Hostage (13 page)

That was also a possibility that couldn’t be ruled out, of course, and it could explain a great deal that currently seemed incomprehensible.

‘But in that case, why did he board the plane?’ Sebastian said.

‘Good question,’ Eden replied.

‘Could we ask him over the phone?’ Alex said.

Or would such a conversation do more harm than good?

‘I’m not sure,’ Eden said. ‘But I think the answer is no, we can’t.’

‘Because if he is involved, then we’d be giving away what we know.’

‘Exactly.’

Alex pushed one hand into his trouser pocket.

‘We ought to be able to speak to his family, to his wife,’ he said. ‘The whole story is out there anyway, so I think that’s something we have to do in any
case.’

He had hardly finished speaking before he realised what he was saying.

‘Bloody hell,’ he said, leaping to his feet.

Eden understood immediately.

‘Your son’s family,’ she said, looking worried. ‘You haven’t spoken to them yet.’

‘I didn’t even think about them until I started talking about Karim’s family. I need to speak to Erik’s sister. And to Diana, my partner.’

He looked very unhappy.

‘Erik’s family are on a plane to South America,’ he said. ‘I won’t be able to reach them until they’ve landed.’

‘Go and call the people you can reach right away,’ Eden said. ‘And you’re right, we have to speak to Karim’s family too.’

‘We’re also setting up a crisis line for the relatives of the four hundred passengers,’ Sebastian said with a sigh. ‘I spoke to the Foreign Office and the Justice
Department earlier, but apparently, it’s the police who are expected to deal with this. The Information Office has already set up an exchange and issued a direct number.’

Eden gave him a grateful look as Alex slipped out of the room.

‘We have to move on, and fast,’ Eden said. ‘Alex is right, we’ll start with a visit to Karim’s home. I’d like you to go as soon as Alex gets back.’

She glanced at Dennis, the head of the investigation unit.

Sebastian indicated that he had something to say.

‘There’s something else.’

Eden looked at him.

‘We called all the phones that were used to make the four bomb threats yesterday. They’re all switched on.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘It’s true. We’ve managed to trace them through the phone mast, and it appears that all four phones are in the same place. Inside the airport complex. We’ve got teams on
the way there now to try and find them.’

How was it possible that someone who had made a point of making each call on a different phone that couldn’t be traced had then left the phones switched on, enabling the police to find
them? Eden didn’t know what to think. Either they were dealing with an amateur, or someone who was careless. Or else, they were heading straight into a trap, meticulously rigged by someone
who was holding four hundred passengers hostage.

I
t was morning, but still dark outside. Bruce was wishing he’d had more sleep during the night. If he’d known he was going to be up so
goddamn early, he would have sent Daisy home much sooner. Daisy with the long legs. The woman he couldn’t live with, couldn’t live without. A classic crap relationship, in other
words.

One of the secretaries came into his office.

‘They’re here.’

Bruce gathered up his papers and quickly made his way to the conference room on the ground floor, where four CIA agents were waiting for him. The resources allocated to counter-terrorism
measures had increased significantly within the FBI in recent years, and the same was true of the CIA. Bruce wished he’d brought some back up along when he saw how many agents had turned up
from the other organisation. It made the Bureau appear inferior.

He steeled himself. He knew that the CIA had information he needed, and he had no intention of giving up until he’d got it out of them.

The CIA agents sat down in a row along one side of the table. Pitching up at this meeting alone had definitely been a mistake.

‘Thanks for coming at such short notice,’ Bruce said, sitting down.

‘No problem. I hardly need to say that we’re just as worried about all this as you are.’

The man who spoke occupied one of the middle seats. He had an air of natural authority within the group, and Bruce knew he was the one who had been nominated to speak on behalf of them all.
Bruce thought they had met once before; was his name – or was he known as – Green? If he remembered correctly, he was one of the heads of the CIA’s international counter-terrorism
unit.

‘Of course.’

‘The fact is, before we do anything we need to have a discussion about which of us actually has the responsibility for this issue.’

Fuck. Bruce felt a surge of anger. His boss would take him apart for having put himself in such an obviously inferior position.

‘As we see it, according to the information we have received, the FBI has the lead on this matter.’

The man opposite smiled.

‘That’s strange, because we feel the CIA has the lead. At least as long as the plane is outside US air space.’

He had a point, and Bruce knew it.

‘That doesn’t change a thing. The plane’s intended destination is New York, which is, as you know, US territory. And therefore the responsibility of the FBI.’

The CIA was legally banned from operating on US soil; they hardly needed reminding of that fact.

‘Let’s not argue about this right now,’ Green said. ‘I understood from your message that you had some questions about Tennyson Cottage.’

‘That’s right. As you know, Tennyson Cottage is named in the bomb threat that was found on the plane. Needless to say, I’m wondering how the person who wrote the note could
possibly know about Tennyson Cottage, and secondly, what it has to do with Zakaria Khelifi.’

Green sat in silence for a moment, his plump forehead deeply furrowed.

‘I must be honest and admit that we can’t answer either of your questions. Which is incredibly embarrassing, of course, but true nonetheless.’

‘You must be able to give me something to work on,’ Bruce said. ‘Names, dates, telephone numbers, anything at all with a Swedish connection.’

Green exchanged a few muttered words with the colleague on his left. Unbelievable. Bruce realised that none of the others was going to speak during the meeting. Green was in charge, and that was
the end of it.

‘As I’m sure you understand, Tennyson Cottage is part of the most sensitive, and therefore the most secret element of our operations. With all the rumours about torture and
waterboarding over the past few years, places like Tennyson Cottage are simply not up for discussion. It’s out of the question.’

‘I’m afraid it’s too late for that,’ Bruce said. ‘Tennyson Cottage has already been leaked to the media. It’s only a question of time before some journalist
sits down and Googles the name, and finds the meagre amount of information available on the internet. It’s enough for them to work out what kind of place it is.’

‘Exactly,’ Green said. ‘Which is why we need to lay low, restrict the dissemination of information about what goes on there to the fewest people possible.’

Bruce didn’t have the energy to carry on being diplomatic. It was getting him nowhere in any case.

‘And I’m not part of this restricted group?’

‘Let’s not get upset for no reason. Naturally we will co-operate with the FBI as necessary.’

They were sitting in a sandpit, digging big holes with little spades and harsh words.

Green leaned across the table.

‘I will give you what you need. But not a word to the Swedes. Any information they receive will come from us. Is that clear?’

Bruce nodded.

‘Tennyson Cottage is one of our newer institutions,’ Green went on. ‘It’s only been operating for just over three years. We’ve kept it as a limited facility; we
didn’t want to make it too big or too well known. You could say that some of the really difficult cases ended up there. High-ranking members of Al Qaeda, when we want them to start
talking.’

Start talking.

Bruce knew what that meant. And he was one of those who didn’t like it. Torture belonged back in the Dark Ages. Besides which, it was pointless. You couldn’t rely on information that
was forced out of someone with the help of electric shocks or waterboarding or similar methods. However, he didn’t share his views with Green, otherwise the meeting would have been over
before it had even started.

‘It’s hardly one of our most important detention facilities, but it has served its purpose with a certain amount of success. A total of approximately fifty detainees have been held
there. We have tried to limit the numbers. No more than fifteen at a time, and no one has stayed longer than six months.’

‘You just pumped them for what they knew, then moved them on?’

‘That was the idea, and that’s how it worked. Of the fifty or so who have been there, forty-five were taken care of in a more permanent way; some were sent back to Pakistan, where
they were handed over to our Pakistani colleagues, and some were dealt with in other ways. What has happened to them is actually of little interest; the important thing is that since their sojourn
in Tennyson Cottage, they have had extremely limited opportunities to pass on their experiences to anyone else.’

Bruce made a huge effort to remain neutral. He had met enough CIA agents to know that far from all of them shared Green’s grotesque view of how the so-called war on terror would be won,
which was why he was always equally surprised when he did come across someone like Green. Bruce also knew that it wasn’t only the US government that had held a positive view of the use of
torture to a certain extent. An astonishingly large number of the world’s democracies believed that under certain circumstances, torture could be both useful and justified.

‘But a small number have been released?’

‘A very small number. Just two, to be precise.’

‘I thought you said that around fifty detainees had been held in Tennyson Cottage, and that forty-five had been moved on to other institutions?’

Green was fiddling with the pen he was holding in one hand.

‘We lost a couple. Quite unintentionally, I can assure you. But that’s what happened. One of them had a heart attack. Another suffered from epilepsy. I mean, we had no way of knowing
that. They found him dead one morning. It was a fucking tragedy – that guy had a hell of lot to tell us.’

Bruce felt sick as he watched the pen in Green’s hands. It was as if he couldn’t bear to sit still. And as if the words spilling out of him meant jack shit to him.

‘The ones who were actually released – could they have talked about Tennyson Cottage?’

‘One of them actually did. There is an article –
just one article
– on the internet where the place is mentioned by name. The father of one of the guys turned to the
media to cry his eyes out over the damage that had been done to his son. Their names were protected in the article, but of course we realised who they were.’

Green grinned at his colleagues and they grinned back. Bruce knew they had no choice. You didn’t go against someone like Green, not unless you were prepared to ditch your entire
career.

‘Where was he from, this guy who spoke to the press?’

Bruce had seen the piece, but couldn’t remember any details.

‘He didn’t speak to them himself, it was his father. He was from Morocco; he’d travelled a long way to attend training camps in Pakistan.’

‘But he had no connection with Sweden or Khelifi?’

‘Not as far as we know.’

Bruce thought for a moment. Zakaria Khelifi also came from North Africa, but it was a tenuous link. Khelifi was Algerian, the other guy was Moroccan. Why should they know one another?

‘Listen to me,’ Green said, attempting to look trustworthy. ‘Of course it’s up to you how you choose to allocate your time, but if I were you I’d drop this idea of
trying to find a connection between Zakaria Khelifi and Tennyson Cottage. Khelifi has never set foot in the place, and nor has anyone he knows. Whoever wrote that note has simply bundled together
two things that have nothing to do with one another.’

‘In which case, it’s still interesting that the person in question chose to focus on Tennyson Cottage, which is practically unknown.’

‘Exactly. And we’re working flat out on that angle, believe me. As I explained, there are very few people who have something to say about Tennyson Cottage, so it shouldn’t be
too difficult to flush out whoever decided to use it in that note.’

‘Of course, it could just be someone who had read the article,’ Bruce said. ‘And got real mad.’

Green shook his head decisively.

‘Have you seen it? Tennyson Cottage is only mentioned in passing. The stupid fucker who wrote it had no idea what a scoop he had, right there in front of his nose.’

Green had a point. Bruce’s interpretation of the piece had been exactly the same. Tennyson Cottage was mentioned, but nothing more. It wasn’t enough to motivate a reaction like this.
Unless of course, the threat was 90 per cent about Khelifi, with Tennyson Cottage as the icing on the top. In that case, the article could well have provided the perfect inspiration.

‘We don’t know what’s more important to the hijacker,’ he said to Green. ‘Tennyson Cottage or Khelifi.’

‘No, we don’t,’ Green replied.

Then the conversation was over. Green had nothing else to say, and Bruce had no more questions. He wanted the names of those who had been held in Tennyson Cottage, but Green was only prepared to
give him the two who had been released. That would have to do for now.

‘By the way, what happened to the other guy who was released?’ Bruce said. ‘The one who didn’t feature in the newspaper article?’

‘You could say he’s living a quiet life. Don’t you worry about him.’

Bruce gathered up his things and got ready to leave the room. But none of the CIA agents on the other side of the table moved.

‘Now that we’ve finished talking about Tennyson Cottage, we can discuss another matter that has come to our attention,’ Green said.