An Ordinary Day (22 page)

Amina leaned back in the uncomfortable chair in the monitoring van and looked at her cellphone. Ahmed had phoned six times and six times Amina had ignored his call. Her watch said it was ten past ten; Elhasomi had disappeared up the stairs and into the bedroom fifteen minutes earlier. Salem sat at the dining room table silently, staring vacantly at the photograph of Rachel Dahdi, as if deep in thought. Amina leaned forward towards the monitor and frowned. Salem’s behaviour was odd, out of character. He seldom sat still for any length of time, and Amina wondered what he was thinking about. Her thoughts were disturbed by the sound of a text message reaching her cellphone.

Ahmed’s message was short, but clear. ‘I am now beyond angry.’ Within a minute, Amina had packed her briefcase, locked the monitoring van and left for her apartment.

Durant reached the monitoring van at 7:30 the next morning. He hadn’t slept much. He’d cleaned up the house, watched a late movie, showered, written some reminder notes, lain in bed for a while, fixed the broken lamp and had only fallen asleep at about 1:30. At five he was up and he phoned Angela to check on Alexis, who was doing fine.

The monitoring van was warm and someone, probably Shezi, had put some Christmas decorations around the equipment. The monochrome screens showed no movement in the dining area, lounge, kitchen, bedroom landing or entrance hall. A quick phone call to Anja revealed that the surveillance unit had deployed close to the townhouse at five and hadn’t observed any movement. Neither vehicle was visible, but Durant assumed both were in the double garage. There had been no sign of the suitcases since they’d last been seen in the dining room area when Salem had opened one. The previous evening, according to Amina’s notes, the atmosphere in the townhouse had been tense and there had been little conversation between Salem and Elhasomi. Salem had made a few calls on his cellphone, but spoke outside on the balcony, out of earshot of the microphones in the house. Elhasomi also made a few calls, one arranging a meeting with someone at a container depot, but the conversation was mostly inaudible due to interference in the transmission.

Durant leaned back in the chair and stared at the monitor, which showed a dishcloth lying on the dining room table, concealing a long cylindrical shape under it. It was frustrating for Durant to look at the monitor without being able to zoom in, adjust the aperture of the camera for better definition or focus the lens to make the image clearer.

Suddenly there was a loud thud on the audio feed. The bedroom door opened and Salem exited, fully dressed and carrying a briefcase in his hand. He paused in the passageway as if he was looking for something, then walked up to the dining room table and picked up the object wrapped in the dishcloth. Finally Durant identified it as the bronze Zulu figurine. Using a handkerchief, Salem carefully placed it on the sideboard next to the table, then stashed the dish-towel and handkerchief in his briefcase. He looked around briefly and then walked towards the door leading to the garage. Anja reported that the garage door was opening and both hired cars were parked inside. Durant saw Salem walk through the door leading to the garage and close it behind him. Seconds later, Anja reported that the replacement hired car that had been delivered to Elhasomi was reversing out of the garage.

Durant was confused. ‘Confirm the male is driving the female’s car?’ he said into the radio.

‘Confirmed. His car is parked, he’s using her car. Do you want us to take him, over?’

Durant put his head in his hands and closed his eyes so tightly they hurt. He knew he had only seconds to decide whether the surveillance unit should monitor Salem or remain on the townhouse and wait for Elhasomi to leave.

‘Groundcrew, Kiteman, confirm target, over.’

‘Uh, negative, Groundcrew. Stand by, hold position, copy?’

‘Copy that, Kiteman.’

The hired car drove slowly up the street to the intersection, turned left and disappeared. Had he made the right decision? Durant wondered. Whatever, it was too late to change it.

Ali looked around nervously as a warm wind blew dry sea sand over his polished shoes. He had chosen the meeting place – an abandoned storage facility for disused shipping containers. When Elhasomi had phoned him the previous night to set up the meeting, he’d described the meeting place as central, but remote. That it was. Surrounded by the sea on the eastern side, and a high brick wall around the rest of the perimeter, the port operations, which virtually surrounded the facility, were all but invisible. There was an eerie quietness about the place, and the sight of rusted and open containers brought a sense of abandonment and desolation to the facility. It felt like a graveyard.

Ali heard a vehicle approaching slowly, and his spirits lifted when he noticed it was the vehicle Elhasomi had described to him. He stepped out from the shadow of a container and waved at the car. His arm hung uncertainly in the air momentarily as he saw that the driver of the vehicle was not Elhasomi, but a man. The car stopped close to him and the driver stepped out. ‘As Salaam,’ he said, and Ali smiled.

‘As Salaam, my friend. I was expecting a lady.’ His eyes darted to the back seat of the car where he could clearly see the large suitcase.

‘I’m the delivery boy,’ Salem said. ‘The lady was unable to make it.’

‘I see you’ve brought what I need to make the business work,’ Ali said, motioning towards the suitcase.

Salem nodded. ‘I said I’m the delivery boy. I’ve got something else to deliver.’

Ali frowned and then smiled nervously. ‘What’s that, my friend?’

‘Your heart rate’s increasing. Your blood pressure’s elevating. Small amounts of perspiration are appearing on your forehead. Do you know why?’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, my friend. Now can we do business or must I phone your boss?’

‘This is business, Mr Ali, and my boss isn’t available right now. She’s got a sore head.’

‘Ah. A sore head?’

‘Do you know what bio-regulators are?’

Ali shook his head.

‘They’re the natural organic chemicals in your body that regulate cell processes. They control your heart rate, blood pressure, temperature and immune processes.’

Ali wiped his perspiring brow with a crumpled handkerchief. ‘Is this a biology lesson?’

‘Do you know that bio-regulators can be exploited and modified artificially to attack your own body from the inside? That’s the ultimate betrayal, if you think about it. The ultimate weapon. Get a person’s own body to attack him.’

‘Why are you telling me this? I must go.’

‘I’m not done yet, Mr Ali. Can you believe that there are evil people who sit in laboratories and deliberately tamper with these natural, God-given substances and turn them into weapons of warfare?’

‘I’m a businessman. That’s none of my concern.’

‘It should be your concern, Ali. What do you think the Libyans want the fermenters for? Growing mushrooms?’

‘I don’t know who you are, but I’m leaving right now.’

‘You came for the cash, and now you want to leave without it?’

‘Who are you, sir?’ Ali’s mouth was dry and he could hear his own heartbeat.

‘These commodities you move around the world – have you ever wondered about the consequences? Do you even have a conscience, Mr Ali?’

‘I’m just a facilitator. I don’t advise on how the products should be used.’

Salem looked incredulous. ‘The products? You speak of them as if they’re hair-care products. These products kill people. You supply them.’

Ali smiled. ‘If I don’t, somebody else will. Anyway, pests need to be exterminated.’

‘You’re happy to allow children to breathe in genetically modified bio-regulators that cause their hearts to slowly stop beating? Cause their brains to shut down?’

‘Do the Americans who work at the factory which makes
M
16 rifles ever think about the children the Marines will kill in Afghanistan?’

‘Your analogy isn’t valid. An
M
16 rifle never killed masses of people indiscriminately. And a bullet is a quick death.’

‘I’ve just remembered.’ Ali smiled. ‘Now I know who you are. Salem. You came with Elhasomi.’

Salem didn’t flinch. ‘I want you to think carefully now, Ali. Who will the Libyans use this weapon against? South Africa? Not likely. Egypt? Never. What about Israel? What about the Jews? That would be a more likely target wouldn’t it? How am I doing?’

Ali felt the stirrings of fear, a feeling he hadn’t felt in years. He put a hand on the shipping container to steady himself. ‘What do you want from me?’

‘I was born in the Lebanon. I lived amongst good Muslim people as a child. My best friends were Arabs; we played together under the cedars, I spoke Arabic fluently, learnt the cultures, participated in the politics. In those days, life was much less complicated. I didn’t think being Jewish really mattered that much; nobody really looked at me any differently. I spoke like them, dressed like them, I was one of them.’

Ali looked over his shoulder briefly.

‘Looking for the big ugly guy in the suit and dark glasses? The guy who was carrying this?’

Salem slid a silenced 9mm pistol from under his jacket. ‘He gave it to me, sort of. Good protection is hard to get these days, isn’t it? Your guy won’t need the gun where he’s going.’

Ali had the urge to sink to his knees, but his pride held him upright.

‘I have a great respect for Muslims. Most of them are honourable and peace-loving. The ones who are bitter and militant sometimes even have a good reason to be that way.’

Ali didn’t look up. Salem’s eyes were too cold for him to bear, the muzzle of the 9mm too hard.

‘Please, Mr Salem. I’m not as evil as you make out. I’ve never harmed anyone. I’m just a businessman.’

‘I’ve spent less than a quarter of my life in Israel,’ Salem continued. ‘I was happy to be used wherever I could change things for the better. When I was young, I thought the differences between us weren’t important. I thought, as a child, we could work things out, as children do. But there’s too much hatred. There are too many who wish to see Israel simply disappear as if there never was a Jewish state and a Jewish people. I couldn’t let that happen. I promised myself that I would make my country safe for my children and my children’s children, whatever the cost.’

Ali looked up into Salem’s eyes for a faint sign of compassion. He only saw determination and steadfastness, which terrified him.

‘Elhasomi,’ Ali stammered, ‘you came with Elhasomi.’

Salem’s eyes narrowed marginally. ‘That doesn’t matter to you now.’

‘No, no, wait! You’re staying in the townhouse in Morningside with her. I know something about the house. Let me go and I’ll phone you with the information, something very valuable to you. What’s your mobile number?’ Ali half-turned, looked at the pistol pointed at him, remembered he’d always encouraged Anwar to load devastating hollow-point rounds into the magazine, and stood still. He wished Mojo hadn’t taken the day off. Mojo wouldn’t have let himself be disarmed.

Salem laughed. ‘Ali, I told you none of that matters now.’

‘The police – everyone – they’ve got your townhouse wired up. They know all about you; they’ll find you. I’m the only one who can help you.’

‘You die with a lie in your mouth.’

The silenced pistol made two soft thuds and Ali stood still momentarily, head bowed, then fell forward into the dust.

Durant was growing impatient. It was now afternoon and there had still been no movement in the house. Amina phoned in to say she had met Mrs Meer at the shop in Prospecton, but she reported nothing interesting. Shezi also called to say that he was making some progress in the investigation into wine exporters and importers and Salem’s company in Malta. Amina relieved him at around ten and he visited Stephanie at the hospital for an hour. She was sedated and he wondered if she even knew he was there. He returned to the van at lunchtime and Amina asked if she could take the afternoon off because she wanted to have coffee with Ahmed and sort out some personal issues. She’d barely left when his cellphone rang and an unidentified number appeared.