‘On that day the Iraqi-Syrian Alliance, which had been forged by Al-Saddi even before he made himself President, would launch a preemptive strike against Israel, using Iraqi Scuds and Syrian aircraft. The weaponry would be chemical, not nuclear.
‘Everyone knows that Iraq had stored chemical weapons and wasn’t squeamish about using them. We thought they had all been neutralised, but not so. The real stuff and Iraq’s last-resort nuclear weapons were holed up in that mountain store. What no one knew either, until we asked and the Russians confirmed it, was that, during his mercifully brief reign in the Kremlin, Andropov supplied the Syrians with some very sophisticated chemical weapons as a deterrent against, of all people, the Iraqis. He did it to keep them from drifting into the American camp.
‘On the Day of Deliverance, massive strikes using these weapons were to be made against Tel Aviv, Haifa, Eilat, and all the populous areas of Israel. Only Jerusalem, Gaza and the West Bank would be spared. There, supposedly spontaneous armed insurrection would break out. Simultaneously, there would be a chemical-backed conventional attack across the Golan Heights, using paratroops to encircle the defending garrison. They anticipated little or no resistance there, once news of the attacks on their cities had reached the Israelis.
‘The legal arguments, commissioned by Mahmoud and prepared by Jameson and Mortimer, were to be used as a sort of second strike. On the Day of Deliverance, petitions based on their work would be presented in the International Court of Justice, and in the United Nations itself. They would seek to have the 1948 Declaration set aside as invalid. The Syrians were sure that, on strictly legal grounds, they would succeed.
‘In other words, the case prepared by Mortimer and Jameson was to be used to justify an act of genocide in the eyes of the world.’
Skinner sat down in an armchair, his back to the door. He was stunned by what Allingham had just told him.
‘But what about the Americans? Wouldn’t their first reaction be to bomb the shit out of them?’
‘But would they be allowed to? Al-Saddi and the Iraqis thought they had that one figured out. The Americans and the rest are onside with the Arabs only to defend Kuwait, Saudi and the Gulf oilfields — not Israel. Anyway they only have enough ordnance out there to fight Iraq, not Syria as well. History tells us that the Yanks don’t think too quickly when it comes to strategic adjustments.
‘Al-Saddi and his new ally reckoned too, and rightly, that no Arab state, not even the Saudis, would allow its territory to be used as a base for the defence of Israel. The Americans and the other Allies would be completely exposed. They could not resort to nuclear retaliation. The Saudis would order us out. We would have to withdraw, or else fight a war against the whole Arab nation, and ultimately the whole nation of Islam — with limited resources and thousands of miles from home. By the time the UN got its act together, it would all be over. Iraq and Syria allied would control the whole region overnight. All that the Americans could do would be to garrison Turkey, and probably occupy Saudi. But offensive operations would be a non-starter.
‘Finally, as an insurance policy, Syria and Iraq were going to arrange for widespread native unrest to break out in all the Islamic republics in Asia.
‘So there you have it. An enormously sophisticated operation, brilliantly conceived by totally ruthless men, which would lead to the occupation of all Israeli territory. The Israeli survivors would be rounded up, interned, and expelled, or worse. Once the chemical contamination had been cleared, ostensibly the land would be settled by Palestinians, and renamed Palestine. But it would be ruled by the Syria-Iraq axis, just as the whole of the Arab world, even the Egyptians, the Iranians and the Libyans, would dance to their tune.
‘With the bulk of the global oil resource in the hands of a unified, militant Arab League, with Al-Saddi and the Iraqi leader at its head, the consequences for the rest of the world would be unthinkable. We would be talking about economic enslavement. That, Mr Skinner, is the secret. Are you happy now?’
Skinner was thunderstruck. And this unbelievable tapestry of world domination had been unfolded before him in his own living room, for Christ’s sake.
‘You say that Fazal contacted you in October?’ he managed at last.
‘Yes, after he had taken delivery of Mortimer and Jameson’s brief.
‘As I told you, the man was in a fearful state. He was, to be sure, pro-Palestinian. But in the final analysis he was also sane, and a humanitarian. He asked me what could be done to stop the madness.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘First, I double-checked with the experts on the cipher which he had used. It was the real thing, the Syrian Supercode. That meant that the document was genuine. It also let us crack the code without the Syrians knowing.
‘That done, we contacted the CIA. A conference was held within forty-eight hours. The situation was assessed, and an agreement was reached. It was clear that Al-Saddi was the key. He was the driving force, quiet and deadly, not brash and boastful like the Iraqi. He had taken Syria into the deal, and dragged his military with him, but it was reckoned that if he could be eliminated, they would fold and the whole operation would fall apart. The CIA said that if Al-Saddi could be taken out, then they could control what happened next.’
‘Why didn’t your people just tell the Israelis?’
‘Good God, man, we couldn’t do that.’ Allingham sat bolt upright. ‘If the Israelis had found out about this, there’s no doubting what they’d have done. They’d have got in first. They’d have nuked Damascus and Baghdad, even though that would have set off the biggest Holy War the world had ever seen. Even now the Israelis must never know.
‘The Yanks felt that we were best placed to take the lead in sweeping up, since the leak had come to us, since our nationals were in a sense involved, and since we were less polarised than them. They expressed the view that the necessary executive action should be coordinated by us. And, of course, the Yanks had heard of Maitland — even used him on occasion. Our Director General agreed. Maitland was called in.
‘Skinner, you have to believe me. When he appeared, I had no idea what he was, or what he was capable of. I thought that he would give your two advocates a good talking-to, warn them off, and tell them to forget all about it. Then, I thought, he would take care of Al-Saddi on his own ground. But no, that’s not his style. He never leaves possible loose ends — or loose tongues. Never.
‘The whole plan was his, including the trail that led to Yobatu. We had files on Mortimer and Jameson from Day One. We knew, and so he knew, about the Chinese case. The very first thing he did was to kill Shun Lee, and cut his balls off. That was Maitland’s idea of forward planning. Then he set about silencing Mortimer and Jameson, and eliminating any trace of their work. You know the rest of that part of the story.
‘Then Maitland set out to nail Al-Saddi. We knew from the document Mahmoud showed me that the Syrians were looking for a platform somewhere in the West, just before the big day, so as to launch their propaganda campaign. We knew that Al-Saddi himself would take it up.
‘Maitland and I saw Mahmoud together. He wouldn’t talk to anyone without me there. Maitland scared the shit out of him; he told him that as a Syrian he had a sacred duty to put an end to the madman Al-Saddi. He also told him that if Mahmoud refused, then he Maitland would, with regret, have no option but to pick up the telephone and spill the whole story to a friend of his in MOSSAD. Goodbye Damascus, hell Armageddon.
‘You know, Maitland would really have done that. He told Mahmoud that he must activate the student network that he ran still in Edinburgh, and set up this debate. He told him to ensure that a personal invitation was sent to Al-Saddi. He said that with the Syrians still publicly on the side of the angels, against Iraq, it was quite natural that our Government would roll out the red carpet for him.
‘Finally, he told Mahmoud to go missing until the debate itself. He warned him that the Syrians, the Iraqis, our people, anyone might come after him. He gave him a gun,
and told him to keep in touch and not to be caught. When we found out through Fulton that you were back on the trail, Maitland went up to Fife, while Fazal was holed up there alone, and gave him the name and photograph of everyone in your team, including you.
‘Maitland saw him again on Monday, to give him the Uzi. He was checked into a prearranged bolt-hole address in Perth. Fazal explained that he had shot the Harveys after they had let slip that they had been visited by your man Martin. He took a peep outside, saw two people on the beach, and that was that.
‘Mahmoud’s mission was to show up and kill Al-Saddi. Maitland told the poor bastard that the armed police guard would be briefed to miss him when they shot back. After he had killed the President, Fazal was to throw down his gun and be acclaimed as the saviour of the free world.
‘And he believed all that?’ said Skinner.
‘You saw for yourself tonight. He must have died a disillusioned man. He performed his sacred mission and was blown away for his trouble.
‘But in the end, Maitland had to do the business himself.’
‘That was always his intention. He couldn’t leave it to luck. He always knew that you would have a better than even chance of dropping the Ara before he hit Al-Saddi. He only wanted him there to get a few shots off and to carry the can — to be, as you said, Lee Harvey Oswald.
‘He had a back-up plan, you know. If tonight had fallen through for any reason, Al-Saddi’s plane would have exploded in mid-air tomorrow shortly after take-off from Edinburgh. But this one was so much neater. Beautiful in a dreadful way.’
Skinner held up a hand. ‘Didn’t the Syrians get worried when Mahmoud went to ground?’
‘Their section head in the Lebanese Embassy did, to be sure. We fed them some disinformation to the effect that Mahmoud had been gambling, badly, and was on the run from some rather nasty creditors. I don’t know if they bought it. The only thing I do know is that the section head passed a message, to Damascus, to be passed on to someone in Baghdad, telling him that Mahmoud had vanished. I can’t think why that was.
‘We had them all under close observation, of course, but there was no sign of the operation being aborted. The opposite in fact. Al-Saddi was enthusiastic about the debate. He had them all jumping through hoops. Biggest mistake of his life, eh.’
‘There’s one flaw in Maitland’s plan,’ said Skinner. ‘Al-Saddi was shot by a pistol, not an Uzi. That will show up at a postmortem, or we’ll find a strange bullet in the hall.’
‘He thought of that. Before he gave the Uzi to Mahmoud, he fired some rounds from it. If a bullet was dug out of Al-Saddi, and from what I saw, that’s unlikely, the plan was to swop one of those for it before they did the ballistics tests.’
‘Who in Christ’s name would arrange that?’
‘why, Fulton, old boy.’
Skinner was stunned. ‘Fulton! How much does that bastard know?’
Allingham smiled weakly, enjoying his discomfiture. ‘Everything, Skinner, everything. Maitland told him the whole story.’
‘And he went along with it?’
‘He didn’t have a choice! He isn’t bullet-proof. He was, or rather is, as scared as me. Once Maitland lets you in on one of his operations, you guard his secret with your life. Literally. If he ever finds out that I told you all this, he’ll kill me.
‘As for you, you’re not one of the magic circle. If he ever finds out that you know the whole story, you’re dead too.
‘I’d destroy that video tape if I were you, and fast. I promise you, the man has an amazing eye for detail, and he never leaves a loose end.’
A cold fearful thought formed in Skinner’s brain, sending an icy hand down to grip his stomach.
‘The doctor who examined McKnight and Al-Saddi is a scene-of-crime specialist. She knows all about the effect of different calibre weapons. She’ll have seen the back of Al-Saddi’s head blown off, and know that he wasn’t shot with an Uzi.’
Allingham looked at him. Something in Skinner’s voice brought the fear back into his eyes.
‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘Maitland thought of that too. She’ll have an accident. Very soon. Within the next twenty-four hours, I’d guess.’
The rage exploded in Skinner. Awful images of Sarah flooded into his mind, wiping away all his restraint. He jumped from his seat and grabbed the man by the lapels, hauling him to his feet. In the same movement, he butted him between the eyes.
‘Where is he? Where will I find him? Tell me now or I’ll cause you more pain than you can ever imagine?’
Blood poured from Allingham’s broken nose, as Skinner held him upright. But his stunned gaze was focused over the big detective’s left shoulder. His eyes widened and the mouth dropped open.
‘Here I am, Skinner. Here I am.’
99
Even as the quiet voice spoke, there came a strange, firm thumping sound, like a baseball whacking into a catcher’s glove.
Allingham’s right eye, and the back of his head, exploded in a reddish-grey spray. The impact of the soft-nosed bullet jerked him out of Skinner’s already loosening grasp, and hurled him backwards on to the couch. His body convulsed for a few seconds and was still.
Slowly, Skinner turned to face Maitland, and the smoking gun, wondering all the time whether he himself would hear the sound of the shot that killed him.
The man stood framed in the doorway. Skinner looked for madness in the eyes, but found none. Instead he saw an expression which was a mixture of pleasure and icy control.
He saw the silenced pistol, held in two strong hands, and levelled at his head.
‘You knew I’d take the bait, didn’t you. You even left the door on the latch. It’s too bad that our late friend here made you forget yourself. But however did you think you’d know when I arrived?’
‘There’s a loose board in the hall. Squeaks like hell. Everyone hits it the first time they come here. Not you, though.’
‘Come on, Skinner, you didn’t think I’d just rush into the trap, did you?’
Maitland smiled at him. He lowered the gun slightly, pointing it at his heart, and moved past the two-seater couch into the middle of the room.
‘You’re a tenacious fellow, aren’t you. Tell me, when did you realise that I was your man?’
‘I had a twinge when your bus was involved in that accident. That was a bit sloppy. But I’d never have put it together if I hadn’t seen that television tape.’
Maitland’s eyebrows rose.
‘Ah, so you didn’t overhear that part. Yes, your biggest mistake. You’ve made four or five, but that was the clincher, underestimating the resolution of these new generation TV cameras. They can catch a mouse winking in the dark, or in this case a shadow framed in the flash of a single gunshot.’
Skinner looked Maitland straight in the eye and smiled. He forced his body to relax, ready for any half-chance.
‘Still, you timed it perfectly. Deserved to be on TV.’ He amazed himself by laughing.
‘But it will never be shown, will it. Not if that’s what I think it is, lying on the table.’
Maitland took his left hand from the gun and pointed at the cartridge
‘Thanks, Skinner. You’ve saved me a tricky job by bringing that along. Now do one more thing for me. Take your pistol from its holster, incredibly carefully, and put it on the table too.’
Skinner shrugged his shoulders — and regretted it as he saw Maitland’s eyes narrow and his finger tense on the trigger of his gun.
‘Why should I? You’ll kill me anyway.’
‘But not yet, old boy, not yet. And people will do anything, you know, for just one more minute of life.’ His voice hardened. ‘So, do that for me. Now.’
Slowly and carefully, Skinner opened his jacket with his left hand. Using his right thumb and index finger, he withdrew the gun from the holster and placed it gently on the coffee table. As he did so, he kept direct eye-contact with Maitland and, with an imperceptible movement, flicked off the safety catch.
‘I’ll shoot you if I have to. I suppose I will at some point; you’re that type of chap. But whatever happens, you and your lady doctor will have a terrible accident. In her car. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of petrol around. You’ll both be burned to cinders.’
Skinner knew that he must hold the man’s respect. He must put fear out of his own mind - in particular, fear for Sarah. That had let him down earlier. He searched in Maitland’s eyes for uncertainty, looking for any sign of weakness, but finding none.
‘You know, pal, you’re some act. Where the hell did they dig you up from?’
‘Thank you, Mr Skinner.’ Maitland bowed his head very slightly. ‘I accept your compliment. Since you’re going to die, I’ll even tell you.
‘I came from the Marines to the Special Forces. All my past records have been destroyed, of course. I did my thing in the Falklands, and after that I went on to become something of a cult figure in Ireland. Remember the shoot-to-kill policy? He laughed, lightly. Well, I was it. But I was too efficient, and the politicians took fright. Pity. Anyway, round about 1985, I left the SAS payroll and became a sort of freelance, working on very special projects only, at a very special rate of pay.
‘I only insist on a few things. It is understood that once I am given an assignment I will accept no recall orders. Any mess that I make is cleared up after me by other people, people like your chum Fulton. Also, it is written in stone that any colleague who betrays any detail of an operation will end up like silly old Allingham there. Instantly. No appeal. Bang.
‘Fulton told me about Skinner’s rules. But it’s amazing what you can achieve when you play to a set of rules like mine. You should try it sometime, my friend.’ He laughed. ‘I’m sorry, you should have tried it! You wouldn’t like to join me in my work, would you? You’d really be very good. Why not let me win you over to the dark side of the force? I work quite a bit on the international scene, you know. I have some very free-spending clients in Colombia, and if I had a partner I could take on more contracts. Of course, your ladyfriend would still have to go, but you and I would do well in business together.’
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