‘Yes. He could be in contact with the people who are planting the devices, so he knows about the bombs because they’re telling him. But why would they do that? What possible motive could there be for a terrorist organization to leak details of its bombing campaign to someone who can then trot along and tell the authorities? And the other problem is that the Damascus shahid and the Manama car bombing were carried out by totally different groups. That makes the idea of Holden being used as a deliberate conduit even more unlikely, unless the activities of those different groups were being coordinated by somebody else. But even then, I still don’t understand why.’
When Massood and Bashar returned to the hotel, they were laden with packages. They went straight to Saadi’s room and placed all their purchases on the spare bed. Although both men seemed certain they’d found everything they needed, Saadi was too conscious of the importance of their mission to leave anything to chance, so he checked and inspected every single item before he declared himself satisfied.
‘We’ll leave everything in here until this evening,’ he decided. ‘Then we’ll prepare the packages and transfer them to the car just before we leave for Nad Al-Sheba. You’d better try to get some sleep this afternoon, because we’ve got a very long night’s work ahead of us.’
Sutter applied the brakes and the Gulfstream came to rest on the hardstanding. Even as the whine of the jets died away, he saw two cars approaching, both white with dark green doors signwritten in Arabic, and preceded by a small Air Traffic Control van with a roof bar, the yellow lights flashing. Leaving Haig to finish the shutdown, Sutter went back into the passenger cabin.
‘Two cars are heading this way,’ he announced. ‘These guys are probably your liaison officers, so good luck.’
‘Right,’ O’Hagan said, standing up and walking across to the cabin door. As he opened it, a blast of baking air rushed into the aircraft. ‘Shit, that’s hot,’ he muttered. He peered out, saw the approaching cars brake to a halt at the edge of the hardstanding, and turned to face the other three men. ‘All ready?’
None of them replied, but O’Hagan hadn’t expected them to. They had no idea what the CIA had arranged with the Dubai security forces, so they were going to have to play everything by ear.
‘Roy,’ O’Hagan instructed. ‘You and Jeff book into a hotel, once you’ve cleared customs and immigration. Then tell us where you’re staying, and both keep your mobiles switched on. You’ll get the aircraft turned round and refuelled, of course.’
Sutter nodded. ‘We’ll do that right away. This plane will be ready to leave as soon as we are.’
O’Hagan turned back towards the cabin door. ‘One guy approaching. Western suit. Two others standing by the cars, dark green uniforms, green berets, so I guess they’re police drivers. OK, Ed, over to you. You’re the ranking agent.’
When they’d stripped the dead CIA officers, each of the four men had selected the identification card bearing the photograph that was closest to their own likeness. Grant Hutchings had been the ranking agent, and Edward Dawson just happened to look most like him.
The Arab reached the open door of the Gulfstream and peered inside. ‘Agent Hutchings?’ he asked, in virtually accentless English.
‘That’s me.’ Dawson stepped forward, extending his hand to flash Hutchings’s CIA identification.
‘I’m delighted to meet you,’ the Arab said, barely glancing at it. ‘My name’s Saeed Hussein and I’m a senior police inspector.’
Dawson introduced his fellow ‘CIA agents’.
‘One question, Inspector,’ Dawson said. ‘We’re all carrying personal weapons, as we’re required to do back in the States. Do you have any problem with us being armed here in Dubai?’
Hussein shook his head firmly. ‘We expected that any officers sent here would be carrying weapons, so I’ve already arranged the correct documentation.’
Ten minutes later the convoy moved off.
‘You’ve been booked into the Al-Khaleej Hotel in Deira,’ Hussein explained, then turned to offer Dawson a card. ‘Those are my office, home and mobile numbers, so if you have any problems, just call me. I’m based in the police station at the Old Fort on Naif Road. I’ll send a car for you at three, and then we can discuss our strategy.’
‘Thank you, Inspector. We’ll need to check in at the American Consulate sometime soon. Is that anywhere nearby?’
Hussein smiled. ‘Dubai isn’t really very big, and nowhere’s too far away. Your consulate is located in the World Trade Centre on Shaikh Zayed Road, only about four kilometres south of your hotel. But must you go there in person? We have secure communications at the Old Fort you can use.’
Dawson appeared to consider this question, but in reality he had no intention of going anywhere near the American Consulate. Hussein had hardly looked at his identification, nor those carried by the other three. Clearly he’d been told to expect a CIA team to arrive at Dubai in a Gulfstream. Expectation has a way of dulling the critical faculties, and because the four men were exactly what he’d been expecting, he hadn’t done a proper check.
Dawson knew the consulate guards would be more thorough. His vague resemblance to the deceased Grant Hutchings wouldn’t be enough to satisfy them. But they had to check in because if they didn’t it would ring alarm bells at Langley. So even if Hussein hadn’t offered the use of the police station’s communication facilities, Dawson would certainly have suggested it.
‘Thank you, Inspector,’ Dawson said. ‘That’ll save a trip to the consulate, and time is, I think, now of the essence.’
‘Have you seen Holden?’ Richter asked, closing the file, and Watkinson nodded. ‘What were your conclusions?’
‘He appears genuine enough. He seems disturbed by what he’s describing, and despite multi-questioning he always sticks to the same story.’ Asking the same question several times using different forms of words is an old interrogator’s trick, often known as multi-questioning. ‘Ideally, I would have liked to strap him to a polygraph, but we’ve no power to make him submit to that kind of testing. I did ask him if he’d do it voluntarily, but he got quite upset.’
‘A guilty reaction?’ Richter suggested.
‘Perhaps. Or perhaps not. You could look at it either way.’
‘OK. Is there anything else you need to tell me about him?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Do you need to look at the file again?’
Richter shook his head and slid it across the table. ‘No. Interesting but not helpful — that more or less sums it up.’
Just as Richter stood, his Enigma mobile rang. ‘Yes, Carole.’ He recognized her voice immediately.
‘This line’s secure,’ she confirmed. ‘There’s been a development at the Saudi end. The police have had a presence at the Al-Shahrood stables ever since Qabandi blew the whistle, and the missing staff finally turned up this morning.’
‘Dead, I assume?’ Richter asked.
‘Yes, all dead. A pack of wild dogs had congregated at the back of the stables, and when the inspector noticed they were scratching in the sand he organized a digging party. They’d got down four feet when they found the first corpse. There are about a dozen bodies in total. They’re running a full forensic work-up now, but it looks like they were killed execution-style: one bullet each in the back of the head.’
‘Well, that certainly makes the case of the missing horse look a hell of a lot different. Any leads yet?’