Time of the Assassins (7 page)

'I feel like it,' Laidlaw retorted, climbing onto one of the bar stools. 'A beer, Dave.'
'Comin' up,' Jenkins replied, uncapping a Budweiser and placing it on the counter in front of Laidlaw. 'Where were you last night? I was thinking about sending out the cavalry to look for you if you hadn't shown up tonight.'
'It's nice to be missed,' Laidlaw muttered then took a drink of beer.
'So where were you last night?'
Laidlaw shrugged. 'I didn't fancy coming in. Is that such a crime?'
'If it affects my profits, yes,' Jenkins said with a grin then pushed a coaster across to Laidlaw. 'What do you think of the design? A batch of them came in this morning.'
'What?' Laidlaw replied in amazement.
'Just look at the design.' Jenkins picked up another four and handed them out to the other customers sitting at the counter.
Laidlaw glanced at it, turned it over, and was about to discard it when he saw the handwritten note scrawled across it. He looked up but Jenkins was busy discussing the logo with one of the other customers. He read the note: Go upstairs to Room 4. Knock twice. Pause. Knock twice more.
'Interesting, isn't it?' Jenkins said, deftly taking the coaster from Laidlaw's hand and discarding it unobtrusively in the bin under the counter. 'But then I'm biased anyway.'
Laidlaw took another mouthful of beer then got to his feet and walked to the stairs at the end of the room. He paused, his hand on the banister. What the hell was going on? He sighed deeply then mounted the stairs and looked around him slowly. The Windorah had been a small family hotel before Jenkins bought it seven years earlier. The ten rooms were all situated on the first floor. Jenkins had decided to concentrate on the bar and closed the rooms. He converted the first two into toilets and the others were only used for customers, invariably foreign journalists who were too drunk to drive home. He never charged for the rooms and the journalists repayed him by keeping their custom at the bar.
Laidlaw stopped outside Room 4, glanced round to see that nobody was about, then knocked twice. He paused momentarily then knocked twice more. A bolt was drawn back from inside then the door opened fractionally before a hand reached out and hauled him into the room. The door closed behind him immediately.
'Mike?' Laidlaw said in amazement as Graham bolted the door.
'You took your time! Where the hell were you last night?'
'Being interrogated on a murder charge,' Laidlaw snapped back. 'Thirty-six hours without any sleep. And all thanks to you. You've got some explaining to do.'
Graham walked to the unmade bed and sat down. '1.didn't kill Barak.'
'So where were you when I got to the house? And who drove off in Barak's Peugeot?'
Graham rubbed his unshaven face and looked up at Laidlaw. 'All I know is that when I entered the house someone coshed me. When I woke up I was in some back alley. I still don't know where it was. And my Beretta was gone.'
'The police have got it,' Laidlaw said coldly. 'It was the gun that killed Barak.'
'I know,' Graham retorted. 'Why the hell do you think I've been holed up here since yesterday? When I saw my picture on the front page of the local newspaper I knew it meant trouble.'
'So why did you come here?'
'I went to your house first but the cops were
watching it. I also saw them putting a tap on your phone. That's why I couldn't call you. Then I thought of Dave. He's the only other guy I could trust here.'
Laidlaw moved to the window and tweaked the edge of the curtains. The police car that had followed him to the Windorah was still parked across the road.
'Were you followed here?' Graham asked.
'Yeah,' Laidlaw replied, letting the curtain fall back into place. 'But that was to be expected. Jeez, I still don't know what to make of your story. It doesn't make sense. If Bernard did kill Barak, why not kill you as well? What would he have to gain by setting you up?'
'That question's been going round in my head ever since I woke up in that alley.'
'And?'
'And nothing,' Graham replied. 'Like you said, it makes no sense. I'm still a threat to him alive.'
'What if Bernard wasn't behind it?'
'It has to be Bernard. Hell, I wish I knew why though.'
Laidlaw looked down at Graham. 'The cops aren't the only ones on your tail. Your partner's in town.'
Graham's eyes narrowed suspiciously. 'My partner?'
'Calls herself Sabrina Cassidy. Looks like a model out of one of those Coke ads, only better.'
Graham smiled faintly. 'That's her. When did she get in?'
'Dunno. We didn't exactly hit it off.'
'I know what you mean. I didn't get on with her either when we started working together. We'd fight
like cat and dog. Hell, we still have our spats. But she's still a damn good professional all the same.'
'She thinks a lot of you, you know. I made the mistake of criticizing you and she came down on me like a ton of bricks.'
'She's very maternal. It can be a pain in the ass at times.'
'Is that what you call it?' Laidlaw replied, an eyebrow raised quizzically.
There were two knocks on the door before Graham could muster a reply. A pause then another two knocks.
'That's Dave,' Graham said. 'He said he'd be up. I'll get him to find out where Sabrina's staying.'
Graham unlocked the door. Jenkins entered, followed by two Arabs in jeans and open-necked shirts. Both were armed with Russian Makarova pistols.
'I'm sorry, Mike,' Jenkins said, giving Graham a despairing look. 'They caught me unawares. They were in the opposite room.'
'Shut up!' one of the Arabs snapped in a thick English accent. 'You are Mike Graham?'
Graham nodded slowly. 'Who are you? Bernard's goons?'
'Captain Farouk want to see you,' the Arab replied.
'That's the bastard who interrogated me,' Laidlaw hissed.
'If you not come, the girl will die.' The Arab took a passport from his pocket and tossed it on the bed. 'Captain Farouk say you look. He serious.'
Graham picked up the passport and looked at
Laidlaw. 'It's Sabrina's.' He turned on the English-speaking Arab. 'If you or this Farouk have touched her I'll tear you apart with my bare hands.'
The Arab's face remained motionless. 'You come. All of you.'
'Farouk wants me, let the others go,' Graham said.
'If you not come, the girl will die.'
'It's like talking to a robot,' Graham hissed then glanced at Jenkins and Laidlaw. 'We're going to have to do as he says. I'm sorry.'
'What about the bar?' Jenkins asked.
'The bar closed.'
'Closed?' Jenkins replied indignantly.
'It has been closed. We go out the back door. And if you are thinking about trying to fight us -'
'Yeah, we know,' Graham cut in angrily.
'The girl will die,' the Arab concluded.
Jenkins led the way down the stairs into the now empty bar room. He opened the hatchway at the end of the counter then turned to the English-speaking Arab. 'Can I at least lock up?'
The Arab nodded then ordered his accomplice to go with Jenkins. When they returned Jenkins again led the way out into the side alley behind the bar. A black van was parked by the door. Jenkins locked the door, pocketed the keys, then his hands were tied behind his back before he was bundled into the back of the van after Graham and Laidlaw. The doors were closed, enveloping them in darkness, and locked from the outside. The two Arabs then climbed into the front and moments later the van spluttered into life and turned out of the alley.
'Mike, can you reach into my jacket pocket?' Jenkins said, nudging Graham with his elbow.
'What the hell for?'
'My keys,' Jenkins replied. 'There's a Swiss Army knife on the keyring. That's why I insisted on locking the bar. We can cut ourselves free.'
'Good thinking, Dave, but we can't risk it.'
'What do you mean?' Jenkins replied. 'If we can cut ourselves free we can jump those two when they open the doors again. Three against two. We'd have a good chance of overpowering them.'
'If we could be sure it would only be the two of them. What if there are others waiting for us when we do reach our destination?'
'It's worth a try, surely?' Jenkins retorted.
'It's not just that. We don't know where Sabrina is. Even if we did manage to overpower them we could be putting her life in danger. I won't take that risk.'
'Great, so we're just going,to sit here like trussed up chickens -'
'If you quit whining, Dave, I could tell you what I've got in mind.'
'That's gratitude for you. Who took you in -'
'Dave, shut up,' Laidlaw snapped then turned to Graham beside him. 'Well, what's the plan?'
'We loosen our ropes. Then, once we know Sabrina's safe we can make our move. It's a long shot, I know, but there isn't much else we can do under the circumstances.'
'I had the same idea,' Laidlaw said. 'Let's just hope Cheech and Chong up front aren't telepathic.'
'We've got to chance it,' Graham replied grimly.
They set about loosening the ropes just enough for them to be able to reach the knot once Graham gave the signal. Their only concern was that, in the darkness, one, or more, of the ropes had been loosened too much and it would be noticed when they emerged from the back of the van. All they could do was wait.
Twenty minutes later the van came to a halt, but the engine was kept running. They heard one of the Arabs get out and moments later a metal gate was opened and the van drove forward a few feet before stopping again, presumably to pick up the Arab. They drove another couple of hundred yards before the van came to a halt and the engine was switched off. This time both Arabs got out and the back doors were unlocked.
The English-speaking Arab ordered them to get out. Jenkins scrambled out first, followed by Graham and Laidlaw. They looked around. They were in an illuminated yard lined with a row of six red and black pantechnicons. Graham couldn't understand the writing across the side of the nearest one. It was in Arabic. The Arabs spoke briefly together then the English-speaking one stepped back, his Makarova trained on the three men. His colleague walked behind Jenkins and tugged at the rope binding his wrists. He cursed angrily and immediately tightened it. Graham and Laidlaw remained motionless, not daring to look at each other. Laidlaw was spun round and the Arab checked his rope then he was pushed aside and Graham subjected to the same treatment. The Arab shook.his head at his colleague.
'Inside,' the English-speaking Arab ordered, gesturing with the pistol to the door behind him.
Graham and Laidlaw exchanged relieved glances then followed Jenkins into the white-walled corridor. They were led to a metal door. The English-speaking Arab pulled it open and indicated for them to enter. They found themselves in a cavernous room lined with scarred wooden workbenches and rows of metal hooks hanging from the ceiling. They were all on runners and could be manoeuvred the length of the room. It was spotlessly clean. The second Arab walked to a door and disappeared inside. Moments later the door opened and he emerged with Sabrina. Her hands were bound behind her back but she was otherwise unhurt. He pushed her onto a chair by the door. Graham took a step towards her but the English-speaking Arab levelled the pistol menacingly at him and ordered him to remain where he was.
'You OK?' Graham called out.
'I'm fine. I didn't realize Farouk...' she trailed off when she saw Graham and Laidlaw both look past her, their eyes riveted on the man who had appeared in the doorway.
'Good to see you again, Mr Graham. It's been a long time.'
Sabrina looked from Farouk to Graham, a puzzled frown on her face. 'You know Farouk?'
'Farouk?' Graham snorted contemptuously. 'That's Salim Al-Makesh.'
'What?' Sabrina replied in amazement. 'But he was killed by Israeli commandos in Damascus.'
'That's obviously what they wanted us to believe,' Graham said without taking his eyes of Al-Makesh.
'Which only leaves one logical explanation. You're working for the Israelis now, aren't you?'
Al-Makesh stepped away from the door, his hands dug into his trouser pockets. He nodded. 'It was either that or be killed. It was a question of survival.'
'Now it makes sense,' Laidlaw said, nodding to himself. 'I couldn't understand why you never showed yourself when you were interrogating me. You knew I'd recognize you straight away.'
'I wasn't sure whether you would or not,' Al-Makesh replied. 'I have changed my appearance considerably since I was with the Black June but it seems I made the right decision after all.'
'Who killed Barak?' Graham demanded. 'You or Bernard?'
'Bernard. I had nothing to do with it,' Al-Makesh said. 'When Barak told him you were in Beirut - '
'Barak worked for him?' Graham interceded.
'Barak worked for anyone who paid him,' Al-Makesh replied with a dismissive shrug. 'But he had started to drink heavily in recent months and Bernard felt he had become a liability. So when he heard you were in town he hit on a plan to get rid of both of you. He'd kill Barak and set you up as the fall guy -1 believe that's the term you Americans use. He would knock you out when you went to the house, kill Barak, then dump you in an alley near the Cola Roundabout in western Beirut. All I had to do was go there and arrest you. But when I got there, you'd gone.'
'Why didn't Bernard just kill me when he had the chance?' Graham asked.
'And have UNACO crawling all over Beirut?' Al-
Makesh smiled when Graham looked at him in surprise. 'I have my sources, just like you. But if you were arrested for murder they would have to be very careful not to blow their cover. Any sort of publicity could have splashed UNACO across the front page of every newspaper in the world.'
'I would have recognized you the moment I saw you,' Graham said.
'Who would have believed you? The Israeli Mossad would have confirmed that I'd been killed in Damascus. I have a watertight cover for all those years I was with the Black June. The authorities would think you'd finally cracked under the pressure of what had happened to your family. You'd probably have ended up in an asylum.'
'I could have backed him up,' Laidlaw said.
'My superiors would have dismissed Graham's allegations about my past as the ramblings of a broken man. But if you'd also been able to identify me then they would certainly have initiated an investigation. For that reason you would have had to be silenced once Graham was in custody. An accident. But when Bernard's plan backfired I needed you alive in case you could lead me to Graham. Which, as it turned out, you did.'
'Were the CIA in on this?' Sabrina asked.
'No,' Al-Makesh replied bluntly. 'And neither were the Mossad.'
'The CIA?' Graham asked, staring at Sabrina. 'What the hell have they got to do with this?'