes on!”
“I don’t know about you guys,” Lucy commented, “but I could do with an ice cold bottle of water right now!”
“With you on that one,” Dave said.
When they reached the terminal, they headed straight for the duty-free shop. Dave explained to her how the temperature changed so drastically between the day and the night.
“You’ll need to have a jumper handy, especially at night. Once the sun goes down it gets bloody cold.”
She looked at him, wondering whether he was kidding!
“Trust me on this one,” he said.
The heat brought back the memories of what happened the last couple of times Dave was there. Some good, some not so good. As he looked across the airfield from the seats they’d found to cool off in the terminal, he thought of Poppy, “so much life left in her, but now she was dead.”
Bob slapped Dave on the shoulder, “Don’t do it to yourself, mate. We all miss them. It wasn’t our fault, it was the bloody system!"
“It still hurts though!”
"I know, mate, I know! Come on, let’s get to the hotel.”
When they arrived, they checked in, went to their rooms and freshened up, then met up in Bob’s room. They sat and chatted while they waited for the contact to arrive. They didn’t have to wait long. There was a knock at the door, which even though they were expecting it, still made them jump. What Dave didn’t expect was what walked in.
She looked about nineteen years old, slim, not anorexic slim, but model thin. She was dressed in a smart, cream, two-piece suit, expertly cut to perfectly show off her figure. Her hair was long and black and gathered at the back in a ponytail, which came down to just above her waist. This would have shown her face perfectly if it wasn’t for the designer shades she had on. At least a hundred and eighty centimetres tall, wearing a pair of red eight centimetre high heels. She looked amazing!
As she came over, she took her shades off and held out her hand. Dave found himself looking closer at her hair, and there it was, blonde eyebrows and blonde roots. But what a stunner!
She introduced herself as Diane. She found a chair and opened up the file she had with her and immediately went on the attack.
“Problem, Mr Roberts?” she said, staring at Dave.
“No, no, just admiring your hair. Loving the black look,” he said, smiling.
“It’s that blonde-brain thinking of yours, which got you into this mess, Mr Roberts. The advantage I have over you is, I can dye my hair again with no effect to the way I play the game. You, on the other hand, would have to go through some very expensive surgery and take a considerable amount of time to recover. From what I’ve read about you, Mr Roberts, it probably still wouldn’t be enough to cure you.”
“Ow!” Dave thought. “I love this woman!”
Bob looked at him, “I think you just got owned, mate!”
Dave sat down, smiled, and asked, “Will you marry me?”
Bob looked away and shook his head, Lucy laughed. Diane looked at him and moved her hand through her hair.
She looked at Lucy and Bob. “All the details for you are here,” she said, handing them a small file. “Read through them. If you have any questions …” She looked at Dave, and said, “Sensible questions, my number is on the back.”
A few moments later, she bid them goodnight and left.
Bob and Lucy looked at Dave as if to say, “What the hell was that about?”
“What?” Dave said, innocently.
That night, over a few cokes, the three of them studied the files she’d left. There were maps of the area and the names of a few contacts they could use to get information. They decided to avoid any help from the locals, especially after their last so-called friend, Anshu, had been so friendly! After they'd read through everything, they settled down for the night.
They had an early start the next day.
53
They decided to hire a car, a Range Rover. It was the same model as they had before, which reminded Dave, “I still need to send off the road trip report to Jeremy Clarkson from the last time we used one over here.”
They set off to find this suitcase.
They put Lucy on watch, Bob and Dave had seen it all before so a fresh pair of eyes would spot things they would take for granted, knowing she’d point out everything, from stray camels to people.
Bob kept looking up into the sky but this time Dave knew what he was looking for.
“Seen any yet?” he asked.
“Nope, but I know they’re watching us.”
“Who’s watching us?” Lucy asked.
“Our friends,” Bob said. “They like to keep an eye on us to make sure we’re not just offing with the money.”
Lucy looked at them, confused, and then looked up.
They filled her in on the UAV’s, which patrol the skies, and how they'd been able to call for help the last time, by waving at them.
“You won’t see them though," Bob smiled, as Lucy peered into the blue. "They fly too high to be seen.” She carried on looking anyway.
They took the legal way into Iraq, stopping overnight in Kuwait before starting the trip to Baghdad. They set off at midday, stopping in Hafar AL Batin to sightsee, just in case they'd picked up a tail. They tried to give the impression they were tourists following R85 to Arar. When they left they took their time - the trip to Arar taking two days to cover the border fence road - then headed up the 22 to Karbala.
They made out they were doing a program on climate change, taking soil samples for the background commentary for when they returned to Ireland. They’d been supplied with all the documents for the border patrol for the necessary checks to get in. They also had plenty of dinars!
Once they were on R22, they decided to visit the house where the first meeting took place, near Habbaniyah Lake. This took two days to reach, stopping en route every twenty or thirty kilometres to take samples. They wanted to see if the people they'd met before had left any clues. All they found were bullet casings and blood stains, nothing else, not even bodies, so they left and drove on to Karbala.
They booked into a hotel for the night, they didn’t intend on staying long. If necessary, they'd move on to another one the next night and so on until they got to Baghdad. The night went with no surprises so the next morning they headed straight for their target.
****
Arriving, Bob suggested they go straight to see their old mate, Anshu.
Dave looked at him, “Why?”
“He might feel he owes us some go
odwill.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. For a start, if he knew we were still alive he’d probably want to see us hang for what we did.”
“Nah! He wants to make it up to us, besides, we could clear his name with the locals.”
After a late lunch, they set off towards the café Anshu used to hang out at. When they got there, Bob and Dave couldn’t believe their eyes, there was Anshu, chatting as if nothing was wrong!
As they sat in the car looking at him, he must have sensed something was up. He looked straight at the car and smiled, then looked down again to drink his tea. The cup stopped halfway to his mouth, you could almost hear his brain clanking away, working out what he’d just looked at, or working out what he thought he’d just looked at! He slowly lifted his head, his eyes widened and the tea he was drinking dropped from his hands as if he’d seen a ghost. It was at this point Bob said, “I think we’ve found the bastard who owns the suitcase.”
"What do you mean?”
“He was hoping we were dead. The last people he ever expected to see again have just walked back into his life. Basically, by being here, we’re saying, "Hi mate, how’s it hanging? You haven’t seen a suitcase around here, have you? We seem to have misplaced it... again!" He must have bought his life back off that mob we left him with. Probably promising them eternal greatness that would make them live forever, or at least till it went flash!” He looked at Anshu, “Oh dear, I think he may have just pissed himself… again!”
“He should really see a doctor about that,” Dave said, with fake concern in his voice. “It could be the early sign of a prostate problem.”
Bob laughed and put his left hand up, pointed at Anshu and signalled for him to come over. Anshu, like an obedient puppy, smiled and got up. And ran out the back, knocking over tables and chairs as he went. He was screaming something that made everyone in the café look at the Rover they were in. It became obvious it was time to go.
Dave floored the gas and went around to the back of the building as Anshu was coming out the back door. Anshu looked at them and started running the other way, Bob anticipated this, “Follow him.”
Within a blink of an eye, they were on top of him. Bob jumped out, grabbing him, he pushed him against the wall, quickly patting him down. Bob must have thought the same as Dave, “how quickly he’d pulled his handgun out on the old man before.”
Anshu’s eyes were bulging out of his head, he looked at Bob and then at Dave.
“OK. My friends. You are alive. Praise be to Allah.”
“Shut the hell up, Anshu!” Bob scowled.
Anshu started saying it was all a big misunderstanding and he was very sorry. He then started crying, “They were going to kill my children, my wife, and we needed money for food.”
“Bollocks,” Bob said. "We gave you all that money the last time we were here, you’re one of the richest sons of bitches in this shithole.”
Dave looked at him, and thought, “He must take us for bloody idiots!”
“Get him in the car now, Bob," Lucy shouted. "We can talk to him away from here!”
“Do it now, Bob.” Dave said, looking up the road. “We’ve got company.”
Bob turned and saw what they were looking at. He pulled Anshu onto the back seat.
Once they were in, Dave gave Lucy his handgun, she dutifully shoved it in Anshu's mouth. This seemed to do the trick as Anshu stopped trying to shout and just stared at her. His eyes were open wide and he was starting to sweat again.
“Shit! I wouldn’t want to mess with her in a dark alley,” Dave thought.
He set off towards the house by the lake, where Anshu had left them to be killed the first time.
It took several hours to reach the lake, using Anshu as the interpreter at the checkpoints. “It's amazing how helpful someone can be with a Glock pushed into their stomach,” Dave smiled.
Anshu was a mess by the time they arrived and judging by the smell, he was literally shitting himself. Lucy had eyeballed him all the way there, she hadn’t said a word, keeping the gun firmly in his mouth every kilometre of the way.
When they got to the house, Bob pushed Anshu into the room they'd been attacked in. Anshu was about to say something, but when he saw the looks on Bob and Dave's faces, he didn’t.
They made him sit in the middle of the room, legs crossed, and his hands on his head. Standing around him so he had to twist to look at whoever was asking the questions, but not so close that he could kick out.
“Where’s the suitcase?” Bob started off with.
“OK. What suitcase?” Anshu said, acting dumb.
Bob kicked him in the side, Anshu cried out and started shouting something in Urdu.
“Where’s the suitcase?” Bob repeated.
Anshu looked at him and spat on his boots.
Lucy said, “Wrong answer,” and shot him in the foot.
Dave flinched as the handgun flared in the dim light. Bob leapt out of the way of Anshu’s foot as it flicked into the air. Anshu screamed, looked at Lucy and started to call her a madwoman as he held his foot and rolled around on the floor.
“That’s for Harry, you bastard!” she cursed.
Bob looked at her and smiled, but asked her not to do that again. He looked at Anshu, paused, and then said, “Unless he doesn’t tell us the next time I ask him.”
Lucy smiled and pointed the muzzle at his other foot. Anshu squealed like a stuck pig, his eyes wide with terror as he tried to back-crawl to the wall in an effort to get away, but Lucy kept his other foot firmly in her sights. “I wouldn’t move around too much, Anshu. I might miss and hit something else!” she said, gesturing at his groin.
He stared for a moment at where the end of Lucy’s weapon was pointing, “OK. Keep her away from me,” he pleaded.
“Lucy, can you put the handgun away please?” Bob asked.
She frowned and dropped it to her side. She thought she’d keep it in view, in case Anshu started to get brave.
They all looked at Anshu. Bob kicked his bad foot, “Start talking, you piece of shit!”
Anshu squealed, and after a few moments, said, “OK. They took the suitcase but I didn’t have the keys. When I told them this they didn’t believe me. They said they would stone my wife and kill my children.”
“I wonder why?” Bob said, sarcastically.
Anshu didn’t get the sarcasm and carried on talking. “OK. I pleaded with them to spare my family, so they cut off my left hand.” He pulled up his sleeve and showed them the stump.
Dave looked at Bob, and smiled, “That has got to have hurt!”
“Should have cut off your bloody foot. Lucy wouldn’t have shot it then,” Bob sneered.
Lucy looked at Anshu, and said, “They should have cut off your head. Harry’s dead because of you,” she said, tears running down her cheeks.
Anshu went quiet, then said, “OK. I didn’t mean to get my friend killed, but I love my children and my wife.”
"Where’s the suitcase?” Bob asked again.
“OK. I will take you to the people who have it, but they won’t give it back so easily.”
“If you’re thinking of setting us up again, I wouldn’t. I’ll have great pleasure cutting your other hand off.” Bob got his close combat knife out and showed it to Anshu.
“They might if we tell them we know where the keys are!” Dave baited.
“OK. They will kill you straight away when they get the keys, they’ve been looking for this suitcase for a number of years. They have plans to use it against America.”
When Anshu said this, Dave looked at Bob, who must have read his mind.
“Who are these people who have the suitcase, do they have a name?” Bob asked.
“OK. They all follow the same cause, their leaders are the Taliban.”
“That’s not what I asked, Anshu.” He looked at Lucy and nodded. Lucy started to raise the gun again.
Anshu shouted a name, “Mr Graham!”
You could have knocked them down
with a feather.
“Are you sure that’s the correct name?” Bob asked. Anshu was staring at Lucy with the gun and nodded.
They bandaged his foot, tied his wrists behind him and set off to meet with their Mr Graham. Very aware that what they were doing was potential suicide.
Bob rang the number he’d been given, in case anything else came to light, and explained the situation. He was told as soon as they found the suitcase, he was to keep it in sight. He had to make contact immediately, and if possible, keep control of it. He was also told to terminate any involvement, Mr Graham had in it all.
When he told them, Dave volunteered his services to be the one who pulled the trigger. “Payback time,” he thought.
54
They drove back to Baghdad, to the café they'd found Anshu in.
“OK. You have to let me go and talk with them,” Anshu said.
Bob looked at him. Untying him, he said, “One wrong move and Dave will put a bullet in you. Understand?”
“OK. Yes, yes. It will be okay, my friend!” he said, staring at Dave.
“There’s one thing you need to remember, Anshu," Bob said, looking at him. "I’m not your friend!” Anshu gave a forced smile, fidgeting, his hand hovering over the door handle. He got out and went towards the shop. As he approached, one of the customers got up and opened the door, greeting him as if he was some big chief.
Dave looked at Bob, “When he said 'my friend'. That’s the point when I knew he was lying. Now people are opening doors for him. Something doesn’t smell right?”
“I agree," Bob said. “Drive to the corner and I’ll go around the back. Let's see if he tries to run!”
As they started to move off, a moped cut out of a side entrance along the road. Dave looked at it, he saw the rider stare at them. "Bob. That’s him, looks like he beat us to it.”
“Follow him,” he said. “Buckle up, Lucy, this could get bumpy.”