Empire State Part 23

Herrick took stock. There was absolutely nothing she could do. The question was, what did he plan?

He smiled and moved to sit on the side of the bath. 'In my culture the use of water - the preparation and purification of the woman's body - is part of the act of love. Properly, there should be no division between the two.'

'In my culture you are committing a crime and behaving like an a.r.s.ehole.'

'I mean you no harm. I took this away from you so that you didn't shoot me as we talked. That's all.' He pulled up his sleeve and slid his hand into the water, then ran it up and down the inside of her calf, stroking her other leg with the backs of his fingers. 'What were you listening to when I came in? Can I hear it too?'

'Please stop doing that.'

'What were you listening to?'

'One of the recordings I made of our conversations. You were there.'

'There's nothing to hear. We have done nothing. We are what we seem.'

'In which case you don't have anything to worry about. Would you please stop touching me?' She lifted his hand out of the water and placed it on the side of the bath. He dried it on his sleeve, then touched her face.

'Another place and another time, Isis, and we...'

'Give me my towel and my clothes, then leave!'

'We haven't had our talk,' he protested. His hand went to her face and played on her forehead and cheek, then slipped round to her neck. 'You know, this would be as great a pleasure for you as it would be for me.' His finger traced a line round the depression at the base of her throat. 'I could do so much for you.' He paused. 'After all, we may never see each other again and I for one would regret that we did not take the opportunity that has been given to us here.'

Herrick shifted her position in the bath and tried to read his expression in the light of the lamp. 'Look,' she said, her tone softening. 'You are an attractive man. Anyone can see that. And yes, in other circ.u.mstances I might be tempted. Even now I find myself drawn to you. But threatening me is no way to seduce me, and you are threatening me.'

'I am not,' he said with a note of injury.

'But you must see that to walk in here, take my gun and then use your advantage to touch me is very threatening behaviour.' She paused. 'Now, I am going to get out of this bath and I want you to hand me my clothes.' With this she stood up and faced him, without bothering to hide herself. He picked up the lamp and stood.

'Really, you're quite beautiful.'

'My towel,' she said, putting out her hand.

He did not move.

She lifted her foot to the flat rim of the bath.

'Stay,' he said. 'Stay there. I want to look.'

'For G.o.d's sake, give me my towel!'

Instead he reached out and touched her right breast, then moved to her left side. They looked at each other for a few seconds. She shook her head and removed his hand. 'No.'

'Let's start this scene again,' he said with a sudden boyish enthusiasm. 'Believe me, it will be worth it. This is how we will do it. I will come in again and you will be dressed, and then we will take our ease together. You can drink a little of the whisky - but not too much - and we will talk.'

'Yes,' she said. 'But you will have to stop pointing that gun at me.' She stepped onto the damp floor and made for the towel herself, feeling ridiculous and very angry. As she bent down he seized her and held her in both arms so that the gun reached round to the back of her head. Then he placed his lips on her mouth and kissed her with incongruous tenderness. She did not return his kiss but pulled her head away and looked into his eyes.

'You're not going to do this. It's against everything you stand for. You render yourself a criminal in the eyes of G.o.d and a pathetic creep by the standards of the American society you profess to love.'

'No,' he said, in a tone that seemed to mock her unreasonable behaviour. 'This is what we both want. You do not understand yourself, Isis. I know this.' He bent down and kissed the top of her breast then moved to her neck with his lips. But he did not relax his grip on the gun.

'Stop,' she said, as his free hand began to explore her behind and the top of her leg. 'Why don't we talk for a while? That's what you said you wanted to do.' She shivered suddenly, knowing she would now have to scream or attempt to beat him off.

'Sure. Why not? We will talk. There's no hurry.'

'Then let me get my clothes,' she said. Without waiting for an answer she picked up the robe and put it on. Then she reached for the recorder, unplugged the earphones, and placed it in her pocket.

'What do you want to talk about?' he said indulgently.

'It was you who came to speak with me,' she said, 'but since you ask, I would like to talk more about your past.'

'You never give up,' he said.

She began to make for the door. 'Let's go and have that drink.'

'No,' he said sharply, then modified his tone. 'It's good in here. More romantic, don't you think?'

She turned. 'You said you wanted to thank me. That is exactly what you should be doing, instead of threatening me. You owe me. Without me, Karim would never have been freed. And now... well, this is a very strange way to show your grat.i.tude.'

Loz thought about this. 'I am grateful to you. But you were doing it for your own ends as well. You wanted to know about Karim, just like the others did.'

'With good reason,' she said. 'We're fighting a war and Khan made some connections we're interested in.'

'Is this the way to fight your so-called war against terror? With torture, holding people without trial or legal representation, bombing innocent civilians? You know those people being held by the Americans? n.o.body even knows their names.'

She shook her head. 'You know what I think about torture and that goes for the whole of the British government and scores of other countries in the West. Whatever the deficiencies of the war against al-Qaeda, it must be obvious that we did not start this thing.'

'But you did. Don't you see that?' Again the sudden flash of temper. 'Look at the conditions of the Middle East, the people in Palestine. Look at the poverty here in Egypt. Look at Africa. These people are suffering because of the West's greed and selfishness. No one can argue against this truth.'

'Look,' she replied quite calmly, 'we all understand that the West must help less wealthy nations and that we all have to do something about the social problems, but let me just remind you that in Arab countries torture is routine. Remember why the CIA brought Khan here - because he was being strung up to the roof of a prison cell by an Arab government. So don't give me a lot of bulls.h.i.t about the mistreatment of suspects in the West. Torture and imprisonment without trial is the norm in your world.'

'You do not understand! You have not seen how our people suffered in Bosnia, in Palestine. Everywhere. That's what we are fighting for.'

'Fighting for, Dr Loz? Who are you fighting for? You're a US citizen and you enjoy all the delights and riches of the West, yet you say you're fighting. For whom? Against what?'

'No... I mean, the Arab peoples. This is what they are fighting for. They struggle for... justice.'

She exhaled heavily, realising that he was on the point of making an admission, and once he had there would be no turning back. He would have to kill her. At the moment there was still a residue of the urbane Manhattan doctor, the pretence of reason and consensus, but it had slipped twice already that day and she was certain he would not leave that room without getting what he wanted. 'Let's go and sit down utside,' she said quietly.

He shook his head.

'Look, it's you who needs to relax. You've barely had any sleep in the last three days.'

'I am fine,' he said. 'We will stay here.'

'Then let me get a cigarette.'

'No.' He raised the gun. 'Sit there.'

She wiped the edge of the bath with her towel and sat down.

'Let's not pretend any more,' she said. 'We're on different sides. You know what I do and I now have a pretty good idea of what you are. For example, I guessed you were injured in Afghanistan, not Bosnia, and that Karim Khan saved you there and took you to Pakistan to be treated. All along you have been worried not about Karim - poor, misguided Karim - but about what he might reveal. You knew you couldn't rely on him because, let's face it, he's really quite naive, and the only reason he didn't tell them about you was because his interrogators didn't know precisely what questions to ask. Until you got the first postcard, you believed that the only man who could harm you was safely tucked away in Afghanistan, maybe even dead. Then the card came and you realised he was on the loose and - more dangerous to you and your organisation - untraceable in the shifting population of migrant workers coming from the East.'

Loz's eyes were utterly expressionless. 'Go on,' he said.

'Well, it's pretty simple really. The picture you had of Khan wasn't given to you by a homeless man in New York. You brought it back with you from Afghanistan. For some reason I recall that in 1998 all photography was banned by the Taleban except for official purposes. The portrait of Khan looks very much like the ones from the Taleban's records recently handed over by the Northern Alliance. So my guess is that you were in Afghanistan in 1998 or 1999 for a period of training and planning. And you managed to get a copy of one of those pictures. You were there. I'm right, aren't I?'

'You're forgetting that I'm a Shi'ite.' He said evenly. 'The people in Afghanistan were all Sunni Muslims, like Karim.'

'That's a detail. The point about your war is that it's not really about religious practice, despite all that bulls.h.i.t about jihad; it's about the inequalities between the West and Islam. That's what you're fighting against, although the foot soldiers like Khan really have no notion of this. You don't believe it's a religious war any more than I do. It's about economics.'

'You're wrong,' he said.

'But look at your life in New York - the material wealth, the women, the fornication. What does the Koran say? "Approach not fornication; surely it is an indecency and evil as a way." But that is your way. Or is this just the sacrifice you've made to create a convincing cover? I think not. I think you genuinely bought all that stuff and you're such a f.u.c.king freak that you manage somehow to reconcile it with your other lives.'

He shrugged good-naturedly. 'You think I am a split personality, Isis.'

'Nothing so simple. You have compartments with communicating doors. Each side is conscious of the other and fully aware of what it is doing, but you can close the doors.'

'Maybe you see into me a little.'

'And The Poet?' she said rhetorically. 'The Poet doesn't exist, not in any relevant way today. But I do believe there's another man you have been protecting, an individual whom Khan knows but doesn't, or didn't, see the importance of. He gets it now because you have been schooling the answers he gives me.'

He shook his head. 'You won't be asking Karim any questions now.' He looked down. 'But since you have chosen to press the issue, which is certainly an unwise course for you, I can tell you that The Poet exists - it was the name we used in Bosnia when this individual, as you call him, refused to tell us his real name. This lasted a matter of days and when we learnt his real name we stopped calling him The Poet.'

'And this man is running your organisation - another Shi'ite perhaps?'

'I cannot answer you.'

'From Lebanon?'

He grinned. 'I can't tell you these things, Isis.'

'But you can. What good is it to me now? I know what you intend here. What is his name?'

He thought for a moment and smiled to himself. 'His name is John.'

'John?'

'Yes, John.' He laughed. 'Now, we do have some unfinished...' He looked down. A small green frog had hopped into a pool of light on the floor and remained there, blinking. This was the moment she had been readying herself for. She launched herself from the edge of the bath towards his stomach, but he had antic.i.p.ated the move. He stepped out of the way, caught one of her arms and pulled her round like a rock'n'roll dancer into his chest. Then he lifted her with a strength that took her by surprise and placed her on the side of the bath, forcing her legs apart.

'No! Not like this,' she shouted out.

He stopped and held her by the shoulders. The gun was pointed at her right temple. 'Then you will behave.'

She shook her head, thinking only of how she could wrest the gun from him.

Then he did something odd. He stroked her face, brushing his hand across her lips and eyebrows. He considered her once more. 'You are a real beauty, Isis. You have a secret beauty. That's it - a secret beauty.' He pressed his mouth to hers hungrily and moved between her legs. 'You understand,' he said under his breath. 'I didn't want it this way. I wanted us to make love like equals.'

The gun had slipped down and now she was sure it must be pointing at the wall behind her. She put her arms around his neck. As she did so a triumphant smile flickered at the corners of his mouth and he kissed her neck.

'Tell me you want me,' he said.

'I want you,' she replied.

He was touching her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She now felt such loathing for him that she was prepared to risk anything to stop him. The only way that presented itself to her was to use the purchase she now had on his shoulders to headb.u.t.t him. But she was slightly above him, and any blow would only connect with the top of his head. She had to get him to look up to her. 'I want you,' she said, smiling with as much acquiescence as she could muster and drawing back as though to see him clearly.

'I knew you desired me all along,' he said.

Then she hit him, not with her head, but with a chop of her hand at the carotid artery. He fell back but still managed to hold onto her with his left arm. And then she felt the incredible, athletic energy of him as he spun her round so that she was facing the bath, and forced her head down to within a few inches of the water. He was cursing, pulling her robe up and working her legs apart.

It was then that the first explosion occurred.

Herrick was thrown upwards and flipped over like a leaf so that she landed half in the bath, her body bent backwards. The blast seemed to have caused the room first to depressurise and then fill with a second deafening thunderclap. She knew nothing for several seconds, but then recovered enough to tell herself that she was still alive. She rolled into the bath and covered her head with her hands, concerning herself only with the masonry and timber falling from the roof. She had heard a cry from Loz at the moment of the explosion, but that was all.

A few seconds later there was another, equally demonic explosion, but this time another part of the area was. .h.i.t and she was able to better comprehend what was happening. There were three distinct stages after the initial impact: a huge reverberation that must have been heard twenty miles away, a whoosh of air, and a short time afterwards, sounds of collapse and pulverisation.

She waited for a third blast, now convinced that the island was under bombardment from the bank of the river. But nothing came, and the only noise she could hear was a fire taking hold somewhere across the courtyard. She began to push upwards against a ma.s.s of debris that was trapping her in the bath. It was no good. For minutes on end she grappled with a beam and what seemed to be a large chunk of plaster attached to some stone, which lay across the top of the bath and gave her room to manoeuvre. All the time she could smell the fire taking hold. She lay back in the water, deciding that her best chance was to work at an opening she had found with her foot near the tap. This required her to bunch her legs to her chest and force herself forward in a somersault. It took many contortions and compressions of her frame before she managed it and then she was so out of breath that it was several minutes before she began working to enlarge the hole. At length she thrust her head and right shoulder through it and was able to start shifting larger pieces of stone and wood. A few minutes more and she was free, scrambling through the roof of the bath-house to see the damage in the light of two fires.

The first explosion had occurred in the rotunda and completely obliterated the structure, together with the stairway and the rooms either side. The second had hit the buildings on the far side of the courtyard. Where Harland and she had sat talking the first night, there was now a crater measuring thirty feet across. The wooden terrace and building had been atomised. She clambered down, cutting her foot on a piece of metal, and reached the ground. Two figures were running towards her from the north end of the island shouting her name. She sank to the ground, and before she knew what had happened, she was looking up into the anxious faces of Philip Sarre and Joe Lapping.

'Are you all right?' said Sarre.

'Yes... I think so. Where the f.u.c.k... did you?' she stopped, spat the dust from her mouth and wiped the blood and sweat from her face. Her eyes and hair were caked in a kind of clay. 'Where did you two come from?'

'We were over there,' said Lapping pointing to the east bank.

'Since yesterday. We were told to keep our heads down while you were getting so much from Sammi Loz.'

'But what the h.e.l.l happened?'

Sarre shook his head. 'Joe'll explain - where are Loz and Khan?'

She pointed to the bath-house. 'Loz was in there with me. He must be dead. Khan might be alive. He's over there in the part that wasn't hit. I don't understand,' she stammered. 'What happened?'

'We think it was friendly fire,' said Lapping. 'It looks very much as though you were hit by a couple of h.e.l.lfire missiles delivered by a Predator. We heard it earlier and were halfway across the river when we saw the first strike.'

They heard Sarre shouting.

'Right, you stay here, old girl,' said Lapping. 'I'm just going to see what he wants. Be back in a tick.'

She looked up. Between the gaps in the smoke the cloud was beginning to clear, and one or two stars were showing again.

PART THREE.