The Protector (39 page)

The security guards at the gate seemed to be getting ready to open it. Mallory glanced around at the people converging on the line, suspecting there were more bums than available seats. Feisal appeared with his two burly bodyguards and joined the line. Mallory found it amusing that they had only one suitcase between them and the boss was carrying it. Life was unfair if nothing else. Mallory had gone through hell to acquire and then lose a million dollars and this guy simply walked into a vault once a fortnight and helped himself.

Mallory got to his feet and decided to take his chances with the flight. The opening of the security gate did not necessarily mean the flight was on but it was an indication that the airport still believed it was.

As Mallory joined the back of the line, Feisal and one of his bodyguards walked over to the ticket counter to talk with a member of the airline staff while the other minder remained in the line with the suitcase. The entrance doors to the concourse opened and a large group of men marched in with much bustle and fanfare. They were a mixture of Iraqi police officers and suited ministerial officials and they made a direct line for Feisal. As they surrounded him a boisterous row erupted. Feisal’s accompanying bodyguard was dragged aside and the bodyguard who had remained in the line immediately went to the aid of his boss.

The shouting attracted the attention of everyone in the concourse, including airport security guards who unslung their weapons from their shoulders, wondering what was going on. Feisal clearly said something to one of the officials that was less than appreciated: the temperature of the fracas went up tenfold as Feisal’s jacket lapel was grabbed. This provoked one of Feisal’s minders to grab the grabber, which had a domino effect with everyone seemingly trying to grab a piece of Feisal and his minders. A punch was thrown and then a gun appeared, held high in the air in the centre of the mêlée while hands struggled to reach for it. Inevitably, a shot rang out and the hall erupted in screams as passengers dropped to the floor or ran for the doors. Security guards in various parts of the vast terminal converged on the hall and the pandemonium increased when they started aiming their weapons in a threatening manner, shouting warnings at anyone who looked remotely suspicious. A shot went off outside, fired by an overexcited guard, and was immediately followed by a dozen more that were fired by other guards infected by the excitement.

Mallory crouched behind a planter, just in case. His gaze fell on Feisal’s suitcase where it stood in the middle of the hall alongside other luggage belonging to passengers who had been in the line.

Mallory was not sure what inspired him to get to his feet, pick up his backpacks and march through the chaos, stepping over prone passengers until he reached the suitcase, pick it up and walk away with it. Perhaps the dangers in the hall were minuscule compared with what he’d been through during the past twenty-four hours or perhaps it was nothing more than a moment of uncontrollable madness.Whatever the reason, Mallory continued on through the hall, fearing that he might be grabbed from behind at any moment. But as the cacophony continued behind him his confidence increased and, fighting the urge to look back, he walked past a food kiosk and into a public toilet.

The large noxious room was empty and Mallory continued on into one of the disgusting cubicles, closed the door and placed the suitcase on the rim of the foul seatless toilet. He realised that his heart was pounding in his chest and that adrenalin had been coursing through his veins: he fought to control his breathing so that he could listen to tell if anyone had entered behind him. There was no evidence he had been followed.

He reached for the latches on the side of the suitcase. Amazingly, they were not locked and he raised the lid to see rows of bundles of US banknotes wrapped in cling film. A random inspection of one bundle revealed it to be all one-hundred-dollar bills and Mallory fought to control himself. He was on the cusp of walking away with a fortune but also of spending a long time in an Iraq jail that he might not survive. The next few minutes would be crucial. He could not help doing a quick calculation and, experienced in such matters, came to the delightful conclusion that he was in possession of significantly more than one million dollars, probably closer to two.

It was time to speed up. Mallory opened his backpacks, emptied his clothes into the top half of the suitcase and placed the bundles of money into the packs.When he had got them all inside he could stuff only a couple of T-shirts back into the packs, which he strapped up. He opened the cubicle door a little, checked that no one had come in, grabbed his spare clothes out of the suitcase which he left on the pedestal, tossed the clothes into a broom cupboard, pulled a backpack onto each shoulder and walked out of the toilet.

A commotion was still going on in the hall, although it had calmed down a little when Feisal and his men were taken away. Mallory walked across to a stairwell that led down to the baggage-claim and arrivals hall. Once again he became uncomfortably nervous about being followed but as he left the bottom of the stairs and walked into the vast hall that was practically deserted everything seemed relatively quiet. His confidence increased as he headed through a set of double doors, strode past a couple of guards to whom he nodded hello and walked out into the bright sunlight. There was no traffic on the terminal road as Mallory crossed it. He entered the vast underground car park that was practically empty.

Mallory did a quick recce of the dark cavernous structure and found an even darker and more secluded corner beneath one of the massive ramps that led to the floor above. He put down his bags and took a series of deep breaths while he came to terms with what he had just accomplished. It was almost too much to believe and he had to open the top of one backpack and inspect one of the bundles to convince himself that it had really happened, pulling open a corner of cling film to feel the crisp new banknotes. The joke of it was that he was where he would have been had he successfully brought the money back from Fallujah. He now had to figure out how he was going to get it out of the country. It was a phase of the operation that he had resisted planning originally in case it jinxed everything but there were some potential pitfalls with this final leg that were obvious.

Flying the money out would be a problem since luggage searches could be quite thorough, not just in Baghdad but also in Amman. Mallory would never be able to explain away that amount of cash and there was every chance that it would be confiscated. Driving it over a border was probably the best option but not right then. It was far too dangerous and he would lose more than his money if he was stopped. It might end up being a case of finding a secure place to hide it and then getting it out when things calmed down. For the moment the best thing to do was head back into Baghdad, get a room at the Palestine or Sheraton Hotel and take his time coming up with a plan. A pleasant prospect that immediately came to mind was getting together with Tasneen again. Perhaps he could talk her into coming to England with him, or France or Italy or Spain, any of the places they had talked about. He could certainly afford the bribes for visas and so forth. A broad smile spread across his face as he thought how fortunes could change so quickly.

Mallory thought about calling Kareem but risking the BIAP with just one driver for security seemed like a pointless gamble. He told himself to start thinking minimum risk again, a basic rule of his profession that he seemed to have discarded somewhere on the road to Fallujah. As he pondered the problem several heavy engines gunned to life a few rows away and he walked out from under the ramp to investigate. The throaty noises were coming from several matt-black-painted muscular-looking vehicles belonging to the same
Mad Max
PSD team that had shot up Stanza. They were getting ready to move out and Mallory grabbed up his bags and headed towards them. He was certain they would give him a ride into Baghdad for a price. A few thousand dollars should buy him a seat.

The adventure was not yet over but Mallory had a good feeling about it. Perhaps Abdul would take part in it now since circumstances had changed. Mallory suddenly wondered what it would be like having him for a brother-in-law. Now
there
was something to think about.