Final Days (30 page)

He swallowed with some difficulty before making a second attempt at shouting for help. What came out sounded more like the cry of a trapped or wounded animal than anything that belonged in a human throat. He yelled yet again, even though he had already concluded no help would be forthcoming.

Saul froze as he heard the sound of a door opening, then closing again, followed by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. He gasped with shock as a pair of hands grabbed him roughly and dragged him to his feet. He kicked out instinctively, and felt something hard slam against the back of his head with sufficient force for his knees to buckle.

Once more, the same hands hauled him upright, and this time he didn’t resist. As he was dragged away, the glimmer of light first faded and then intensified, and he was aware, from the echo of his own footsteps, that he was being taken from one room to another. Several doors opened and closed before he was finally shoved against a wall.

A moment later he heard the familiar click of a weapon’s safety catch being released, followed by the chill sensation of a gun barrel being pressed up against one side of his head.

‘Please,’ he managed to mumble, ‘you don’t need to do this. Just tell me what you want.’

No reply was forthcoming, as a second pair of hands loosened his belt buckle, before yanking his trousers down around his knees. Despite the gun pressed to his temple, Saul tried desperately to twist loose, as sheer panic finally overcame him.

Something hard slammed into his head a second time. A fit of nausea gripped him and he fought the urge to vomit. The two pairs of hands kept him upright, however, then lowered him on to a seat.

Saul became dimly aware of now being seated on a toilet.

‘If you need to take a shit,’ a heavily accented voice murmured very close to his ear, ‘now would be a good time.’

There was something familiar about that voice.

Saul merely nodded, too frightened to say anything more, the air within the bag close and hot, and filled with the smell of his own fear. Groaning with relief, he started to piss.

The two sets of hands held him secure by either shoulder, but the only sound he could hear apart from their breathingwas that of his own urine splashing into the pan.

‘Finished?’ asked the same voice, eventually, and Saul finally recognized it.

Narendra, the information broker. The man who’d told him Lee Hsingyun was legitimate, just before the fiasco on the ice-pharm.

Saul grunted his assent, and he was quickly pulled back upright. As hands refastened his trousers, he felt a trickle of warm urine run down the inside of his thigh.

A door banged open again, and he was led, stumbling, through yet more twists and turns, until a final shove sent him back on to his knees. He heard Narendra begin speaking in Turkish and, when a live translation failed to appear, he realized to his horror that his contacts had been taken from him. And if they had removed his contacts, they had also taken Jeff’s encrypted files . . .

A second voice replied, this one deeper and more guttural, its tone angry and dismissive. Saul listened carefully as the two men argued. Finally one pair of footsteps headed towards the door, while a shadowy form kneeled beside him, pressing something against Saul’s lips, until it forced him to tip his head back.

Water
.

Saul gulped it down, realizing he must have become dangerously dehydrated. Some of it spilled down his neck as he swallowed it greedily, tipping his head ever farther back. Then his unseen benefactor stood up and departed, locking the door securely once more.

Saul slumped back, trying to breathe more evenly, and began to gather up some of his scattered wits. He could still hear the occasional call of distant voices above the rumble of machinery, and came to the conclusion he must be somewhere close by a building site.

Once he felt calmer, he carefully shuffled backwards, on his knees, until he felt the soles of his feet come into contact with a wall. He once again tried to rid himself from whatever was binding his wrists together, but his bonds simply grew tighter the more he struggled. So, in the end, he gave up.

Clumsily staggering upright, he then slid along the wall until he reached a corner of his makeshift cell.

He could feel a faint breeze there, which surely meant an open window. He next slid along the second wall, until he encountered the edge of the windowsill with his fingertips. Cool air ruffled his hair and made him wonder how high up above the ground he was.

Saul continued on his way, shuffling past the window and skirting around the next corner, until he felt a door handle brush against his fingers. He twisted himself around, bending his knees slightly until he could get a grip on it. The handle clicked slightly as he tugged at it, but the door was firmly locked. As he’d expected, really, but there was no reason not to try.

The door suddenly slammed open so that Saul lost his balance, toppling forward to hit the floor hard. He twisted around until he was lying on his back, then felt the air explode out of his lungs as someone drove eezest into his guts. Creasing up, he felt an arm wrap itself firmly around his neck. Something ice-cold touched his throat, and consciousness rapidly slipped away.

Saul woke to blinding light as the bag was ripped from over his head. He sneezed and blinked, before gazing around at four bare plaster walls. To his right, he saw an open door and a half-open window beyond a floor of bare concrete. Plastic crates were stacked in a corner, each stamped with the name of a biotech pharm, probably agricultural supplies or seed stock.

Narendra stood by the window, the cloth bag still clutched in one hand. To one side of him stood a barrel-chested man with a shaven head, gripping a shotgun in both hands. His gaze was dark and entirely lacking in mercy.

‘I guessed it was you,’ Saul rasped at Narendra. ‘My contacts. What did you do with them?’

‘They’re somewhere safe.’ Narendra scratched at his goatee before stepping forward to kneel at Saul’s side. ‘I’m going to untie you now,’ he explained, ‘but please don’t try anything foolish. Eren here would be delighted to have an excuse to kill you.’

Saul felt his wrists fall loose, and he slowly moved his hands around in front of him. All the while, the barrel-chested man, Eren, watched him with the keen interest of a bird of prey dropping towards a field mouse. Predictably, his wrists were bruised and purple, and on flexing his shoulders, he heard their joints creak in protest.

A third man entered, carrying a tray laden with coffee and what smelled like
kofte ekmek
, rich with spices and onions and wrapped in brightly coloured paper. The man handed the tray to Narendra, then departed without a word. Saul heard his own stomach rumble.

‘You can get put away for a long time for kidnapping an ASI agent,’ said Saul, trying to ignore the pervasive aroma of the food. ‘Just how long have you been keeping me here?’

Narendra assumed a slightly apologetic expression, as if this were nothing more than a terrible misunderstanding. ‘Two days,’ he explained, placing the tray on the floor next to Saul. ‘Eat first, then we can talk.’

Saul laughed weakly. ‘What, now you’re trying to soften me up before you get to work on me with a pair of pliers? I don’t have anything to say to you, or to anyone else.’

‘All we want to know is why you’re here.’ Narendra’s gaze flicked towards Eren, then back again. ‘I’m sorry about your treatment. If it’s any help, it wasn’t my decision.’

‘I haven’t done anything that warrants kidnapping me off the street, believe me,’ Saul insisted angrily.

Eren barked some comment at Narendra, then headed over to the door. Narendra followed him abruptly, then paused with one hand on the handle. ‘As a gesture of goodwill, we won’t put the cuffs back on for the moment,’ he said. ‘But please think hard about whatever you may want to tell me when I return, or else things may turn out very bad for both of us.’

‘It would help if I had the slightest idea what the hell you want from me,’ Saul yelled after him.

Narendra quickly locked the door behind him, leaving Saul finally alone with the food. He ate ravenously, his eyes watering from the rich spices flavouring the meatballs.

Once he had finished, Saul made his way over to the window and discovered that he was perhaps thirty storeys above ground level. So far as he could tell, he was confined in one of several residential towers strung along the sloping side of the valley. He could see construction teams, like tiny, multicoloured ants, clambering around the tower that was its nearest neighbour. It stood perhaps a kilometre away, its upper floors presently a tangle of girders. He even thought about shouting for help, but the chances of anyone hearing him were extraordinarily slim.

He stepped back to the door and pressed his ear against it, listening hard. After a moment he was rewarded by the sound of a throat clearing.

Saul passed most of the rest of the morning watching cargo drones drift above the city canopy, obviously on their way to and from other settlements. Without his contacts, he felt desperately isolated, as if he was stranded naked in a jungle with no idea how to get home.

Narendra returned in the early afternoon, again accompanied by Eren. He placed a wooden chair in the centre of the room, while Eren gestured with the barrel of his shotgun, and barked several unintelligible commands indicating that Saul should kneel. Once he had complied, Narendra stepped quickly behind him, binding his wrists once more.

Narendra took a seat on the chair, facing Saul, while Eren moved to stand directly behind him.

Narendra rubbed his palms against his thighs. ‘I must ask you again,’ his eyes fitted up towards Eren, with more than a touch of nervousness, ‘why you came here.’

‘None of your damn business,’ replied Saul.

Narendra merely nodded, and took out a small pouch. He began to roll himself a cigarette, carefully balancing the paper on one knee as he added a pinch of tobacco. ‘I did say earlier that it would be better for both of us,’ he remarked, without looking up from his task, ‘if you answered.’

There was a faint tremor in Narendra’s voice, and Saul noticed the broker’s hands were shaking very gently. It wasn’t difficult to guess that he was deadly afraid of Eren.
He’s out of his depth
, Saul realized.

‘Does Eren here know just what you do for a living?’ Saul asked suddenly. He could hear the slow in-and-out of Eren’s breath, and could picture the shotgun muzzle hovering just centimetres from the back of his skull.

‘Yes,’ Narendra replied, still focused on his work. ‘He is very much aware of it. We are . . . siness associates, you might say.’

Saul nodded, as if in understanding. ‘So all that information you gave me about Shih Hsiu-Chuan, last time I was here . . . that was all a set-up, am I right?’

Narendra’s eyes flicked up to meet his, then lowered. ‘Yes. When did you realize?’

Saul shrugged. ‘Lee Hsingyun turning up when he did was just too convenient, and he obviously knew a lot more about us than we did about him. Outside of the ASI, you’re the only one who knows we had an interest in Hsiu-Chuan.’

‘You’re not the only person I trade with, Saul. It goes both ways.’

‘Yes,’ Saul nodded, ‘but in return for the information you give us, we allow you to continue trading, just as long as you don’t cross us. In all the years we dealt with you, this is the first time you’ve done that, so why now? What’s at stake that suddenly everything’s different?’

‘You sound,’ said Narendra, ‘like you already have an idea why.’

‘I always realized all that stuff you liked to spout about staying “neutral” was just bullshit, but I could never figure out just where your true loyalties lay. Now I think I do. Your friend Eren’s with one of the separatist groups, right?’

Narendra said nothing, lit his cigarette and took a draw, the smoke drifting up pungently.

‘Not Fan Pan Zhe,’ Saul continued, ‘so I figure it’s Al Hurr. They’re pretty much running Sophia these days.’

Eren muttered something from just behind him, and Narendra nodded in response.

‘I asked you a question.’ Narendra fixed his gaze on Saul. ‘You still haven’t answered it.’

Eren pressed the shotgun muzzle up against the back of Saul’s neck, forcing his head forward. He then shouted something close to Saul’s ear, and Saul closed his eyes, trying not to think about the damage a shotgun cartridge could do at such close range.

‘Wait!’ he cried out. ‘All right, I’m trying to find a man called Farad Maalouf. I believe he has family here.’

Narendra nodded, over his head, at Eren, who withdrew the shotgun. Saul straightened slowly, his heart hammering in his chest.

‘So why are you trying to find him?’

‘A friend of mine disappeared. I’ve reason to think Maalouf might be able to help me find him.’

‘And this friend’s name?’

Saul glared at Narendra. ‘Now, that really
isn’t
any of your fucking business.’

Narendra gestured to Eren, who rammed Saul in the small of the back hard enough to send him sprawling face-down across the rough-textured concrete. A moment later, Eren straddled him, taking a grip on Saul’s bound wrists and twisting his arms up and over his head.

Saul screamed from the sheer pain: it felt as if his arms were being ripped out of their sockets. An eternity seemed to pass before Eren finally let go.