Rip Tide

As Khan went on – by now he was trying to reach Egypt overland from Lebanon – she interrupted less, and gradually stopped asking any questions at all. He continued talking, apparently thinking that his avalanche of words somehow made his story credible. Finally he seemed to realise that he was not convincing her, and came to a sudden halt. There was silence in the room.

‘So,’ said Liz eventually, ‘where is your passport?’

‘I lost it.’

‘Then how did you get across all these borders?’

He said nothing, obviously trying to think of an answer that would not incriminate him.

It was time to up the pace. ‘Come on, Amir. Why were you in Somalia?’

‘I just wanted to see it.’

‘Who were you with?’

‘A couple of guys I met.’

‘Where did you meet them?’

‘In Egypt. We met in Cairo.’

‘What were their names?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘How did you get to Somalia?’

‘By car. Jeep, actually.’

‘Whose car?’

‘It was rented.’

‘What, there’s a Hertz agency in Mogadishu?’

Khan said nothing.

Liz went on. ‘Were you in Yemen before then?’

‘No.’

‘Have you ever been to Yemen?’

‘No,’ he said crossly.

‘Who in Pakistan gave you your orders?’

And before he had time to think, he snapped back, ‘It wasn’t in Pakis-’ Then stopped, aware of his slip. He looked down at the table, mortified.

Liz smiled. ‘Why don’t you tell me the truth now? You must be tired of inventing.’

Khan hesitated, and for a second Liz thought his moment of carelessness might have broken down his guard. He seemed on the very edge of caving in. She waited but he said no more. Lifting his head, he looked straight at her.

‘Do you have any message for your parents?’ she asked.

His eyes widened with shock. ‘What have they got to do with this? They don’t know anything about it.’ But as he looked at Liz tears started to well up. He bent his head to wipe them away with the shirt sleeve on his manacled arm.

Liz waited but something, whether determination, fear or training, reasserted itself. Having regained control of himself, Khan’s features hardened and he squared his shoulders. ‘I’ve got nothing more to say to you,’ he declared.

Liz waited a moment but his gaze was steely again, determined. ‘I want to go back to my cell,’ he announced, and there was not even a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

Liz stood up reluctantly. ‘If you change your mind, let them know and I’ll come back.’ She walked over to the door, and the guard opened it to let her through. Khan could have asked to go to his cell an hour ago and spared us both, she thought. But at least she’d learned one useful thing.

Chapter 6

Liz and Cassale retraced their steps to the grim reception room on the Rue Messier side of the prison. ‘Let’s get out of this place and have some coffee,’ he suggested, to Liz’s relief.

Outside the prison she breathed deeply, taking in lungsful of warm air and blinking in the bright midday sun. Cassale took her elbow. ‘This way,’ he said, steering her along the pavement towards the Boulevard Arago, where the new leaves were unfurling on the plane trees.

They stopped at a pavement café. As the coffee arrived, Cassale lit a Gitane and asked, ‘Any luck?’

‘Not much,’ she admitted.

‘Did he talk at all?’

She waited while a young man walked past their table. He was dark – from Algeria perhaps, or equally plausibly from the Middle East. For a moment it looked as though he might sit down nearby, but he went inside the café.

Liz said with a snort, ‘He certainly talked! He would have made a great storyteller in another life. He was trying to convince me that he’s been swanning round Europe, apparently without a passport or any money, and ended up in Somalia by mistake. I’ll send you my notes of what he said; if you believe any of it I’ll be amazed.’

Cassale looked sympathetic. ‘Frustrating. Still, it’s good that he talked at all. Well done.’

‘He did more or less acknowledge that he was acting under someone else’s orders – and that he wasn’t given the orders in Pakistan.’

‘Really? Where did he receive them then – in England?’

‘I don’t know, and he wasn’t saying. If you can find out anything about that it would be a big help.’

Cassale nodded. ‘Do you know if you will want him back in England?’

‘We’ve got a bit of work to do first. At least he admitted that he was Amir Khan. We’ve located his parents in Birmingham, and we’ll see what they say, though I gather they’re very respectable people and will probably be as surprised as I was to hear about their son. When I mentioned them, Khan got very upset – he just managed to stop himself from crying. You might want to try that on him again.’ Liz looked at her watch. ‘I’d better be going if I’m to catch my train.’

‘Of course.’ Cassale put some coins on the table and pushed back his chair. ‘Before you do, is there is anything in particular we should try and get out of him? Assuming he will now talk to us as well.’