The Mortal Maze

by Ian Richardson

  Jane and Omar are grudgingly grateful. They and their crews follow Yassin back to the catacombs entrance. Jackson goes over to Samira who is being keenly questioned by the new arrivals.

  CHAPTER 24

  Nightfall and the city’s mobile phone network has been switched back on. Mack heaps praise on the team, particularly on Samira for standing in for Jackson with such skill. He seeks assurances that Pete will not need urgent medical treatment, then instructs Yassin to take everyone home just as soon as a local freelance cameraman arrives to provide emergency overnight coverage for the bureau.

  Mack wants Jackson dropped off first. “Check your answering machine immediately and let me known if there is anything interesting,” he tells him. Jackson understands the significance.

  ******

  As Jackson enters his apartment, he sees the red “message” light blinking on his answering machine. There are 10 messages awaiting his attention. He pushes the “Play” button and pours himself a beer as he listens to the messages. There are four from his mother, all weepingly appealing for him to return to the safety and comfort of London, a congratulatory call from the Foreign News Desk, praise from the office of the Director-General, two messages from Thomas Fulham demanding an urgent call-back, and finally two from Binnie.

  “Yes, it was us this time, Roger,” Binnie announces, “and there’s more payback to come.” There is a click as the call ends.

  Then there is a second brief message: “Congratulations on finding the catacombs. If the Yanks had bothered to learn this country’s history, they’d also have known they were there – right under them.”

  Jackson switches on his computer and goes to the Soldiers of Allah website. It also proudly proclaims responsibility for the destruction of the American Embassy and announces that more attacks are being planned in Central Arabia and elsewhere.

  Jackson phones Mack at the office. “As you guessed, there were messages from Bin Hassan. He says the wrecking of the embassy was the work of Soldiers of Allah. Want me to come in to do something on this?”

  “No, no,” replies Mack, “you’ve done more than enough for today. I’m putting together overnight packages using Pete’s film and your pieces-to-camera. You get a good night’s rest, laddie. Tomorrow will be another very busy day.”

  Jackson phones Thomas and finds him extremely agitated. “Well, the gloves are really off now!” he declares. “The White House and 10 Downing Street have been in touch with each other and are about to go on television to declare their determination to neutralise Soldiers of Allah. But they want your mate Binnie to be captured alive so they can extract from him, by any means necessary, the sources of his funding and his links to any other groups. His type seek death so they can go to paradise, but we’ll give him hell on earth instead.

  “He won’t be easy to catch.”

  “I agree, Jacko, so we’ll probably need your help with this.”

  “Oh no!” Jackson shouts. “I’ve told you, I’m finished with your lot.”

  “That’s not for you to decide,” responds Thomas. “I’ll be in touch when we come up with a plan.”

  Jackson pours himself another beer and reflects on how quickly a triumphant day can end so distressingly.

  ******

  Next morning, Jackson and Pete meet outside the wrecked American embassy to do a filmed update. Neither is in good shape. Pete has many bandaged cuts and bruises from yesterday’s falling debris, while Jackson is recovering from an unsettling night, his brain whirling from his conversation with Thomas, from Binnie’s threats of more terrorist acts and from nightmares that relived yesterday’s shocking bloodshed. Yassin is at a garage getting a new windscreen fitted for the car. The freelance cameraman who was on duty overnight hands over his film of the rescue operations to Pete and goes off duty.

  “Sorry to say it, but you still look a bit of a mess,” Jackson tells Pete.

  “Yeah, I’m a bit ratshit, mate, but I’ll be okay. There are plenty of others worse than me. I just couldn’t get some of those images out of my mind last night.”

  “Me too,” confirms Jackson. “I see on the news wires that the ambassador’s wife lost both her legs.”

  “Shit! That’ll piss off the White House even more.”

  “It certainly will!”

  Jackson turns to study the wrecked embassy. There is disbelief that this fortress of a building was reduced to rubble in less than a minute. It reminds him of when he was once sent to report on an earthquake in southern Italy. It is as though the embassy building had been hit by a giant sledge hammer.

  As he contemplates the totality of the destruction, Pete films the rescue operations, mostly carried out by marines using heavy lifting equipment. There is a shout as more bodies are discovered.

  “Let’s do a piece-to-camera and get back to the bureau,” says Jackson.

  ******

  On their return, both Mack and Samira express their concern about Pete’s injuries. Yassin is back with a new windscreen in the car and is ordered to take Pete to the Armibar Central Hospital for a check-up, no matter how long he has to remain in a queue behind the other bombing casualties.

  Samira tells Jackson that his mother has been phoning, wanting to talk to him urgently. As though on cue, she phones again. Samira insists he take the call.

  “Yes Mother,” he says without warmth. “What’s the problem?” He listens. “You know damned well that I wasn’t injured because you can see that I’m okay by looking at your television set.” He listens again. “What do you mean ‘what should you do about your headache’? Do what the rest of the bloody world does and take an aspirin! He listens further, then begins bellowing into the phone. “How dare you accuse me of not caring about you! When did you ever care about me, eh? When!? You left Granny Dunbar to bring me up while you and Dad ponced around the world doing suck-up interviews with the rich, the famous and the glamorous. And where were you when I fell sick? Eh? In Monaco? In St Moritz? In Washington? Or in Timbuktu? Who bloody knows! There wasn’t even a phone call. Not even a second-class postcard! And where were you when I got expelled from school? Who bloody knows?! You left it to poor Granny to rescue me from myself. She was my mother. You never were. And did you ever say ‘thank you’ or ‘sorry’ to Granny? Of course not! You didn’t even turn up at her funeral. I’ll give you a chance to say sorry. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6 ... Go on, Mother, say it … 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, zero... See! You can’t! Never apologise; never explain. That’s you all over!”

  Jackson slams the phone down with such force that it shatters. “Oh fuck,” he mutters and begins sobbing uncontrollably. Samira goes to Jackson and puts a supportive arm around his shoulders. He responds with an arm around her waist. “That woman drives me mad,” he says as tears run down his face. Samira nods sympathetically but says nothing.

  Farouk is embarrassed by this unchecked display of emotion. Mack comes out of his office and decides to take him for a coffee next door while Samira helps Jackson through his distress.

  Samira and Jackson sit quietly holding each other for 10 minutes as the tears subside. Finally, he turns to her with a gentle smile. “I’m really sorry about my screaming match. I really lost it. Sorry.”

  “We’ve all been under a lot of stress,” she replies. “You’ve seen some terrible things and you’ve coped with them remarkably well. Sometimes it takes just one extra unexpected problem to tip you over the edge. I feel the same sometimes. At times like that I really miss Nigel.”

  “Did he see you on television yesterday?”

  “Yes. He rang this morning to tell me how proud it made it him.”

  “That’s good. He has every right to be.”

  Mack, Farouk and Yassin return with coffees for Samira and Jackson. “Thanks, guys. I feel a lot better now,” Jackson tells them, wiping away the last of his tears.

  “It’s okay,” says Mack. “Anyone who tells you they don’t react emotionally to what you’ve seen is a terrible liar.”

  Mack picks up the b
roken phone and says with a wry smile: “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t break any more of these or I might have to dock your pay.”

  “Sorry about that, boss. I’ll drink my coffee then pop down to the phone shop for a replacement. I won’t even put it on my expenses,” he grins.

  Pete and Yassin return from the hospital. Pete has a few extra bandages on his forehead and arms, but assures everyone that none of his wounds is serious or require stitches.

  Yassin interjects. “Doctor say you must rest!”

  “Oh I’m okay. Really nothing wrong.” He changes the subject. “I did a bit of sniffing around while I was there and I was told that a lot of shit was flying about among the casualties over how the embassy didn’t know about the catacombs. More importantly, I also learned that my sex life is taking a serious turn for the worse. My Aussie friend, Kelly, phoned to say that she and many of her colleagues at the bank are being flown home tomorrow and that the bank may be permanently moved out of Armibar.”

  “Sorry about your sex life,” says Mack, “but I’ll chase up the bank angle. It won’t go down too well with the government here.”

  ******

  The next three days are extremely busy with follow-ups to the embassy explosion, and an extra producer is flown in from London to help. Pete has continued working and there are fewer bandages on display as his wounds heal. His film of the embassy explosion has been seen on just about every TV news outlet in the world and the acclaim has been pouring in.

  There has been another avalanche of praise for Jackson’s reporting. He is now much calmer and has managed to have some alcohol and gambling-free days. He has encountered his CNN and Al-Jazeera rivals while out filming. Their reaction has been professional, if not exactly friendly, and there has been no further mention of their complaints about his scoops.

  Samira’s ad hoc reporting has attracted the attention of the Head of News. Marina Kerner offers to fly her to London for some intensive TV training, so that she can provide back-up for Jackson. Samira is flattered, but says she would prefer to stick with her job as bureau manager for the time being – at least until her husband finishes his current contract and rejoins her.

  ******

  It is the fourth day after the embassy explosion and the morning editorial meeting is breaking up without having produced any significant story ideas. Mack’s phone rings and he takes the call. “Hello, BBC Armibar.”

  The call is from a man with a strong Arabic accent. “Yes, BBC, I have story for you…”

  “Thank you,” says Mack, “what is it?”

  “Many soldiers in Hasini Square. Much trouble.”

  “What sort of trouble?”

  There is a click and the line goes dead. Mack turns to his wall map and sees that Hasini Square is about four kilometres away. He turns back to the team. “Mmmm. You’d better get over there to check it out,” he tells Jackson, Pete and Yassin.

  ******

  The BBC car pulls into Hasini Square a short while later, but there is no sign of noteworthy activity, military or otherwise. There is just the usual smattering of locals going about their daily business.

  Yassin parks the car while Jackson decides what to do next. He is about to phone Mack, when two black Mercedes cars appear from nowhere and block their vehicle front and back.

  Two men leap from the front car, an estate, and they wave hand guns at nearby groups of pedestrians who flee into the side streets. Jackson immediately recognises the men as the ones who took him to see Binnie.

  “Shit,” mutters Pete, “it’s an ambush!”

  As the gunmen approach, Jackson tells Yassin and Pete to relax. “We’ll be okay. Just do as they say.” Jackson winds down his window and is told: “Come with us, Mr Dunbar.”

  Pete is also told to get out of the vehicle. He automatically picks up his camera, but is instructed to leave it behind. Yassin is ordered to stay with the car.

  Jackson, Pete and Yassin are frisked. Their mobile phones are removed from their pockets, switched off and taken away by one of the men. The back seat in the Mercedes estate is folded down and they are made to lie on the floor and are covered with blankets. Pete begins shaking and Jackson whispers assurances to him that they will come to no harm.

  One of the gunmen goes to Yassin and tells him that he must stay where he is until Jackson and Pete are returned – probably in about an hour. He is also warned that they will be killed if he calls for help.

  Jackson and Pete are driven away and about 15 minutes later the car is parked and they are led, still with their heads covered by blankets, into a building. The blankets are removed and they see they are in a sparsely-furnished medium-sized room with the curtains drawn. There are two straight-back chairs facing each other and a small, modern video camera set up on a tripod. They appear to be in a different building from the one where Jackson first met Binnie.

  A few minutes pass. A door is thrown open and Ahmed Faisel Bin Hassan strides in. He is unsmiling as he shakes Jackson’s hand. Pete is astonished and alarmed to find himself in the presence of a man who has just propelled himself into being one of the world’s most wanted terrorists. Bin Hassan extends his hand to Pete who shakes it with nervous hesitation.

  Binnie adopts a business-like manner and gives no indication that he and Jackson know each other. “You can interview me about the embassy. I’m sure your colleague will know how to work our camera. You have a maximum of 10 minutes. Just tell me where to sit and we can begin,” he tells Jackson.

  Jackson takes the seat on the left and motions to Binnie to take the other. Pete explains that he will need to quickly familiarise himself with the camera and to take some set-up shots before the interview can begin. This gives Jackson time to put his thoughts in some sort of order. Several minutes pass, during which Jackson and Bin Hassan face each other in silence, then Pete announces that the interview can begin.

  “Please begin by telling me your name,” says Jackson.

  “I am Ahmed Faisel Bin Hassan, leader of Soldiers of Allah.”

  “You have an English accent. How is that?”

  “The answer is simple. I was born in England and went to school in London.”

  “What school was that?”

  “You know what school. It’s been widely reported by you and others. We were friends there. You know that!”

  This disclosure catches Jackson off-guard. He calls a halt to the interview, but Pete keeps the camera rolling.

  “Shit, Binnie,” Jackson explodes, “Are you trying to stitch me up? I didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “It’s better that they do, Roger, so that you can tell your audiences what you remember of me and why I have embarked on this course of action. I’m hoping that this interview will demonstrate that you have an understanding of why I’ve been set on this course of action. I still regard you as a very good friend.”

  “I hope you’re not expecting me to become your mouthpiece because I’m not. I also don’t think it’s a good idea – not yet at least – for it to become known that we were school friends. You may have a serious grievance, but that doesn’t justify you killing people who weren’t in any way involved in the slaughter of your family. Just because they’re American doesn’t mean they’re guilty of anything!”

  “Let’s not argue over this, my old friend,” says Binnie with a resigned sigh. “Ask your questions and you can be on your way.”

  The interview resumes where it left off.

  ******

  As promised, Jackson and Pete are being driven back to Hasani Square. Pete has the interview on a memory card from Bin Hassan’s camera. Again, Jackson and Pete are made to lie on the floor and covered in blankets.

  Yassin is waiting in their car, as ordered, and being watched by the men in the second Mercedes. Jackson and Pete are told they can go, and as they return to their car, Pete’s camera kit and their three mobile phones are handed back to them.

  The two Mercedes drive away and Jackson and his two colleagues switch on t
heir mobiles. They immediately burst into life with anxious messages from Mack and Samira. Jackson reports that they are all okay and will explain what happened as soon as they get back.

  They head for the bureau and Yassin wants to know what happened.

  “Wait until we get to the office and I’ll tell everyone at the one time,” Jackson replies.

  “You sure have a fucking lot of explaining to do, Jacko,” shouts Pete. “I nearly shit myself when we got lifted, but no wonder you didn’t seem too bothered. You’re a fucking mate of that bastard!”

  “Correction, Pete, I was a mate – many years ago.”

  “Maybe, but you could’ve fucking told me how you were getting all these tip-offs!”

  Pete turns to Yassin. “Did Jacko tell you?”

  Yassin shakes his head. “No. I told nothing. Very frightened.”

  “You’re a real prick sometimes, Jacko. A real prick!” Pete shouts. “You’re putting our lives at risk because you don’t seem willing or able to communicate basic essential information with your closest colleagues.”

  Jackson knows his cameraman’s angry reaction is justified. “I’m really sorry. I know how you feel. One of these days I hope that I can explain it all to you. Believe me, I had no idea this was going to happen. Bin Hassan is paranoid about being tracked down and both times I’ve been lifted there’s been no advance notice. I was terrified the first time it happened to me.”

  Pete and Yassin grudgingly accept Jackson’s apologetic explanation.

  CHAPTER 25

  Back at the bureau, there is much talk between Mack, Jackson, Pete and Samira about the sensitivity of the interview. They have watched a replay. Jackson is annoyed to discover that Pete left his camera rolling during the private chat when the formal interview was suspended. “Why did you do that?” he demands.

  “Sorry mate, but you should know that a good cameraman always keeps a recording running, just in case something unexpected happens.”

  Mack intervenes. “Pete’s right, but we mustn’t let this bit leave our office. The fewer people who know about Jacko’s links with Bin Hassan the better – at this stage anyway.”