‘I tender the violin, Your Honour,’ Carrington said. When he sat down, he noticed that the palm of his hand was bleeding where he had dug his fingernails in while waiting for Krakowski’s answer.
61
Haddad showed his ID to the flight attendant and pushed past the passengers leaving the plane. Looking down the aisle, he saw Jana lifting her hand luggage out of the overhead locker and hurried towards her.
‘I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this,’ Haddad said, helping Jana with the luggage. ‘It must have been a very long flight.’ Jana thought he looked tired and a little embarrassed. He was, she thought, an old fashioned man, and rather shy.
‘It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me,’ she replied, putting her hand reassuringly on his arm. Jana knew how to put men at ease. ‘Marcus sends his regards.’
‘I’m sorry we have to meet again under difficult circumstances,’ Haddad apologised, ‘but the situation is both urgent and serious, I’m afraid. We have to fly to Luxor straight away; he’s already on the move,’ Haddad explained, lowering his voice. ‘There’s little time.’
The dry, searing heat rising out of the desert made Jana’s eyes water. ‘What do you mean he’s on the move?’ she shouted, trying to make herself heard; the roar of the rotor blades was deafening.
‘Come, I’ll show you,’ Haddad replied, helping her into the chopper.
Before turning south towards Luxor, the pilot flew over the Pyramids. Jana looked in awe at the monumental structures shimmering like pieces of a geometric puzzle assembled by the hands of giants on a carpet of sand. A tribute to humanity’s quest for immortality.
They followed the silvery band of the Nile and reached Luxor just before nightfall. ‘There,’ Haddad shouted, pointing to a small cloud of dust, ‘the road, next to the river.’ Haddad told the pilot to make another pass and handed Jana his binoculars. ‘Can you see them?’ he asked. Jana nodded.
‘Looks like something out of Lawrence of Arabia,’ she said, training the binoculars on the procession of camels and horses snaking along the riverbank. The riders, their faces hidden behind scarves, were heavily armed. Some carried large green banners with crescent moons and quotations from the Koran embroidered into the coarse fabric, others were beating kettle drums tied to the saddles of their camels. Four riders holding burning torches led the column. Jana noticed a curved sword strapped across each of their chests. She looked down at the familiar ruins of the Luxor temple and shivered.
‘Where are they going?’ Jana asked.
‘To the airport. The Defender of the Faith has demanded a plane – to Afghanistan. The procession is to show his followers that he’s in control.’
‘But he’s trying to leave the country, isn’t he?’
‘Well, yes. But how does it look to you? He knows these people; he also knows how to manipulate crowds. These are simple folk, you see. They want to believe and they love a spectacle. And he’s giving them one.’
‘Clever man.’
‘Yes, and a dangerous one.’
‘And one of the riders down there is the elusive Defender of the Faith, I suppose,’ observed Jana, handing the binoculars back to Haddad.
‘Yes, but which one? That’s where I need your help, Jana. You’re the only one I can trust who actually knows what he looks like.’
‘What’s the plan?’
‘I’ll explain everything later ...’ Haddad pointed to the pilot and shook his head. They landed next to an Egypt Air plane parked in the middle of the runway.
‘That’s the Phoenix that’ll take them to Afghanistan, I presume,’ Jana said, pointing to the plane.
‘You could say that, but this Phoenix won’t be rising out of the ashes. The Defender of the Faith and his men will not leave this place alive,’ Haddad replied, lowering his voice.
‘Another bloodbath?’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Surrender?’
‘Perhaps.’
Jana wasn’t convinced. ‘What about the Americans and the bomb threats?’ she asked.
‘The Brotherhood has made one fatal tactical error – procrastination,’ Haddad explained, ‘and it’s given the Americans time to organise. They’ve evacuated all the embassies and moved in the marines. There will be no deal with the terrorists!’ he added.
Jana noticed tanks and armoured personnel carriers surrounding the runway. ‘Surely, the Defender of the Faith must know what’s going to happen here,’ she said, pointing to the tanks and soldiers, ‘or is he that sure of himself? Or that arrogant?’
‘He has no choice, Jana. It’s destiny after all. Rather than dying in a remote mountain cave as an outlaw or, worse still, being captured, he will now have his moment of glory.’
‘Is that what you want?’
‘No, but it’s the faster, safer option,’ Haddad said quietly.
‘What do you want me to do? Identify the body, is that it?’
‘If it comes to it, frankly, yes.’
‘What if he surrenders and you take him alive, what then?’
‘He will go to trial.’
‘You don’t really want that, do you?’
Haddad didn’t answer. He bit his lip and looked away. Just as the silence was becoming embarrassing, one of his men approached and reported to him excitedly in Arabic.
‘They’ll be here shortly,’ Haddad said. ‘You’d better come with me.’
The soldiers guarding the airport opened the barbed wire gates. Barking orders into the phone, Haddad demanded reinforcements to control the cheering crowd pushing against the barricades. It was almost dark by now.
The riders ignored the soldiers and passed slowly through the gates. They stopped in the middle of the runway, dismounted and took off their shoes.
‘What are they doing?’ asked Jana.
‘Look, they’re facing towards Mecca. I think they’re going to pray,’ said Haddad.
Suddenly, the crowd behind the wire fence fell silent. The rebel fighters knelt down together and began to pray. At the end of the prayer the outlaws stood up as one and, leaving their camels and horses behind, began to walk slowly towards the waiting plane.
Jana gripped Haddad’s hand.
‘I know,’ Haddad said quietly. ‘You don’t have to watch. This is for you, Marcus; I promised,’ he whispered, reaching for the microphone. ‘It is written.’
‘Lay down your weapons and put up your hands,’ Haddad’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers. The airport floodlights came on, illuminating the tarmac like a stage. Momentarily blinded, the surprised warriors tried to shield their eyes. ‘Lay down your arms, now!’ urged the voice again. Armoured personnel carriers – headlights trained on the confused combatants – were closing in from all sides. Some of the fighters began to run towards the plane, others turned back, trying to reach their frightened camels and horses. Not a single warrior threw down his gun. Looking in vain for cover, the men began to fire their automatic weapons at the approaching vehicles.
‘Fire at will,’ Haddad ordered. Machine gun fire erupted from all sides. Three men almost reached the plane only to be mowed down by gunfire from the open doors of the aircraft. Several camels were hit in the crossfire. The animals collapsed spectacularly onto the tarmac, blood gushing from huge wounds.
A few horses managed to get away; all the others lay dead or wounded on the runway, shrouded in clouds of cordite. Gradually, the guns fell silent. It was over in minutes.
Jana stared at the carnage. ‘This is obscene,’ she whispered, barely able to speak.
‘Violent death is never beautiful,’ Haddad replied.
‘I know.’
Soldiers swooped in from all sides. They cleaned up the bloody mess, gathered the bodies and took them to an empty hangar. There, laid out in neat rows, they were available for Jana to view. First, Haddad took Jana to the eight seriously wounded survivors. She looked carefully at each face; all young men. The Defender of the Faith was not among them.
&nb
sp; ‘We don’t have to do this right now,’ Haddad said, noticing Jana’s distress. ‘Many have been horribly ...’
‘Please, I would rather get it over with,’ Jana insisted, pressing a handkerchief against her nose. Walking slowly along the silent rows, Jana stopped in front of each body and shook her head. When they came to the last row, Haddad became agitated.
‘Jana, please; he must be here,’ pleaded Haddad. ‘None of them got away.’ When they approached the last body, Jana looked at it for a long time before shaking her head.
‘I’m sorry, he’s not here,’ she said at last.
‘Are you certain?’
‘Absolutely.’
62
Carrington glanced at his notes on the bar table. There was only one topic left to cross out.
‘And finally, Mr Krakowski,’ Carrington said, coming to his last question, ‘were you present during the exhumation of the bodies found at the lake?’
‘Yes, I was there until the remains of the first body were located. I left after that.’
‘Thank you, Mr Krakowski. I have no further questions.’
Archibald felt suddenly quite calm. The ordeal of waiting over, his cross examination could begin. Holding the top of his gown with both hands, he rose to his feet and looked at Krakowski. Creating tension was a favoured technique of his and this time would be no different.
‘Mr Krakowski, when did you see your mother and sister for the last time?’ he asked at last. Surprised, Krakowski looked up. It wasn’t the question he had expected. Archibald saw the flash of fear in the witness’ eyes and smiled.
‘Just after we arrived at Auschwitz, at the railway station. They were walking towards the camp with the others ... that was the last time I saw them.’
‘In your evidence yesterday I believe you said it was the last time you saw them – alive,’ Archibald said, pointedly referring to his notes. ‘Isn’t that right?’
‘That’s correct,’ Krakowski replied, turning pale.
‘What did you mean by this?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘What I’m asking you is this ...’ Archibald explained. ‘... did you see them again – later perhaps – when they were no longer alive?’
‘I object,’ Carrington interrupted. ‘This is hardly relevant.’
‘It goes directly to credit,’ Archibald snapped.
‘I allow the question,’ ruled the judge. Krakowski reached for the glass of water in front of him and just sat there.
‘Would you like to hear the question again?’ the judge asked quietly. Krakowski shook his head and took a sip of water.
‘Yes, I did see them again,’ he whispered.
‘When?’
‘A few days later.’
‘Where?’
‘In the camp.’
‘Where in the camp?’
‘Do I have to answer this?’ Krakowski asked, looking distressed.
‘Yes, you do,’ said the judge.
‘After the bodies were taken out of the gas chamber ... before they were taken to the ... crematoria ...’
‘Yes?’
‘They were processed.’
‘What do you mean they were processed?’ Archibald pressed on.
‘The hair of the dead women was shaved off and collected in large cardboard boxes. It was made into socks for U-boat crews. Rings – mainly gold wedding bands – were pulled off the fingers and the bodies were searched ...’
‘I cannot hear you,’ Archibald said.
‘The bodies were searched for valuables, mainly gold and jewellery which was sometimes hidden inside ... you know in ...’
Archibald noticed expressions of horror on the faces of the jurors and decided not to explore this answer any further. ‘Is that where you saw your mother and sister again?’ he asked instead.
‘Yes.’
‘What were you doing there?’ barked Archibald.
‘I was ...’ Krakowski stopped in mid-sentence, covering his face with his hands.
‘Please, you must answer,’ said the judge.
‘Breaking gold teeth out of the mouths of the corpses – with pliers,’ Krakowski whispered.
‘That was your job, was it?’
‘Yes.’
‘As I recall it, you told us yesterday that you were playing in the camp orchestra with your father and brother.’
‘That was a privilege, not a job. It had to be earned.’
‘A privilege to be earned. I see. How?’
‘By performing special duties for the Germans.’
‘Such as you just described, I take it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let me get this right: In return for the privilege of playing in the camp orchestra, you performed special duties for the Germans, such as processing the corpses of your recently murdered fellow inmates, including your dead mother and sister – is this correct?’
‘It wasn’t like that!’ Krakowski shouted.
‘Please answer the question, yes or no,’ thundered Archibald.
‘Yes,’ came the faint reply.
‘And the answer you gave earlier that you saw your mother and sister for the last time as they walked away from the train was false wasn’t it?’
‘Yes.’
‘It was not true, was it?’
‘It was an incomplete answer.’
‘It wasn’t the truth, was it?’ Archibald pressed on.
‘I object, Your Honour,’ interjected Carrington. ‘My friend is harassing the witness. The question has been answered.’
‘You have your answer, Mr Archibald,’ the judge agreed. ‘Ask your next question.’
‘As Your Honour pleases. And you volunteered for these special duties, I take it?’ Archibald asked, glaring contemptuously at Krakowski.
‘No, not exactly.’
‘What do you mean, not exactly?’
‘It was very difficult for the Germans to get people to perform these tasks,’ Krakowski explained, regaining his composure. ‘It was made clear to us as soon as we arrived that if we – that is my brother and I – did not volunteer, as you put it, our father would be sent to the gas chamber. We did what we had to do, to keep him alive.’
‘I notice the time, Mr Archibald,’ interrupted the judge. ‘The court will adjourn until 10 am tomorrow.’
‘One question too many, Archie,’ Carrington said, leaning across to Archibald. ‘Don’t you think?’
Archibald did not reply.
63
Jana stepped into the tiny whitewashed room and closed the door. She didn’t want the guard placed outside on Haddad’s insistence, to overhear her conversation.
He’ll be back in his flat by now, Jana thought, dialling Carrington’s home number, poring over the daily transcript. Remembering Carrington’s familiar routine brought a smile to her weary face. The full horror of the previous night had finally caught up with her; Jana felt shaky and very alone.
‘God, I miss him’, she mumbled, listening to the dial tone race across the globe.
‘You sound tired,’ Jana said, noticing the fatigue in Carrington’s voice.
‘You sound frightened,’ he replied.
‘I am.’
‘Where are you?’
‘In a police station in Luxor – under guard.’
‘What’s the charge?’
‘Very funny. I’m one of the good guys, remember? Most of the rebels are either dead or dying – except one.’
‘I saw it on the news. The Egyptians are claiming a big victory against terrorism. But let me guess – the Defender of the Faith wasn’t among them, right?’
‘Good guess. Perhaps he really is the Chosen One. Haddad is beside himself.’
‘I can imagine. What will you do now?’
‘Haddad is convinced the Defender of the Faith didn’t leave the cave with the others, but somehow managed to slip away. He’s going back tomorrow morning to search the area again. I’m going with him.’
‘Be careful, please. T
his is a dangerous game. The Chosen One is a desperate man and Haddad’s a proud one; that’s a lethal cocktail. Haddad has lost face, and that’s bad, especially for an Arab. Listen to me; he will not rest until he has tracked down his man. And to do that,’ Carrington added seriously, ‘he needs you. Don’t get caught in the crossfire.’
‘Don’t worry, I know how to keep my head down,’ Jana reassured him, trying to sound confident. Carrington was unconvinced. He already regretted having encouraged her to go to Egypt in his place.
‘How’s the case going?’
‘Benjamin had a hard day. Bearing your soul in public isn’t easy. Blowtorch-Archie was in great form and Benjamin got a little bit singed, I’m afraid. And besides, your replacement is woeful.’
‘You don’t know what you’re missing until it’s gone, see?’ Jana joked.
‘Spot on. But seriously, Jana, I think you should come back. You’ve done enough already. Leave it to Haddad.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I made a promise. I promised to help him find your family’s killer.’
‘You’re starting to sound just like him.’
‘Tell me, would you hesitate if you could be here instead of me?’
‘No – but ... I ...’
‘But what? You can’t but I can, that’s the only difference,’ Jana argued, her voice sounding hoarse. ‘I was there too, remember? Elizabeth and Isabella died right there, next to me ... You even went to the cemetery to tell them you couldn’t go,’ she reminded him quietly.
‘Jana, please ... Why are you doing all this? For Haddad? Come on, you’ve done more than enough already.’
‘Can’t you see? I’m not doing it for him.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m doing it for you!’
‘But why?’ Carrington asked, instantly regretting the foolish question.
‘Why? Because ... I ...’ Jana’s voice trailed off and the line went dead. All of Carrington’s attempts to call her back failed.
The Empress Holds the Key Page 27
