Honour Among Thieves Part 10

On your instructions, he has returned to Baghdad to inform you, in person, of what progress he has made. I have not had an opportunity to speak to him, Mr President, so you will forgive me if I appear, like yourself, to be a seeker after information.'

Saddam waved his cigar again to let the Foreign Minister know that he should get on with it.

'Perhaps I could start, Deputy Amba.s.sador' - Al Obaydi was surprised by such a formal address, as their two families had known each other for generations, but he accepted that to show friendship of any kind in front of Saddam was tantamount to an admission of conspiracy - 'by asking you to bring us all up to date on the President's imaginative scheme.'

'Thank you, Foreign Minister,' replied Al Obaydi, as if he had never met the man before. He turned back to face Saddam, whose black eyes remained fixed on him.

'May I begin, Mr President, by saying what an honour it has been to be entrusted with this task, especiallyremembering the idea had emanated from Your Excellency personally.' Every member of the Council was now concentrating his attention on the Deputy Amba.s.sador, but Al Obaydi noticed that from time to time each of them would glance in Saddam's direction to see how he was reacting.

'I am happy to be able to report that the team led by Mr Antonio Cavalli. ..'

Saddam raised a hand and looked towards the State Prosecutor, who opened a thick file in front of him.

Nakir Farrar, the State Prosecutor, was feared second only to Saddam in the Iraqi regime. Everyone knew of his reputation. A first-cla.s.s honours degree in jurisprudence at Oxford, President of the Union, and a bencher at Lincoln's Inn. That was where Al Obaydi had first come across him. Not that Farrar had ever acknowledged his existence. He had been tipped to be the first QC Iraq had ever produced. But then came the invasion of the Nineteenth Province and the British expelled the highflyer, despite several appeals from people in high places. Farrar returned to a city he had deserted at the age of eleven, and immediately offered his remarkable talent for Saddam Hussein's personal use. Within a year Saddam had appointed him State Prosecutor. A t.i.tle, it was rumoured, he had selected himself.

'Cavalli is a New York criminal, Mr President, who, because he has a law degree and heads a private legal practice, creates a legitimate front for such an operation.'

Saddam nodded and turned his attention back to Al Obaydi.

'Mr Cavalli has completed the preparation stage and his team is now ready to carry out the President's orders.'

'Do we have a date yet?' asked Farrar.

'Yes, State Prosecutor. May 25th. Clinton has a full day's schedule at the White House, with his speechwrit-ers in the morning, and his wife's health-policy task unit in the afternoon, and he' - the Iraqi Amba.s.sador to the UN had warned Al Obaydi never to refer to Clinton as 'the President'

- 'will therefore not be involved in any public engagements that day, which would have made our task impossible.'

'And tell me, Deputy Amba.s.sador,' said the State Prosecutor, 'did Mr Cavalli's lawyer succeed in getting a permit to close down the road between the White House and the National Archives during the time when Clinton will be involved in these internal meetings?'

'No, State Prosecutor, he did not,' came back Al Obaydi's reply. 'The Mayor's Office did, however, grant a permit forfilming to take place on Pennsylvania Avenue from 13 th Street east. But the road can only be closed for forty-five minutes. It seems this Mayor was not as easy to convince as her predecessor.'

A few members of the Council looked puzzled. 'Not as easy to convince?' asked the Foreign Minister.

'Perhaps "persuade" would be a better word.'

'And what form did this persuasion take?' asked General Hamil, who sat on the right of the President and knew only one form of persuasion.

'A $250,000 contribution to her re-election fund.'

Saddam began to laugh, so the others round the table followed suit.

'And the Archivist, is he still convinced it's Clinton who will be visiting him?' asked the State Prosecutor.

'Yes, he is,' said Al Obaydi. 'Just before I flew out Cavalli had taken eight of his own men over the building posing as a Secret Service preliminary reconnaissance team, carrying out a site survey. The Archivist could not have been more co-operative, and Cavalli was given enough time to check out everything. That exercise should make the switching of the Declaration on May 25th far easier for him.'

'But if, and I only say if, they succeed in getting the original out, have they made arrangements for pa.s.sing the doc.u.ment over to you?' asked the State Prosecutor.

'Yes,' replied Al Obaydi confidently. 'I understand that the President wants the doc.u.ment to be delivered to Barazan Al-Tikriti, our venerated Amba.s.sador to the United Nations in Geneva. When he has received the parchment, and not before, I will authorise the final payment.'

The President nodded his approval. After all, the venerated Amba.s.sador in Geneva was his half-brother. The State Prosecutor continued his questioning.

'But how can we be sure that what is handed to us will be the original, and not just a first-cla.s.s copy?' he demanded.

'What's to prevent them from making a show of walking in and out of the National Archives, but not actually switching the doc.u.ments?'

A smile appeared on Al Obaydi's lips for the first time.

'I took the precaution, State Prosecutor, of demanding such proof,' he replied. 'When the fake replaces the original, it will continue to be displayed for the general public to view. You can be a.s.sured that I shall be among the general public''But you have not answered my question,' said the State Prosecutor sharply. 'How will you know ours is the original?'

'Because on the original doc.u.ment penned by Timothy Matlock, there is a simple spelling mistake, which has been corrected on the copy executed by Bill O'Reilly'

The State Prosecutor reluctantly sat back in his chair when his master raised a hand.

'Another criminal, Excellency,' explained the Foreign Minister. 'This time a forger, who has been responsible for making the copy of the doc.u.ment.'

'So,' said the State Prosecutor, leaning forward once again, 'if the incorrect spelling is still on the doc.u.ment displayed in the National Archives on May 25th, you will know we have a fake and will not pay out another cent. Is that right?'

'Yes, State Prosecutor,' said Al Obaydi.

'Which word on the original has been incorrectly spelt?'

demanded the State Prosecutor.

When the Deputy Amba.s.sador told him, all Nakir Farrar said was, 'How appropriate,' and then closed the file in front of him.

'However, it will still be necessary for me to have the final payment to hand,' continued Al Obaydi, 'should I be satisfied that they have carried out their part of the bargain, and that we are in possession of the original parchment.'

The Foreign Minister looked towards Saddam who, again, nodded.

'It will be in place by May 25th,' said the Foreign Minister. 'I would like the opportunity to go over some of the details with you before your return to New York.

As long as that meets with the President's approval?'

Saddam waved a hand to indicate that such a request was not important to him. His eyes remained fixed on Al Obaydi.

The Deputy Amba.s.sador wasn't sure if he was meant to leave or await further questioning. He favoured caution, and remained seated and silent. It was some time before anyone spoke.

'You must be curious, Hamid, about why I place such importance on this sc.r.a.p of useless paper.' As the Deputy Amba.s.sador had never met the President before, he was surprised to be called by his first name.

'It is not for me to question Your Excellency's reasoning,' replied Al Obaydi.

'Nevertheless,' continued Saddam, 'you would be less thanhuman not to wonder why I am willing to spend one hundred million dollars and at the same time risk international embarra.s.sment should you fail.'

Al Obaydi noted the word 'you' with some discomfort.

'I would be fascinated to know, Sayedi, if you felt able to confide in such an unworthy soul.'

Twelve members of the Council looked towards the President to gauge his reaction to the Deputy Amba.s.sador's comment. Al Obaydi felt immediately that he had gone too far. He sat, terrified, during what felt like the longest silence in his life.

'Then I shall let you share my secret, Hamid,' said Saddam, his black eyes boring into the Deputy Amba.s.sador.

'When I captured the Nineteenth Province for my beloved people, I found myself at war not with the traitors we had invaded, but the combined strength of the Western world - and that despite an agreement previously reached with the American Amba.s.sador. "Why?" I had to ask, when everyone knew that Kuwait was run by a few corrupt families who had little interest in the welfare of their own people. I'll tell you why. In one word, oil. Had it been coffee beans that the Nineteenth Province was exporting, you would never have seen as much as an American rowing boat armed with a catapult enter the Gulf.'

The Foreign Minister smiled and nodded.

'And who were the leaders who ganged up against me?

Thatcher, Gorbachev and Bush. That was less than three years ago. And what has happened to them since? Thatcher was removed by a coup carried out by her own supporters; Gorbachev was deposed by a man he himself had sacked only a year before and whose own position now looks unstable; Bush suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of the American people. While I remain the Supreme Leader and President of my country.'

There followed a burst of applause which died instantly when Saddam began speaking again.

'That, of course, would be ample reward for most people.

But not me, Hamid. Because Bush's place has been taken by this man Clinton, who has learned nothing from his predecessor's mistakes, and who now also wishes to challenge my supremacy. But this time it is my intention to humiliate him along with the American infidels long before they are given the opportunity to do so. And I shall go about this insuch a way that will make it impossible for Clinton to recover any credibility in his lifetime. I intend to make Clinton and the American people the laughing stock of the world.'

The heads continued nodding.

'You have already witnessed my ability to turn the greed of their own people into a willingness to steal the most cherished doc.u.ment in their nation's history. And you, Hamid, are the chosen vessel to ensure that my genius will be acknowledged.' Al Obaydi lowered his head.

'Once I am in possession of the Declaration I shall wait patiently until the fourth of July, when the whole of America will be spending a peaceful Sunday celebrating Independence Day.' No one in the room uttered a word while the President paused.

'I shall also celebrate Independence Day, not in Washington or New York, but in Tahrir Square, surrounded by my beloved people. When I, Saddam Hussein, President of Iraq, will in front of the entire world's media burn to a cinder the American Declaration of Independence.'

Hannah lay awake in her barrack-room bed, feeling not unlike the child she had been some thirteen years before when she had spent her first night at boarding school.

She had collected Karima Saib's cases from the carousel at Charles de Gaulle airport, dreading what she might find inside them.

A driver had picked her up as promised, but as he had been unwilling to make any attempt at conversation she had no idea what to expect when they pulled up outside the Jordanian Emba.s.sy. Hannah was surprised by its size.

The beautiful old house which was set back from the boulevard Maurice Barres was formerly the home of the late Aga Khan. The Iraqi annexe had been allocated two complete floors, tangible proof that the Jordanians did not wish to get on the wrong side of Saddam.

On entering the annexe to the emba.s.sy, the first person she met was Abdul Kanuk, the Chief Administrator. He certainly didn't look like a diplomat, and when he opened his mouth she realised he wasn't. Kanuk informed her that the Amba.s.sador and his senior secretary Muna Ahmed were tied up in meetings and that she was to unpack and then wait in her room until called for.

The cramped accommodation was just about large enough for a bed and two suitcases, and might, she thought, have been astore room before the Iraqi delegation moved in. When she eventually forced open Karima Saib's suitcase she quickly discovered that the only things that fitted from her wardrobe were her shoes. Hannah didn't know whether to be relieved, because of Saib's taste, or anxious about how little of her own she had to wear.

Muna Ahmed, the senior secretary, joined her in the kitchen for supper later that evening. It seemed that secretaries in the emba.s.sy were treated on the same level as servants. Hannah managed to convince Muna that it was better than she had expected, especially since they were only able to use the annexe to the Jordanian Emba.s.sy. Muna explained that as far as the Corps Diplomatique of France was concerned, the Iraqi Amba.s.sador was to be treated only as a Head of Interest Section, although they were to address him at all times as 'Your Excellency' or 'Amba.s.sador'.

During the first few days in her new job, Hannah sat in the room next to the Amba.s.sador's on the other side of Muna's desk. She spent most of her time twiddling her fingers.

Hannah quickly discovered that no one took much interest in her as long as she completed any work the Amba.s.sador had left for her on his dictating machine. In fact that soon became Hannah's biggest problem, as she had to slow down in order to make Muna look more efficient. The only thing Hannah ever forgot was to keep wearing her see-through gla.s.ses.

In the evenings, over supper in the kitchen, Hannah learned from Muna everything that was expected of an Iraqi woman abroad, including how to avoid the advances of Abdul Kanuk, the Chief Administrator. By the second week, her learning curve had already slowed down, and increasingly Hannah found the Amba.s.sador was relying on her skills. She tried not to show too much initiative.

Once they had finished their work, Hannah and Muna were expected to remain indoors, and were not allowed to leave the building at night unless accompanied by the Chief Administrator, a prospect that didn't tempt either of them.

As Muna had no interest in music, the theatre or even going to cafes, she was happy to pa.s.s the time in her room reading the speeches of Saddam Hussein.

As the days slowly pa.s.sed Hannah began to hope that the Mossad agent in Paris would contact her so that she could be pulled out and sent back to Israel to prepare for her mission- not that she had any clue who the Mossad agent was. She wondered if they had one in the emba.s.sy. Alone in her room, she often speculated. The driver? Too slow. The gardener? Too dumb. The cook? Certainly possible - the food was bad enough to believe it was her second job. Abdul Kanuk, the Chief Administrator? Hardly, since, as he pointed out at least three times a day, he was a cousin of Barazan Al-Tikriti, Saddam Hussein's half-brother and the UN Amba.s.sador in Geneva. Kanuk was also the biggest gossip in the emba.s.sy, and supplied Hannah with more information about Saddam Hussein and his entourage in one night than the Amba.s.sador managed in a week. In truth, the Amba.s.sador rarely spoke of Sayedi in her presence, and when he did he was always guarded and respectful.

It was during the second week that Hannah was introduced to the Amba.s.sador's wife. Hannah quickly discovered that she was fiercely independent, partly because she was half Turkish, and didn't consider that it was necessarily her duty always to stay inside the emba.s.sy compound. She did things that were thought extreme by Iraqi standards, like accompanying her husband to c.o.c.k- tail parries, and she had even been known to pour herself a drink without waiting to be asked. She also went -which was more important for Hannah - twice a week to swim at the nearby public baths in the boulevard Lannes. The Amba.s.sador agreed, after a little persuasion, that it would be acceptable for the new secretary to accompany his wife.

Scott arrived in Paris on a Sunday. He had been given a key to a small flat on the avenue de Messine, and they had opened an account for him at the Societe Generale on boulevard Haussmann in the name of Simon Rosenthal.

He was to telephone or fax Langley only after he had located the Mossad agent. No other operative had been informed of his existence, and he had been told not to make contact with any field agent he had worked with in the past who was now stationed in Europe.

Scott spent the first two days discovering the nine places from which he could observe the front door of the Jordanian Emba.s.sy without being seen by anyone in the building.

By the end of a week he had begun to realise for the first time what agents really meant by the expression 'hours of solitude'. He even started to miss some of his students.

He developed a routine. Every morning before breakfast he would run for five miles in the Pare Monceau, before he beganthe morning shift. Every evening he would spend two hours in a gym on rue de Berne before cooking supper, which he ate alone in his flat.

Scott began to despair of the Mossad agent ever leaving the emba.s.sy compound, and to wonder if Miss Kopec was even in there. The Amba.s.sador's wife seemed to be the only woman to come and go as she pleased.

And then without warning, on the Tuesday of his second week, someone else left the building accompanying the Amba.s.sador's wife. Was it Hannah Kopec? He only caught a fleeting glimpse as the car sped away.

He followed the chauffeur-driven Mercedes, always remaining at an angle that would make it difficult for the Amba.s.sador's driver to spot him in his rear-view mirror. The two women were dropped outside the swimming pool on the boulevard Lannes. He watched them get out of the car. In the photographs he had been shown at Langley, Hannah Kopec had had long black hair. The hair was now cropped, but it was unquestionably her.

Scott drove a hundred yards further down the road, turned right and parked the car. He walked back, entered the building and purchased a spectator's ticket at a cost of two francs. He strolled up to the balcony which overlooked the pool. By the time he had selected an obscure seat in the gallery the Mossad agent was already swimming up and down. It only took moments for Scott to realise how fit she was, even if the Iraqi version of a swimsuit wasn't all that alluring.

Her pace slowed when the Amba.s.sador's wife appeared at the edge of the pool, after which she ventured only an occasional dog-paddle from one side to the other.

Some forty minutes later, when the Amba.s.sador's wife left the pool, Kopec immediately quickened her pace, covering each length in under a minute. When she had swum ten lengths she pulled herself out of the water and disappeared towards the changing room.

Scott returned to his car, and when the two women reappeared he allowed the Mercedes to overtake him before following them back to the emba.s.sy.

Later that night he faxed Dexter Hutchins at Langley to let him know he had seen her, and would now try to make contact.

The following morning, he bought a pair of swimming trunks.

It was on the Thursday that Hannah first noticed him. Hewas doing the crawl at a steady rate, completing each length in about forty seconds, and looked as if he might once have been a useful athlete. She tried to keep up with his pace but could only manage five lengths before he stretched away. She watched him pull himself out of the water after another dozen lengths and head off in the direction of the men's changing room.

On Monday morning the following week, the Amba.s.sador's wife informed Hannah that she wouldn't be able to go for their usual swim the next day as she would be accompanying the Amba.s.sador on his visit to Saddam Hussein's half-brother in Geneva. Hannah had already been told about the trip by the Chief Administrator, who seemed to know even the finest details.

'I can't think why you haven't been invited to join the Amba.s.sador as well,' said the cook that evening. The Chief Administrator was silenced for about two minutes until Muna left the kitchen to go to her room. Then he revealed a piece of information that disturbed Hannah.

The following day Hannah was given permission to go swimming by herself. She was glad to have an excuse to get out of the building, especially as Kanuk was in charge of the delegation in the Amba.s.sador's absence. He had taken the Mercedes for himself, so she made her own way to the boulevard Lannes by Metro. She was disappointed to find that the man who swam so well was nowhere to be seen when she started off on her thirty lengths. Once she had completed her exercise she clung onto the side, tired and slightly out of breath. Suddenly, she was aware that he was swimming towards her in the outside lane. When he touched the end he turned smoothly and said distinctly, 'Don't move, Hannah, I'll be back.'

Hannah a.s.sumed he must be someone who remembered her from her days as a model, and her immediate reaction was to make a run for it. But she continued to tread water as she waited for him to return, thinking he might perhaps be the Mossad agent Kratz had referred to.

She watched him swimming towards her, and became more apprehensive with each stroke. When he touched the edge he came to a sudden halt and asked, 'Are you alone?'

'Yes,' she replied.

'I thought I couldn't see the Amba.s.sador's wife. She usually displaces a great deal of water without much forward motion. By the way, I'm Simon Rosenthal. Colonel Kratzinstructed me to make contact. I have a message for you.'

Hannah felt stupid shaking hands with the man while they were both clinging onto the edge of the pool.

'Do you know the avenue Bugeaud?'