A Line in the Sand (66 page)

flew

and circled him, but when it came down it was always beyond his reach.

To survive, he would have killed the creature he loved, and all the time the silence grew around him. Again, digging for strength, the pain surging, he lunged. He was on his knees and groping at air.

The

bird mocked him, danced in front of him.

As he sagged back, his face screwed in pain, he saw, in the far

distance, the man walking towards him. On the raised pathway, coming closer, alone and unprotected, was his target. The photograph had fallen from his hand when he had reached for the bird, floating on the

muddy water near to him. He gripped it, looked once more at the

crumpled photograph and at the man. The pain in his body told him it

was not the delirium that comes to the wounded before sleep and then death. The man walked towards him. Vahid Hossein thanked his God and

grasped the launcher in his hands as firmly as he could.

"Is that you, Fenton? Penny Flowers here. Did you know our esteemed American allies were already counting their chickens? They're

planning

to go public as soon as there's a corpse or a prisoner. They reckon, a

little bird tells me, that it's going to be their day, which is in direct contradiction of what I understand to be our policy on this.

Thought you should know... He walked in the beauty of the landscape and

did not believe he deserved to.

Meryl was dead, the woman he had slept with, loved with, bickered

with,

440

th, was lying on a tray in the mortuary's racks. Because

lived wi

of

.. When they had walked on that path together, after going to

him.

the

as always on his right side so that she could better see

beach, she w

the water-birds in the marshland. His right arm dangled at his side hand was open, as if she were about to take it and hold it,

and his

as

did when they were alone and together.

she

sun warmed his cheeks, but his body was cold, insensate.

The

He had

not taken a coat out through the toilet window, but had escaped in the

pullover that had been warm enough for the house. As he'd walked

on

the beach, the self-pity had dropped away from him and now, on the path

ing towards the marshland, he remembered only what he had done to

go

friends... For Frank Perry, friends had been the rock of life. And she

was gone because of what he had done to friends, burned them to death.

emember each meeting with them, and how he had bought them.

He could r

He had purchased his friends, and they were burned to death because of

him. And Meryl had paid the final price.

In a quiet, private voice, he asked for her forgiveness, and the agony s crime distracted him from the beauty all around him.

of hi

or Meryl innocent, ignorant Meryl - Meryl who knew little of the

Po

world beyond her door, for whom Islam was a mystery. Into her home, he

had carried history and Faith, terror, warheads and a killer, and

he

tried to ask for her forgiveness.

She had been innocent and ignorant, and happy with it.

It was a country and a culture, a people, an aspiration of power of which she had known nothing and wanted to know nothing, and he had it into her life, and that nothing had killed her. His

dragged

friends, too, were in his mind, their faces, their kindnesses, their r and their burned bodies, and she was dead and she had not

laughte

own them.

kn

She was gone from him.." too late to ask for her bloody

forgiveness. Life went on.

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He said it out loud to make it real.

"Life goes on... The dogs pounced at him from hidden ground below the

pathway, came through the old sagging fence beside the water where it

turned towards the church tower.

"Life bloody goes on.

The dogs tripped him from his dream state. He lashed at the nearer one

with his shoe and it danced clear of him. He peered over the fence and

saw the sleeping minder, Markham. He could have walked on. The man lay and slept in the sunshine and breathed easily. Markham had told him the consequence of his actions. Enough of asking for forgiveness and enough of thinking on friends, because life bloody well went on, like it or not. He stepped over the fence, slipped down past the

leafless willows and crossed the short-cropped grass. The dogs

snarled

and cuddled down beside the sleeping man, Markham. He crouched,

shook

the man's shoulder. Eyes opened, the face contorted in

astonishment.

"What the hell what the fucking hell are you doing here?"

Markham looked around him fast the empty grass, the still water, the unmoving reed-beds and he reached up and dragged Perry down.

ould ask you the same question. Nothing better to occupy

"I c

yourself?

you doing?"

What are

kham stared out into the

"Shit .. . because he's here .. ." Mar

impenetrable mass of slow-swaying reeds, then glanced down at the

dogs.

after him .. . Get down.~ The

"Because the tracker's gone in there

sarcasm was wiped from his lips. Perry lay on his stomach beside

Markham.

"Here? So where are the guns?"

"There are no fucking guns, there's just an unarmed civilian tracker 442

in

there searching for him," Markham spat.

"What the hell are you doing out of the house?"

He said weakly, "I wanted to be alone. I went out through the toilet-'

"You're serious?"

"I wanted to think."

"That is about as irresponsible as is humanly possible."

"I'm just a parcel, nobody cares."

"You're a bloody symbol. Men protect you because of your status as a

symbol. Christ, you weren't idiot enough to think it was personal, were you? We're not here because we bloody like you. It's our work, it's what we do. What were you thinking of?"

"I thought you were as much my friends as the men who burned to death.

Where is he?"

"Somewhere out there, being hunted."

He lay on his stomach. Nothing moved ahead of him to disturb the

peace. He closed his eyes and pressed his head down on to the

short-cropped grass. The sun was on his neck, and he felt only the chill of regret. In his mind, he saw the burned bodies.

Cox said to the secretary of state, "If our American friends, our dear

and closest allies, are allowed to run with this, then we sail on

uncharted waters and among unknown reefs. We will be sucked into

their

vortex. Do we want that? Are we prepared to be tugged along by the nose, at their beck and call and in the interests of their propaganda coup? It's a huge step.." so often the quiet passing of a covert chieves more than the beating of cymbals.

signal a

But, sir, it is

your

decision..."

Pandemonium broke loose.

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hing-up

In the domestic routine, plates clean, food finished, was

ne,

do

the principal had been forgotten.

Where in God's name was he?

The kid had been the centre of attention and the requirement to

m, and the military were doing their thing and that had

distract hi

lertness.

softened the a

It was only when the nanny policewoman had

ne to the downstairs toilet, and shouted back that it was locked

go

from

de, that he had been remembered.

the insi

ey scattered: Blake upstairs to check the bedrooms, Paget going

Th

out

ch the garden, Rankin hustling through the ground floor,

to sear

Davies

ing the green and the road and not a sniff of him. As they

scann

pounded around her, the nanny policewoman told the kid it wasn't

ing to worry about.

anyth

e down the toilet door.

Paget brok

The window was open, the sunlight

o look.

streaming in. They were gathered behind him t

"The bastard's done a runner.

The~cacophony of voices filled the hallway.

elves on the

"After all we've bloody done for him... Bloody put ours

ne

li

for him.. . Sort of thanks you get from a selfish bloody bastard

... What the fuck is he thinking of?"

rgotten in the silence, the child shouted, "Don't, don't you're Fo

his

"

friends.

ey stood for a moment, heads hung, shamed.

Th

n

Fento

said, into the telephone, "So good to speak to you. Of course, I feel I know you although we've never met. Let's put that right.

day, I think.

Lunch to

I apologize if you've something in your diary

but I promise you it would be worth your while to scratch it out.

s a nice little place off St. James's, on the right, third

There'

street up from Pall Mall, Italian one o'clock? Excellent. I've

heard

so much about you... What's it concern? Try remembering a man known 444

as

Frank Perry... One o'clock? I look forward to it hugely."

The chance was given him by his God. The bird was above him,

sometimes

coming down into the reeds to perch and watch him, but always beyond his reach. One final chance was given him by his God, to take him to

of Paradise. He thought of the great men who had gone

the Garden

before him, slipped from the mountain at Alamut, made long journeys, stalked their target, and he would meet them as an equal in the Garden of Paradise, and sweet-faced girls would wash the wounds on his body under trees of fruit blossom and take the pain from him. He was weak and could move only slowly. He had seen where the target had come down

off the high pathway, and he had not seen him climb back. He knew where he would find him and prayed that he had the strength to take him.

He smelt the burning of the bodies as the flesh melted on the bones.

He heard the terror of the screams. He saw the women weeping.

He had been in their homes and they had cooked celebratory meals for him and their husbands.

Frank Perry jerked up his head from the ground.

"What's happened?"

"Nothing's happened," the minder, Markham, whispered sourly.

"What about the tracker?"

"Don't know, haven't sight nor sound of him."

"And for him, the hunter, is it just a job or does he care?"

"You wouldn't understand."

and what I did."

"I underst

ere convenient they used you every inch of the way."

"You w

e care, the man out there, the man who killed Meryl?"

"Does h

445

"He's professional, doing a job for his country, as we're doing a job

for ours. As a person, he doesn't care."

"Dying for his country?"

"Let me tell you something, Mr. Perry, that might help you to comprehend .. . The Islamic activists in Egypt blow up tourist buses, but it's not personal. They get caught, they get tried in courtroom cages, and are sentenced to hang on the gallows. You and I would

beg

for mercy, but they don't. When the judge passes the death sentence jump

they

up and down in excitement, and they are smiling and laughing

and praising their God. He won't give a shit, but you cannot

comprehend that."

"Would he know about the bus? Would he know what I did?"

"He'd know."

"Could you live with that, the sight of the bodies and the smell?"

"I don't have to. It's not my problem."

"But I do, and it's my torment."

He pushed himself up, on to his knees, on to his feet, and stood at his

full height. The minder, Markham, was tugging at his trousers and trying to drag him down, but he braced himself and stood straight.

He

saw the birds gliding in the dark water pools, and the gentle motion of

the wind in the reed-heads, and the calm, unbroken reflections. He saw

the harrier swoop low over the reeds. There was an awesome beauty in

and peace.

the sunlight,

He identified the corruption that had led

him

the crime of responsibility for the burned bodies and the smell.

to

He

omebody'; he had been the man who was valued, who was met

had been 's

at

the airport with the chauffeured car, who was taken into the room

in

se behind the Pall Mall clubs, who talked to a quiet audience

the hou

446

and explained the detail of the satellite photography.

He had rejoiced in the attention of being 'somebody', as if a

corporate

badge hung from a neck chain on his chest. He had thought himself important, but he had only been used. He shouted, "I am here. I am

worthless. It is what I deserve."

The minder, Markham, struggled to pull him down.

"I know what I am. I am nobody."

The harrier danced on the reed-heads at the edge of his vision and the

sunlight caught on the barrel of the launcher.

"Do it, because I deserve it!"

In the depth of the reeds there was the dazzle of fire. With the

fire

was the grey belch of smoke and the tell-tale gold-thread signature climbing away from it. The sound thundered towards him. The birds rose screaming, threshing, shrieking from the pools between the

reed-banks. The trail of fire rose high above his head, away into the