‘It’s hit the front pages,’ she said grimly. ‘I didn’t bring the Washington Post or the foreign nationals — I didn’t want to depress you. But it’s headline news everywhere. Al Jazeera has been running special broadcasts all over the Middle East, and a number of Islamic countries have come out condemning the news and demanding a response by the UN, saying it points towards an anti-Islamic bias by UN troops and supporting member states.’
Deane pulled the Times towards him and stared at the headline.
REFUGEE GIRL RAPED AND MURDERED BY PEACEKEEPER — UN SPECIAL ENVOY PROMISES JUSTICE
UN Special Envoy Anton Kleeman yesterday gave substance to the rumors coming out of the country of Kosovo that a teenage girl was brutally raped and murdered by a UN ‘Trooper’ attached to the multinational KFOR peacekeeping force during 1999. So far the victim, possibly a homeless refugee, has not been identified, nor has the soldier. Special Envoy Kleeman, hotly tipped for the highest reaches of the peacekeeping and humanitarian organization, yesterday vowed before a press briefing that justice for the brutalized young girl would be swift. Speaking to a select press gathering before leaving on a brief visit to Beijing, Paris, and London for talks with other UN members, he would not be drawn on what this justice might entail, nor how it would be enforced.
Deane shook his head in disgust. ‘Brutally raped and murdered? Is there any other way? Jesus.’
‘You can’t blame the press,’ Walters said with cool indifference. ‘They react to what they’re told.’
‘Right. And he sure told them, didn’t he? Who the hell allowed Kleeman to do this?’
Walters bristled defensively. ‘I’m his aide, not his nanny. If he wants to set out on a crusade without telling me, there’s not much I can do to stop him. You want me to hit him over the head and haul him out of the room any time, give me the paperwork.’
Deane grinned nastily. ‘Don’t tempt me.’ He tapped the newspaper article. ‘This trip to Beijing and Europe. . how come you’re not along to hold his hand?’
‘He has other people for that: trained diplomat types who know how to behave in front of foreign devils. Don’t show the soles of the feet or talk about Chinese human rights abuses, don’t insult the euro, ignore the French or mention the war; work the cutlery from the outside in and if someone spits on their plate don’t stab ’em in the eye with your fish fork.’ She brushed a hair from across her face. ‘Frankly, I’m glad to be out of his way for a while.’
Harry caught her eye. ‘You don’t like him much?’
Her look was cool, as if unsure what lay behind the question. She shivered. ‘To be honest, he gives me the creeps. He’s like one of those Hollywood actor-types, all macho bullshit and Armani, but too good to be true.’
‘He’s gay?’ Deane looked stunned.
‘No, not that.’ She sighed. ‘It’s a woman thing: good-looking, rich, sophisticated guys affect us that way if they don’t have their hand up our skirts every five minutes.’
Deane said with a wry grin, ‘Now who’s being outrageous?’
‘Are you going to notify everyone in those files?’ Walters countered.
‘All the CP team, yes. That’s what Harry’s here for. We’ve tracked down everyone to a last known address, but we haven’t spoken to them directly yet. We figured it would be better done face to face.’ He tapped the table top. ‘We don’t want everyone to hear that there’s a killer on the loose looking to waste a whole bunch of UN military personnel.’
Walters looked at Harry as if for the first time, and he knew what she was thinking. ‘You were the team leader, I remember.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘You didn’t exactly hit it off with Kleeman, did you?’
Harry said nothing for a moment. He didn’t see the point in going over old news. But when Deane and McKenna looked at him, he realized that anything appearing to have been hidden now might look questionable later on.
‘He wanted us to mount a hot pursuit following an ambush by Serb snipers,’ he explained. ‘We were hit as we drove down a narrow defile in heavy rain at night. Kleeman suggested we hit them back, but that wasn’t our mission; we were there to protect him, not engage in a firefight. Going after Serb forces in those conditions was a no-hoper. I told him that. Then, when we reached the compound where we were to rest up for the night before being airlifted out, the convoy commander was ordered to Pristina to help protect refugees under attack. Kleeman wanted to go with them.’ He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t my job to provide him or anyone else with a photo opportunity, so we stayed put. He wasn’t impressed.’
Deane pulled a face. ‘That might explain why he was so quick to jump on the military. I hope the press doesn’t get hold of these names yet.’ He flicked idly through the papers. ‘When they do, every man on it will be labelled a potential rapist and murderer.’
Walters said, ‘Can you keep them secure?’
‘I wish I could. But they’re already out there. Whoever was using Demescu might not allow it to remain secret.’
‘That might work to our advantage,’ Harry suggested.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Having the media looking for the men as well might crowd him and scare him off. And if the guilty trooper is out there, he’s bound to be on his guard, too.’
There was a knock at the door.
Deane stood and spoke to a man outside. When he came back, he looked shocked.
‘There’s been another killing.’ He reached out and pulled one of the record sheets towards him, spun it round so they could all see it. ‘This time right here in New York.’
SEVENTEEN
Kassim awoke in pain and confusion. Something was crawling over his foot. He jerked his legs up and looked around. He was in the stairwell of an abandoned building, moisture coating the walls and puddled across the floor, the air foetid.
He’d been dreaming, back in the hills, with flashes of blue sky over the mountain peaks and the broad, green-brown sweep of the slopes where villages clung to life like dried plants on rocks. Everything was peacefuclass="underline" a dog barking, a child laughing, a buzzard riding the thermals. Then a helicopter gunship had streaked over the hill and a munitions truck had exploded. The driver had loomed suddenly in front of him, eyes pleading for help. But it wasn’t the driver any more; it was his mother, bony fingers reaching for him as the skin peeled back under the flames.
He shook his head, the dream receding, and remembered the previous evening.
He’d been rooted to the spot when the man he was stalking suddenly appeared before him. Carvalho was holding a vegetable knife, the blade covered with red tomato pulp. Close up, the man looked huge.
Kassim launched himself forward. But the Marine’s reaction was swift. Pivoting slightly, he launched a high back-kick which connected painfully with Kassim’s shoulder. Pain mushroomed down his arm as he went backwards, smashing into a coffee table. Barely managing to retain a grip on the screwdriver, he struggled to his feet. As he did so, Carvalho roared and launched himself at him, casting aside the puny vegetable knife and reaching for Kassim’s wrist.
Kassim was surprised the Marine didn’t just hit him with a piece of furniture — it would have ended things right there. Fortunately for him, Carvalho’s hands were filmed with cooking oil, and his grip on Kassim’s arm was momentary. It was the Marine’s big mistake.
Kassim lashed out with the screwdriver, laying open the skin of Carvalho’s forearm like butter. The Marine ignored it, then wiped his hands on his trousers before coming in low and fast, spinning sideways and connecting with a vicious side-kick.
Kassim gasped as the American’s boot sank into his ribs. There was a popping sound as a rib gave way, and the pain tore through him in waves. He sank to one knee, desperately waiting for the follow-up and hoping his adversary would decide to use his hands instead of those lethal feet.