by Henry Porter
‘It was a good plan,’ said Samson, touching the cut on his cheek, which had suddenly began to throb.
‘Maybe you should put a dressing on it.’
‘I will.’
‘But your absence today gave me the chance to talk to Anastasia and hear about the work she’s doing. What a fine person she is!’
‘Yes,’ said Samson, aware of a tiny flicker of possessiveness. ‘And she knows Naji, which is going to be important. I have made an arrangement with his eldest sister that we meet in Pudnik market in the morning. She told me that their youngest sibling – a girl – died in the refugee camp, so I do not know what sort of state he’ll be in. He’s certainly going to need Anastasia’s help.’
‘Poor boy – it’s good that she’s here. A wise initiative by you.’ Hisami took one of his long pauses and looked Samson candidly in the eye. ‘Actually, she helped me a great deal. I have found the last few days extraordinarily hard, as you warned I would. But I didn’t appreciate it would be this tough. As I told you, I loved my sister dearly and . . .’ His voice failed him and he stopped to compose himself. ‘Let me just say Anastasia is good at allowing one to confront the results of pure evil. She’s the best listener I’ve come across. She gives herself entirely to the person to whom she is listening and absorbs some of that person’s grief. It’s a remarkable ability.’
Samson waited a moment before saying, ‘She’s had a lot of experience in Lesbos. The pain she deals with on daily basis is unbearable – she is very strong.’
Hisami nodded and his expression moved rapidly from hurt to anger. ‘It seems that Aysel was murdered – tortured then murdered for refusing to comply with the demands of the man who bought her from Al Kufra.’
‘I am so sorry,’ said Samson. ‘I’m afraid I suspected that.’
‘It was kind of you not to tell me your fears. But now we know all the details from Al Kufra. The story even shocked Simcek, who was conducting the interrogation. The evidence found on that phone is enough to mount a proper war crimes trial against these men. It really is the most important find of recent years and we have you to thank for it.’
‘It was sheer accident,’ said Samson.
‘No, it was due to your determination, and I thank you for it – really!’ He sighed, as though settling something in his mind. ‘I have to tell you that the individual who violated and murdered my sister was Al-munajil, also known as Abu Wassim, or the Commander. There can be no doubt about this. Al Kufra showed us all the evidence, including film and messages from Al-munajil. Al Kufra was a witness. Although a person of unspeakable depravity, even he was appalled and, knowing what I do now, I can believe that.’ He stopped. ‘She was very badly tortured over a long period. The many women catalogued on his phone all suffered, but none quite like Aysel.’
Samson was silent. Everything they knew about this individual, nicknamed ‘machete’, complied with this new information. Naji must have had some inkling of what he was doing, possibly even of the treatment of Dr Hisami, which was why he did everything to protect Munira and get his family out of Syria.
Hisami was not the sort of person who invited physical contact, but Samson momentarily laid a hand on his arm and said he appreciated very well what he was going through. ‘Thank you,’ Hisami said. ‘It helps to know that you understand; it helps that you tried so very hard to rescue her.’
Another long silence followed. ‘I could really use a drink,’ Hisami said eventually, looking up from the logs in the grate. ‘Perhaps you will join me?’
‘Of course,’ said Samson.
Hisami shook the little hand bell and ordered cognac, which was exactly what Samson felt like.
‘There is one thing that seems important,’ Hisami said when the waitress had left. ‘Al Kufra was on the run because he had been dealing in drugs and had abused his position. He got wind and fled before he was seized and executed. He says that Al-munajil’s only purpose in Europe is to avoid a similar fate and that he can do this by tracking down and eliminating the person who copied all his files and fled to Europe with them on their phone. Al Kufra had no idea the boy in the group he travelled with was that very person. As you know, he only stole Naji’s phone because Naji took a picture of the group with him in it.’
‘Did Simcek understand the significance of this?’ Samson asked quickly. ‘Did he inform the British and the other European intelligence agencies?’
‘I’ve no idea. I assume he did. Why do you ask?’
‘Al-munajil has no reason to travel north if his only purpose is to track down Naji. We know his people are actively searching for Naji in Macedonia because of the two men that shot at him the day before yesterday – the two men Simcek has under arrest. They were employed to kill Naji and get his phone. They took a phone from him but it happened to be the wrong one. However, that was why they were out on the mountain yesterday.’
The waitress returned with the drinks. As she set them down, Hisami opened his hands to Samson, urging him to continue.
‘The point is that Al-munajil knows Naji is in this area,’ said Samson. ‘There’s no way he would go to another country if he knew Naji was here, which he does. If Simcek hasn’t shared that with the other agencies it means that he is going to try to capture Al-munajil himself.’
‘And that’s why he didn’t mind you being here – because he thinks you’ll lead him to Naji and Al-munajil won’t be far behind.’
‘That’s possible. Frankly, I don’t mind who gets Al-munajil, just so long as he’s caught.’
‘But all those intelligence agencies cannot be mistaken, surely. Vuk told me that it was a huge operation.’
‘Maybe,’ said Samson. ‘What we have to do is make sure we get to Naji in the market tomorrow, and I don’t want bloody Simcek arresting him.’
‘Well, you have Vuk and me and Anastasia,’ said Hisami. ‘Jim Tulliver will have to go back to New York on the plane with these papers.’
‘What about the other people that were in Skopje with you?’
‘They had to leave. I have a problem back in the States that needs their immediate attention. My plane is practically running a shuttle service between the States and the Balkans.’
‘Nothing serious?’
‘It is, but I want to see this through with you. And my relationship with Simcek may be useful.’
‘Can you ask him about the two men he’s got in custody? He told me they hadn’t been properly interviewed because they were being treated for multiple lacerations and other injuries. They were in a dreadful state but I’m sure he’s talked to them and I’d very much like to know what he got from them – where they came from, who hired them and how the hell they came to track Naji down.’
‘I will try, but right now I need to complete these papers. I have a long evening in front of me, I’m afraid. Would you mind if I didn’t join you for dinner?’
‘I’m beat anyway,’ replied Samson, getting up.
‘You’ll find the chef is pretty good.’
Samson looked around the hotel but couldn’t find Anastasia or Vuk, so went to his room and slumped in a chair for five minutes before picking up the phone and asking for her room.
‘Hi, you want dinner?’ he asked. ‘We could order in.’
‘I’ve already ordered for us both – cabbage rolls and turli tava, which I think is like a stew. And a very good wine, because I’m on vacation. Give me ten to have a shower.’
He washed and shaved and thought not about Anastasia but Naji. Then he did some calculations on the bedside notepad and left his room with the paper in his back pocket. Anastasia greeted him with a glass of red wine. She was wearing black jeans and a fine beige cashmere cardigan over a white shirt and a silver necklace. She smiled but seemed sombre. Samson’s eyes unromantically went straight to the coffee table. ‘Would you mind if I used your laptop for a few minutes?’
‘What for? Spy stuff?’
‘No, horse stuff – I want to look up something.’
He went onto the BetRosso gambling site, keyed in his membership number and looked up the prices for the Lovatt Champions Long Distance Cup, which was to be run over one mile and seven furlongs. Snow Hat was at 5–2 but Dark Narcissus had only moved two points, out to 18–1. Samson scratched his chin and thought. It didn’t seem likely to move out any further, and even though there was a big field of nineteen runners, there was always the possibility that someone would spot Dark Narcissus and suddenly get a feeling about it and cause the price to fall. He sat back and did some calculations in his head.
‘What’re you doing?’ she asked, perching on the side of his armchair.
‘Wondering if I should wait until tomorrow to make my play.’
‘Is this a big bet?’
‘By most standards, yes.’ He sat back and looked up at her, having decided that he would wait and add a reverse forecast into the plan, which would allow him to pick Snow Hat and Dark Narcissus as first and second, in either order. He explained this to her but she soon closed her eyes then moved to the sofa. He cursed himself for being so obsessive. Anastasia had, after all, haunted his thoughts in the past few days, her significance growing every day he was on the road, although he had not actually acknowledged that until this moment. ‘I am so sorry.’ He paused, genuinely surprised by his insensitivity. ‘There you are looking so fresh and beautiful and all I could do was look at the damned computer. My apologies – I am not usually as dull as this.’
She gave him that confidential smile of hers and let him off the hook. ‘Well, you’ve had a long day and little sleep – you can be forgiven.’
‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I am appalled by my behaviour.’
‘Why do you gamble?’ she asked.
‘To make money – most gamblers bet because they like the risk. I don’t get my kicks like that.’
She wrinkled her nose doubtfully. ‘There must be an easier way to earn a living, and I don’t mean going into Syria.’
‘This will be my second bet this year,’ he said, aware that he was protesting too much. ‘I have been waiting for this race.’
‘And you enjoy it?’
‘To be honest, I feel sick during the race. And even if I win, I still feel sick.’
‘It is nevertheless a risk, and even when you win you don’t feel good. Seems like you have a bit of a problem there.’ She picked up her glass and examined him over the rim as she drank.
Samson shrugged and smiled ruefully. ‘Maybe, but I do make money and I am very cautious – I mean exceptionally so.’
‘Was your father a gambler?’
‘He played poker and chemin de fer in a club near the restaurant in Mayfair. It’s a version of the card game baccarat. He made money – well, that’s what he always told us, and most of the time I believed him.’ He stopped and watched her for a second. ‘Sorry, I was being an idiot.’
She reached across to him and put her hand to his cheek. ‘Let me just do something about this – it’s annoying me.’ She disappeared into the bathroom and came back with an adhesive dressing. ‘Come into the light,’ she said. She divided the strip equally into two then placed the two halves over the cut. He smelled her scent and her breath at the same time and despite his exhausted state felt desire stir in him. She moved her head back to admire her work and squinted at him with a kind of professional interest.
‘What?’ he said, and kissed her briefly on the lips.
She smiled and then put her head to one side. ‘Just thinking about the risks you take in your life. Denis said that the second time you went into Syria to find his sister you were nearly killed. A group kidnapped you – is that right?’
‘Not quite,’ said Samson, sitting down heavily, now feeling a lot less amorous. He reached for his glass. ‘There was a disagreement about the money I was paying the people who were helping me talk to contacts in Iraq and Syria. They wanted more for the work, which had admittedly become much more dangerous. They held me until they’d collected funds in Gaziantep in Turkey.’ He stopped and took a sip of wine. ‘My goodness, this is really good.’
‘What happened?’
‘The building they were holding me in was hit by a bomb. Two men were killed. They were just atomised – simply vanished.’
‘And you weren’t hurt?’
‘Knocked out for bit and I lost my hearing for a couple of weeks.’
‘Did you escape then?’
‘No, I needed them. I stayed and helped an injured man, but it was thirty-six hours before anyone arrived. They were grateful I’d been with him, although the truth was that I really had no option. It would have been crazy to try to reach the border on my own, and besides, they’d taken my boots, so I couldn’t run. It’s hard to move around a war zone in your socks.’ He pointed to his feet. ‘These are the very boots.’
She glanced at the scuffed, dusty leather of Samson’s boots for a moment. ‘Then what?’
‘We continued as before, but I’d lost valuable time and they understood that those two men were dead because they had extorted a few thousand dollars from me; otherwise, none of us would have been in that building. So things were pretty tense, but they did continue to work with me after the money was released.’
‘Why was it an issue? Denis is so wealthy.’
‘At that stage, I was financing the trip, along with my associate in London, Macy Harp, because Denis was exploring other avenues. I thought we had a good lead and Denis had already paid us a lot. But you don’t go into Syria flashing a lot of dollars, unless you want to be held for a very large ransom. I told them I had limited funds. I had to work within what I thought the market was for a woman like Aysel.’ He threw her an apologetic look. ‘But you don’t want to hear all this.’
‘I’m not shocked. We’ve helped many women and girls who have been raped. It’s part of life in the camp.’
‘The irony is that I found the one man in the world who could have helped me free Aysel – Al Kufra.’
‘Why did Denis want to be involved with his interrogation?’
Samson was silent, staring into the light of the table lamp for a few seconds. ‘He was bearing witness to her death in some way,’ he said eventually. ‘Denis had to know exactly what happened to her. Maybe he was taking on some of her pain, if you see what I mean.’
‘I think you are right – we spoke of these things today.’
‘He said you helped him a lot.’
‘I doubt it. Confronting evil like that is very hard, because you can’t explain it in normal human terms. But my impression from one meeting is that Denis is very strong – he has been through a lot in his lifetime.’
They sat in silence, and then she reached out and placed her hand on his uninjured cheek. ‘I like you, Paul. I like you very much. But this life of yours – this life of risk – seems, well, so very solitary.’
He shook his head, smiling. ‘I have lots of friends, Anastasia. And there have been quite a few relationships, too.’
She smiled. ‘I am sure there have. You’re attractive. How did they cope with this secret life of risk?’
He didn’t answer. Samson was used to this kind of questioning from girlfriends, but he was amused by her sweet and irrefutable candour. ‘You got me,’ he said, opening his hands in mock submission.
‘And you got me,’ she said, and she leaned in and kissed him.
‘But that was a rapid analysis for such a short acquaintance,’ he said. ‘You always do that?’
‘Only to people I really like. I hope you didn’t think I was rude.’ She pulled back.
He shook his head.
When the food arrived, they agreed to talk about other things and consumed the stew with relish. Afterwards, they went out onto the balcony to smoke and finish the wine in the chi
lly updraught from the canyon below the monastery.
‘Was your father a ladies’ man, too?’ she asked with a mischievous grin.
‘That expression is a bit archaic, isn’t it? He wasn’t, and no, I’m not either.’
‘Well, mine was,’ she said. ‘Couldn’t help it – had to get every woman he met into bed. Eventually my mother grew tired of being humiliated and divorced him. He never got over it and died at fifty-nine.’
‘Were you close?’
She shook her head. ‘I was far too boring for him – he liked jokes and merriment and he never took anything seriously, even his businesses. I was too serious, and when I was a teenager I called him out on his infidelities, which he didn’t like at all. I was immediately sent to boarding school in the States to shut me up. Then I went to college in the UK, and then he died. And, no, I have no unresolved issues about that. My father made his choices. He was a scoundrel, and he didn’t know how to love or be loved. End of story.’
‘But he’d be proud of what you’re doing now?’
She thought about that. ‘No, I think he’d be mystified. Plus, he would hate all the migrants coming into his country. He was basically a racist – as so many of that generation were.’ She sighed. ‘My mother always missed him. Long after they were divorced she bought the aftershave he used – it was a particularly type you could only find in London – and she sprayed it around her apartment to remind herself of his presence. She still loved him. But, no, he would not have understood what I do, or the need for it.’
Samson stubbed out his cigarette on the underside of a stone table and flicked the butt into the void. ‘Well, I think you do a wonderful job and, by the way, you did help Denis.’
As if it were the most natural thing in the world, they leaned in to one another and kissed again. ‘It really is like we’ve known each other for years,’ she said.
‘You’d have groaned if I’d come out with that. But it’s true. I thought about you a lot over the last few days – you just kept popping into my mind.’
