Firefight (21 page)

'You know what we want?' the American asked Latifa.

It clearly took a great effort for Latifa to stop her head
from lolling back over the edge of the bed, but she managed
it. 'I will not tell you anything,' she whispered.

The American nodded. From the leather bag he pulled
a rectangular cardboard tube and with surprise Will
realised it was an ordinary carton of kitchen cling film.
The man tore off a short length, held it tightly at each
end, then approached Latifa's head. As he did so, the
blonde-haired man took the rubber hose in one hand
and turned the tap on. Water escaped over the white tiled
floor and down a small outlet clearly put there for this
very purpose.

'Waterboarding,' Will whispered to himself.

'As I say,' Pankhurst replied, 'an extremely effective technique.'

It was with a brutal swiftness that the cling film was
pulled tightly over Latifa's face. Her mouth was wide open
and as she tried to breathe it caused the cling film to make
a tight, concave indentation in her mouth. The American
man pulled the back of her hair so that her head was
pointing down to the floor, then his colleague directed the
flow of the water over her face.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Latifa's body started to jerk as she struggled against the
straps that were tying her firmly down. She couldn't scream
because of the cling film, but the quiet sound of the water
splashing over her face and on to the door was enough to
send a shudder of revulsion down Will's spine.

Four seconds.

Five seconds.

'They'll kill her!' Will said urgently.

'No they won't,' Pankhurst replied. 'They know what
they're doing.'

Six seconds.

Seven seconds.

The American had to struggle to keep her head down.

Eight seconds.

Nine seconds.

Ten seconds.

'Stop!' the American said. His blonde-haired colleague
pulled the water away and the cling film was ripped from
Latifa's face. A deathly gasp escaped her throat as she took
a desperate intake of breath, then another. The American
allowed her to get her breath back before he spoke.

'Where is Faisal Ahmed?' he asked, directly.

'She won't tell him,' Will murmured.

Sure enough, Latifa refused to speak; but her rattling
breath filled Will's ears.

The American's face twitched slightly. This was not, Will
deduced, what he had expected; and Pankhurst also suddenly
looked uncomfortable. The American ripped off a fresh, dry
piece of cling film, nodded at his accomplice, and the process
started once more.

'Christ,' Will whispered. Torturing defenceless women.

This wasn't what he'd signed up for.

It lasted a little longer this time - perhaps fifteen
seconds, though it seemed to Will like a hell of a lot
more. When the cling film was finally ripped from her
face again, her breathing was even more panicked, but at
the same time weaker. Will's face was screwed up with
distaste. 'She can't take much more of this,' he told
Pankhurst.

'That's kind of the idea,' he snapped back.

The American spoke again. 'Where is Faisal Ahmed?'

Latifa's choking breaths came in short, sharp bursts. For
about thirty seconds they were the only sound in the room;
but finally she spoke. Her voice was quiet, trembling and
hoarse; but her words left no room for doubt.

'You may do what you like to me,' she whispered. 'I will
never tell you.'

The American inclined his head. Will had the impression
that he was vaguely impressed with Latifa's resistance. With
a sense of relentlessness, he ripped himself a third piece of
cling film.

As he did so, Latifa's head swung to the left and she
looked at the glass; even though he knew she couldn't see
through it, Will felt she was staring directly at him.

'Please,' she breathed. '
Please
—'

'He can't keep doing this!' Will burst out. It was a struggle
for him not to rush into the room and stop it from
happening. 'It'll kill her!'

Pankhurst didn't reply.

A third bout of waterboarding began. Latifa continued
to struggle against the ropes that were binding her, but her
movements were much weaker now. Barely noticeable.

'
It'll kill her!
'Will shouted in sudden frustration.

'If she doesn't tell us what we want to know,' Pankhurst
hissed, his usually calm demeanour suddenly absent, 'then
it doesn't matter.' His words were severe, but even Pankhurst
had a look of doubt in his face now.

Will blinked. A surge of anger flickered through him.

This wasn't right. It didn't matter
who
Latifa's brother was.
This wasn't right
.

'Fuck it,' he murmured to himself. In a flash, he burst
out of the door and into the room where the waterboarding
was happening. He crossed it in three swift strides, grabbed
the shiny-headed American by the throat and hurled him
out of the way, before punching the blonde-haired man
holding the hose so hard that he crumpled immediately to
the floor. Instantly he ripped the cling film from Latifa's
face.

The American came at him. Will allowed him to approach
before almost casually kneeing him in the groin. He collapsed
with a groan of agony as Will started unbuckling Latifa's
straps. She was still gasping, painfully - Will gently put his
hand behind her head to support it, then lifted her up into
a sitting position. The noises she was making sounded like
they should have come from an animal. But at least she was
alive.

And then Pankhurst was there, framed by the doorway,
his face a thundercloud. 'What the hell do you think you're
playing at, Jackson?' he demanded.

Will stood in the middle of the room, breathing deeply,
shakily. What
was
he playing at? He knew the stakes. He
knew why they were doing this. But that didn't make it
right. There had to be another way.

'Get out of the room,' Pankhurst continued. 'Let these
men carry on with their work.'

The two torturers had started to get to their feet, but
they were eyeing Will nervously, not knowing what he was
likely to do next. Will sensed Latifa rolling on to her front,
then huddling up on top of the stretcher bed into a little
ball, her arms clutching her head as a choking, weeping
sound escaped her throat.

Tentatively, the bald-headed American stepped towards
the bed.

'Leave her alone,' Will growled. 'Touch her and I'll kill
you.'

'
I'm giving you an order, Jackson!
' Pankhurst barked. '
Get
out of that room, now. Get out of that room or you can kiss
goodbye to your chance of going after the man who butchered your
wife and child!
'

Even as the Director General spoke, Will felt something
snap inside. In two giant strides he stepped to the doorway
where Pankhurst was standing and grabbed the man by the
neck, lifting him from the ground and pushing him up
against the far wall of the corridor. When he spoke, it was
little more than a whisper; but his voice carried with it all
the hate he could muster.

'If you ever -
ever
- mention my family again, I swear
I'll break your neck.'

Pankhurst's face started to redden as Will tightened his
grip. 'Put me down,' he croaked, but somehow that just
made Will want to squeeze tighter.

And then they were there, men with guns. 'Get to the
floor!' a voice shouted. 'Get to the floor or we'll shoot!'

As if he were flicking a fly, Will hurled Pankhurst to the
ground, where he fell in a heap. And just as the Director
General was getting to his feet, Will lay on the floor. He
was aware of Pankhurst standing over him.

'You've blown it, Jackson,' he spat.

From inside the room, Will could hear the sound of
Latifa's desperate racking sobs.

'You're the one who's blown it, Pankhurst,' he hissed.

'What do you mean?'

He was going to have to talk fast. Talk fast to save Latifa
Ahmed's life and talk fast to stop the whole operation from
going tits up.

'Can't you tell she's never going to reveal his location?
And even if she does, what do you do when you get there,
find he's gone and realise that you've waterboarded your
only lead to death - or to the point of insanity?'

There was a pause.

'Get to your feet,' Pankhurst instructed, curtly.

Will did so, holding his hands in the air so that the three
soldiers whose weapons were trained on him didn't think
he was about to make any sudden moves. His eyes flickered
into the room - Latifa was still curled up into a ball,
but at least the two torturers had kept their distance. For
now.

'Think about it,' Will continued. 'From everything you've
told me about Faisal Ahmed, he'll do anything for his sister.
If she won't lead us to him, it's obvious what we have to
do: let him know we've got her and get her to bring him
to us.'

Pankhurst was looking at Will with an expression of great
dislike; still, he didn't speak for a moment and Will sensed
that he had got the Director General's attention. They stared
at each other, the only sound being that of Latifa's desperate
sobs.

Finally, Pankhurst spoke, but not to Will. He addressed
one of the soldiers who was still holding the SAS man at
gunpoint.

'His team are in the holding room down the corridor,'
the Director General said. 'Take him there and stand guard
outside. If any of them try to leave, shoot them.'

The soldiers glanced at each other a little nervously. But
they had their orders. 'Let's go,' said one of them to Will.
'Hands on your head.'

For a moment Will didn't move; he just fixed Pankhurst
with a harsh glare. Then he felt the barrel of a gun poking
him and he started to walk down the corridor. 'You're
making a mistake,' he called back to Pankhurst; but the older
man didn't answer.

The room in which Drew and Kennedy were waiting
was surprisingly comfortable, with a couple of low-level
sofas, a coffee table and even a kettle for making hot
drinks. The two of them were sprawled on the sofas,
which seemed dwarfed by their massive frames; but they
sat up sharply when they saw that Will was being held
at gunpoint.

'You heard the man,' the soldier told Will. 'No heroics.'
And with that he shut the door on the three of them.

'What the f -?' Kennedy started to say.

'They're waterboarding her,' Will interrupted, angrily. 'I
stepped in.' He strode around the room, systematically
looking for another way out; but there was none.

'Christ,' Kennedy replied. 'She's probably beginning to
wish she was back with her caring, sharing Taliban.'

Drew, however, kept quiet; but he stared at Will with a
look that was heavy with meaning. Will stopped pacing and
from nowhere the words Drew had said to him back in the
Stan resounded in his head: '
You can trust us . . . You have to
trust us. Just like Anderson trusted you. Just like we all trusted you
.'

More than ever, those words rang true. These men had
followed him into battle. They'd risked their lives under his
command. Pankhurst might think that nobody could be
trusted, but one thing was immediately clear to Will: Drew
and Kennedy had proved themselves. He owed it to them
to tell them what was going on; then he was going to ask
them to do one last thing. Help him escape and take Latifa
with them. Together they would lure Faisal Ahmed far more
effectively than these moronic spooks and their cack-handed
techniques.

But just as he was about to speak, the door opened and
Pankhurst strode into the room. His brow was furrowed and
the fury of a couple of minutes ago had not left his face.

'How would you do it?' the MI5 man asked, shortly.

Will's eyes narrowed as his mind started rushing through
the logistics of his hastily put-together plan.

'We take her back to the UK,' he said, finally. 'Leak it
that she's been detained on terror charges and put under
house arrest. Blanket coverage - TV, radio, internet chat
rooms, the works. If Faisal Ahmed's as good as you say, he'll
try and extricate her.'

'If Faisal Ahmed's as good as I say,' Pankhurst retorted
with a hint of sarcasm, 'he'll succeed.'

As Pankhurst spoke, however, Will became aware that
Drew and Kennedy had stood up and were now flanking
him on either side. It helped: any lack of confidence he
might have felt was suddenly bolstered.

'No he won't,' Will replied, calmly.

'How can you be so sure?'

'Because there will be three of us and only one of him.'

A silence followed, as Pankhurst seemed to be weighing
up his options. 'Ahmed will know it's a trap.'

'Of course he will,' Will countered. 'But think about it. He
was willing to risk being discovered by al-Qaeda just to make
sure his sister was well treated. Everything we know about
him suggests that he'll do whatever it takes to rescue her.'

Again Pankhurst fell silent.

'You won't break her,' Will insisted, quietly. 'You know
that. She'd rather die.'

A tense hush filled the room. Everyone knew that a
woman's life depended on what was said next.

'London's beginning to resemble Ulster twenty years ago,'
Pankhurst announced without taking his eyes offWill. 'We've
shut down the major terminals, main artery roads are closed,
we've got unmarked cars in every other street. All leave's
been suspended from the Met and there's armed police at
every underground station. The population of the capital is
in a frenzy - they know something's around the corner and
they're right.' He stopped a moment to let that sink in. 'If
this goes wrong,' he continued,'you know what will happen.
You know the stakes.'

Will nodded. 'It won't go wrong,' he said.

He looked to either side of him, where Drew and Kennedy
were standing up straight, exuding confidence and menace.
Their silent support made him feel a great deal more sure
of himself.