by Anna Smith
‘I want my case.’
‘Okay.’ Johnny broke in. ‘Listen. The bottom line here, Gordy, is that this case has some valuable stuff in it. I told you about the diamonds.’ He looked at Khan, who nodded his approval. ‘Rough diamonds. Worth a lot of money.’
Gordy’s eyebrows went up. He felt a little better that he was in the loop.
‘Yeah. I know that. But what the fuck were your diamonds doing up here? Who’s dealing in diamonds?’
Gordy was more curious that he was missing a trick on diamond smuggling than he was about the suitcase. The only diamonds he ever moved on were ones that were ripped off people’s fingers and wrists. Usually when they were bound and gagged – or dead. But rough diamonds? What the fuck was this all about?
‘They weren’t staying here. The guy was making an overnight stop and coming down the next day. He made some flight paths so he wouldn’t be detected. Came all the way from Sierra Leone – through Germany and Amsterdam. Came to Glasgow instead of coming to Heathrow as the checks are not so strict here. He was supposed to come down on the train the next day.’
‘I see.’
‘Right. So what have you got?’
Gordy looked at Johnny. He wasn’t going to address this fucking Paki. He didn’t like the look of him. Guys like him, all dressed up in their pinstriped suits. Who the fuck did he think he was? It’s working in a warehouse or a corner shop he should be, not mixing with the big boys.
‘Johnny, I’m doing what I can. I’ve got people searching for Nikki’s pal. She was with her earlier that night and they do everything together. If they took the case out of the room that night, then Julie will know about it, but she’s disappeared off the face of the earth.’ He glanced at the Pakistani, then back at Vanner. ‘So that either makes her guilty, or scared because of what Ali fucking Baba here did to her mate.’
Khan stood up and reached over the desk, grabbing Gordy by the collar, shouting, his face puce with rage.
‘Don’t you fuck with me, you racist cunt. You think I’m just some Paki boy who you can push around? You don’t know me, do you? Even after I cut your bird’s hand off you try to fuck with me? I’ll cut your fucking throat!’
Johnny leapt to his feet and came between them.
‘Right, right, okay, guys. Just calm the fuck down.’ He poked his finger at Gordy. ‘Listen, lad, and listen good. You don’t go talking like that to a guest I brought up here, never mind someone who has lost something, when it was one of your birds who was the last to see the guy. That implicates you. So don’t think for a moment it hasn’t crossed Khan’s mind that you’re in on this. Stop fucking about and let’s get a plan here so we can get this case back and then we all go back to doing what we do best.’
‘How the fuck can I get it if I don’t know where it is?’ Gordy said, frustrated.
‘Yeah, so you say,’ snorted Khan. ‘All we have is your word, you Scottish cunt.’
Gordy was on his feet again.
‘Look, you! Don’t fucking take me on on my own turf!’
‘Lads! For fuck’s sake!’
‘Right, okay,’ Gordy said. ‘Let’s just calm down. I’ve got people looking for Julie. I’ve got one guy who’s been to see Nikki and done a bit of fishing. It might take a bit of time, but if your case is somewhere here, I’ll get it for you. What more do you want me to say?’ He looked at Johnny pleadingly. ‘Big man. You know me. I’m giving you my word. I’ll find it if it can be found, but I’m not dancing to this cunt’s tune, let’s be clear about that.’
Khan’s mouth curled in a snarl. Then his mobile rang in his pocket as he was about to speak. He pulled it out and looked at the screen.
‘I must take this call. Excuse me, Johnny.’ He didn’t look at Gordy as he left the room.
As soon as he’d closed the door, Johnny leaned across the desk and lowered his voice.
‘Listen, you stupid Scottish cunt, play the fucking game here. That’s all I’m telling you. Play the game. If you think for one minute that this Paki bastard is getting his case back, you’re thicker than I thought you were.’
Gordy looked at him, confused for a second, and then the penny dropped. He felt relief flood through him and his face almost broke into a smile.
‘Fuck! You serious?’
‘Just get the fucking case and we’ll split it. Okay? So in the meantime, play along with this prick.’
‘Got you, Johnny. Don’t worry. I’m all singing, all dancing . . . But what’s all the passport shit about?’
‘Never mind. I’ll phone you later and explain. Here’s this arsehole coming back.’
The door opened and Khan came back in and sat down.
Gordy took a deep breath and put on his game face as he opened his hands in a pleading gesture.
‘Look, Khan, mate. I think we got off on the wrong foot.’
‘I’m not your mate.’
‘No. Well. Okay, I realise that. Listen . . . Johnny’s just reminded me that we’re all in this together, and it’s for the good of the working relationship we all need to have so we can function. I . . . Well, I just got a bit short-tempered there, because that bird got her arm chopped off. I only met her once, and she seemed like an innocent, stupid little fucker who was in the wrong job. I don’t think she deserved that. So let’s put it behind us. If she’s got your case, or her mate has got it, then I’ll bust my arse to get it for you. I know it’s of value to you, so once I get it, you’ll get it. Just trust me on that.’
Khan looked at Johnny, seeming surprised at this sudden change of demeanour. Johnny nodded reassuringly.
‘No sweat, Khan. I think we can go back down the road now. We’ve made the situation clear here.’ He stood up. ‘Come on, mate. Let’s go.’
Gordy stood up and came out from behind his desk. He walked with them to the door, and out along the corridor to the exit.
‘Okay, Johnny. Good to see you, big man. I’ll be in touch as soon as I get anything.’
He put his hand out to Khan, who shook it and nodded, but remained stony-faced and silent.
Gordy opened the door and watched them go down the steps and into the waiting Mercedes. He waved them off and then stepped back inside and closed the door, standing with his back to it, breathing a huge sigh.
‘Fuck me!’
He took his mobile out of his trouser pocket and punched in a number.
‘Paul. Where are you, ya wee prick? You were supposed to call me when you saw that fuckwit wife of yours. Now get your arse in here, pronto.’
Chapter Sixteen
Rosie was feeling ropey – a mixture of nerves and the movement of the bulky 4x4 as it wound its way through tight mountain roads, deep into the Swat Valley. She’d been awake half the night with a sense of dread of going into the unknown, even more so than she’d felt before. There was something about the vastness of this land that made her feel isolated and acutely anxious that they could quite easily disappear here, and nobody would ever find them.
When Ismal had left the hotel last night, Omar had given her and Matt some hard facts about the kind of area they were about to go into. Since the Russians pulled out of Afghanistan twelve years ago, after a long and bloody war, the country had been taken over by the Taliban Islamic fundamentalists, who ruled the country with their medieval sharia law. Omar explained that the ruthless Taliban had now spread across the Pakistan border and into the Swat Valley, and that people lived in terror. As they drove through remote villages, Rosie and Matt were in the back seat of the 4x4, kitted out in traditional clothes, squeezed up beside the Pakistani bodyguard who sat with his Kalashnikov between his knees, a blank expression on his weathered face. For over an hour they’d been behind a trundling bus, and she watched in disbelief the people clinging to the roof and sides as the old vehicle belched fumes, inching its way round narrow, precarious cliff edges with sheer drops on either side. Rosie didn’t even chance looking down, but gazed straight ahead at the breathtaking scenery, dotted with the occasional local
trudging on mountain passes. In the distance two old women were bent double, carrying a load of sticks on their backs and negotiating a suspended rope bridge stretched across a colossal ravine. Just looking at it made her dizzy.
Ismal’s mobile rang and he picked it up from the dashboard, one hand on the steering wheel, as he drove too close to the edge of a cliff for Rosie’s nerves. Matt was trying his best to put on a brave face but he was getting paler by the minute. They could hear Ismal talking in Urdu, then Omar turned around from the passenger seat and gave them a thumbs up. Ismal put the phone back on the dash, and Rosie caught his eye in the rear-view mirror as he spoke.
‘That was Asima. She’s found out where Laila is staying. She’s with an uncle up in Behrain, which is around another hour’s drive from the town we are heading towards now. She’s going to find a way to make contact. She doesn’t know the family well, but knows who they are, and they know that she’s a nurse. She will make some excuse to get close enough to people who know the family, and she hopes to get a message to Laila telling her our plan. We have a house there – it’s been in Asima’s family for generations. We use it when we have a few days’ holiday so we can go hiking in the Swat Valley. The area is very beautiful, though not so safe now.’
‘But won’t Asima be placing herself in danger?’
He shrugged.
‘People respect her as a nurse, and she has sometimes worked in the district, so it will be alright. She’s hoping she can get someone who knows the family to bring Laila to the market tomorrow, then Asima can make it look like she’s met them by chance. There are people in this area who think the way we do about the Taliban, and about children being forced into marriages, but they dare not say it. We are lucky in many respects because of our professions and education, but many ordinary people here have no escape from the terror that goes on every day.’
‘But it’s still dangerous for Asima?’ Rosie asked.
‘Yes . . .’ Ismal’s eyes locked with hers in the rear-view mirror. ‘But she feels very strongly about these things. Especially about what is happening in the Swat Valley now with the Taliban. They are turning it into an Islamic fundamentalist hellhole in the same way they’ve done to Afghanistan, which was once a beautiful country with incredible people. It’s terrible.’
The traffic slowed and Rosie rolled down the window and stuck her head out to see what the hold-up was. She felt hot and uncomfortable with so many clothes on, covered up to her wrists. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of her neck, and she yanked up her hair to let some air in. There was none.
‘What’s going on?’ Rosie asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Ismal replied, peering through the windscreen. ‘We are approaching Mingora, the biggest town in Swat, but something must be happening. Maybe an accident.’ He stuck his head out of the window and looked at the long line of traffic. ‘Uh oh,’ he said suddenly. ‘Look, Omar, one of the Taliban nutters is coming this way.’
Rosie’s heartbeat quickened.
‘What? Will they ask us anything?’
‘Don’t know.’ Ismal sounded concerned. ‘They seem to be directing the traffic into the town, but we don’t want to go to the town, we want to keep to the main road. Here he comes. Just sit tight back there, Rosie. Keep your head down and don’t make eye contact. Cover your hands, as they are very pale. Same for you, Matt. Just keep your head down.’
Rosie felt claustrophobic, and tried to breathe slowly as the man in the black turban approached them, carrying a Kalashnikov. She glanced at their guard, whose small eyes stared straight ahead. She stole a fleeting glance at the Taliban soldier and saw his piercing green eyes narrowing as he stood at Ismal’s rolled down window. Clenching her fists under her sleeves, she looked down at the floor, barely breathing. Ismal nodded when the Taliban soldier spoke and pointed them in the direction of the rest of the traffic. When he walked away, Ismal turned around.
‘Okay, guys . . . Here’s the bad news. We’re going to have to go with the flow here. The bastard Taliban have requested we go and attend a stoning in the centre of the town. It’s more of a command than a request, so we’ll have to go with it.’
‘A stoning?’ Rosie heard her voice go up. ‘Like a stoning to death?’
‘Yes, Rosie. I’m afraid so. It’s a public execution.’
‘Fuck me!’ Matt glanced at Rosie in disbelief.
‘Who’s getting stoned to death? What’s it all about?’ Rosie asked, as Ismal edged his way along the road and took the narrow dirt track up into the town.
‘A woman. She’s been convicted of adultery.’
‘Christ almighty! And they’re going to stone her to death?’
‘Yes. Not only that, they convicted her in their sharia court, which consists of Taliban elders. She might not even have done anything. There doesn’t need to be evidence – merely the hint that she may have committed adultery – like if she was seen with a man who wasn’t her husband.’
‘That’s barbaric!’
‘I know. We don’t have to watch, but we’re going to have to be among the crowd. We don’t want to arouse suspicion by refusing to go. We’ll stay in the car though. We can park at the top of the road a few yards away from the crowd.’
*
As they drove up the hill, they could see the crowd gathering below. A sea of people, excited chatter – a carnival atmosphere. Women and children milled around, but it was mostly men who jostled for position at the front. Ismal parked the car and they had a vantage point to look down from and see the circle that was being formed like an arena. Rosie spotted a pile of white stones, and a deep hole dug in the ground.
‘What’s the hole for? Don’t tell me they’re going to put the woman in that hole?’
‘Yes,’ Ismal sighed. ‘It’s awful. Closing your eyes is maybe the best thing, Rosie.’
‘I need to get a picture.’ Matt rummaged around in his bag. ‘I’ve got to capture this.’
Rosie shot him a dismayed glance.
‘Matt. If they see you taking pictures, we could be in all sorts of shit.’
‘They won’t see me. Don’t worry.’ He fiddled with a long lens and put it under his tunic. ‘Right, you shift over to my side, so I can get a better view.’
‘I don’t believe this,’ Rosie muttered as she slid across while he climbed over for an uninterrupted view.
‘It happens all the time,’ Omar said. ‘Honestly. These guys are fanatics, and it’s only going to get worse. They’re spreading everywhere.’
Rosie said nothing, transfixed by the people scrambling down the hill to join the mob. She could still see through the gap below Matt’s arm where his camera rested on the window. Then, suddenly, a cheer went up, as three or four men in black turbans dragged a woman out of a corrugated tin shack. She was struggling with them, but they pinned her arms and dragged her across the dirt. Rosie saw one of her shoes come off. Someone from the crowd picked it up and threw it at her, striking her. Everyone cheered. Rosie felt sick. The men roughly shoved the woman into the hole and she stumbled, trying to get to her feet. She was up to her waist. There was a low murmur of conversation among the crowd, then a heavy, dreadful silence. Rosie looked as the first stone was lifted and thrown at the woman, hitting her on the shoulder. She slumped forward. The crowd erupted, and there was a sickening screeching of burka-clad women ululating in celebration. Rosie looked away in a cold sweat. Then another man picked up a rock, and another. Suddenly rocks were raining down on the woman.
‘Fucking hell,’ Matt said, the camera whirring as he fired off several shots. ‘This is from the Dark Ages. They’re murdering that poor woman.’
‘My God!’ Rosie murmured, her hand to her mouth.
Ismal and Omar sat staring out of the windscreen, and the guard was like a statue beside them, only his eyes moving, scanning across the horizon, watching for trouble. The clunking sound of the stones on flesh sent shivers through Rosie, and she took one last fleeting glance at the woman slumped over the top of
the hole, her robes soaked in blood. Finally, the stoning stopped and the baying mob cheered. Then they filtered away.
‘I feel like throwing up.’ Rosie’s throat was choked with emotion. ‘Never in my life did I think I would witness something like that.’
‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’ Ismal switched on the engine and eased the car out of the tight area and down the hill onto the main road.
They drove the rest of the journey in silence.
Chapter Seventeen
The sweltering heat woke Rosie from a fitful sleep. Through the gaps in the wooden shutters she watched a tiny green lizard sneak in and race up the wall, where it lodged itself in the cornice, staring nervously down at her. Inside the mosquito net her view was fuzzy and she lay back on the bed, hypnotised by the wooden ceiling fan slowly rotating the thick humid air around the small room. She put her hand on the back of her neck and her hair was soaked with sweat. She pulled off the damp cotton vest she’d slept in and lay naked, her body clammy on the cotton sheets. She hoped she hadn’t been screaming in the night from the suffocating dream that she was being buried alive, stoned to death by men in black turbans. Christ! She blinked to erase the image of boulders striking the poor woman. She tried a deep breath, but her chest felt tight. Somewhere in the house, she could hear activity, crockery and cutlery rattling, and the aroma of Asian herbs and cooking drifted into her room. She glanced at her watch. It was just gone seven. She pulled back the mosquito net and swung her feet onto the stone floor. As she opened the shutters, the sun streaming in brightened the room, and she was just in time to see a massive cockroach scurry to the far corner and disappear. She shuddered, wondering where it had been all night. Don’t even think about it, she told herself, as she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, watching it spurt out lukewarm water.
*
Ismal and Omar were already at the massive wooden table when Rosie came through to the kitchen. Asima stirred a frying pan full of vegetables on the cooker and looked over her shoulder, a friendly smile spreading across her face. The scene could have been a tourist bed and breakfast in any mountain resort in a far-flung land, Rosie thought. Yet outside, people lived in fear of being stoned to death if they put a foot wrong. The first lash of tension slapped across her stomach. It was going to be a tough day.
