Porter straightened up in his chair. He knew he was being examined as well as informed: they were looking to see how fast his mind still worked, and how well he could absorb information. He was still feeling hungry, so he grabbed another tuna sandwich. ‘Then why do they care about our boys in Iraq?’
‘Because the Iranians do,’ said Gilton. ‘The Iranians are desperate to get the British out of Basra as quickly as possible, because that way they can dominate the area. Southern Iraq is Shiite as well, and it’s going to be virtually an Iranian puppet state once we get out of the way.’
‘So they’re doing the dirty work …’
‘Precisely,’ said the professor. ‘The Iranians don’t want to start kidnapping British hostages and threatening to behead them. They don’t have much of an image in the world, but even for them that is a step too far. They get Hezbollah to do it for them, and since they are the main supplier of money and arms to that organisation, they don’t have much choice but to go along. Hezbollah take the girl, demand that British troops get out of Basra, and the Iranians can move into southern Iraq, which is where most of the oil is incidentally, unopposed. Meanwhile their hands are clean.’
‘So it’s not just some random kidnapping?’
‘Not a bit of it,’ said Gilton. ‘They have a plan, and I have to admit a pretty clever one. It all fits together very well. They know just how vulnerable British public opinion is over Iraq, and they picked Katie Dartmouth because she is young, attractive and popular, and because they knew the story would get round-the-clock coverage. They knew there was a by-election coming up next month as well, and if the government loses that, then the PM is probably toast. Like I said, it’s a plan, and a damned clever one.’
Sir Angus leant back in his chair. ‘So maybe the only flaw in the plan is you, Porter,’ he said. ‘They didn’t reckon on you.’
‘What are their weaknesses?’ asked Porter.
‘They don’t really have any, I’m afraid,’ said Gilton. ‘Hezbollah is a tight-knit organisation. There are none of the splits between the military and political wings you used to get with the IRA, for example. And there’s none of the factionalism you get within al-Qaeda. They have their orders, and they’ll execute them ruthlessly.’
‘But it’s not their war,’ said Porter.
‘Right, that’s our one advantage,’ said Gilton. ‘They’ve taken Katie Dartmouth to help the Iranians. They don’t themselves care very much whether the British are in Iraq or not. Israel is the enemy for them. If you get into conversation with them, you need to hammer home that point. This isn’t really their fight. They’re just working for the Iranians. If you can persuade them to believe that, then maybe you can start to weaken their resolve.’
‘It’s not going to work, is it?’ said Porter. ‘I mean, they don’t care what I think of them.’
The professor remained silent. He probably knows that as well I do, thought Porter, you can’t talk these bastards out of anything. There was more coffee, and another plate of sandwiches before Gilton shuffled out of the room and Sir Angus brought in David Provost. A thin, intense man, with reading glasses, and blond hair that was combed across his forehead, he glanced briefly at Porter before taking his seat and reaching for a glass of water. He was described as the Firm’s top hostage expert: he’d visited sieges all over the world, and studied the subject for years. There was nothing he didn’t know about kidnappers, and how to deal with them.
‘There’s just one major principle in every hostage negotiation,’ he said, looking at Porter. ‘Keep the conversation going. It doesn’t really matter what you’re talking about, or whether the discussion seems to be going anywhere. Every minute you spend talking achieves two things, and they are both important for you. One, it delays the moment of execution. When they’re talking, they aren’t killing. Next, it draws you closer to the kidnappers. The more of a relationship you build up, the harder it becomes for them to kill the victim.’
‘So what do I talk to them about?’ asked Porter.
‘First, find out what they want,’ said Provost. ‘One thing you learn about most kidnappers is, they say they want one thing, but they really want something else completely. You need to burrow away at that. Dig and dig, and find out if there is something else that would satisfy them.’
‘Like what?’ said Porter. ‘They’ve said they want British troops out of Iraq and Afghanistan. How the hell am I meant to negotiate that?’
Provost ran a hand through his stringy hair, and glanced nervously across at Sir Angus. Porter sensed he wasn’t being told everything. The Firm had its own ideas and plans, and they weren’t about to let him into their secrets. For all I know, he thought, they might even have started negotiating with Hassad without thinking to tell me.
‘Again, that’s what they say they want,’ said Provost ‘Don’t believe it. They can’t really expect a whole British Army to be withdrawn in response to a single kidnapping. So, there’s your answer. That’s not what they want at all.’
‘Then what is it?’
‘Publicity,’ said Provost firmly. ‘Look at how they are operating. Who do they kidnap? A TV journalist. If you want to influence politics, you kidnap a politician. If you want money, you kidnap a businessman. But if it’s publicity you want, then you kidnap a journalist, particularly a pretty blonde one.’
‘And they’ve certainly got it.’
‘Right,’ said Provost. ‘But the point is, there is no more perishable commodity. Katie Dartmouth might as well have a sell-by date stamped on her forehead. As soon as they kill her, the story is dead too. So what you need to do is string it out for them. Keep reminding them that when they kill her, they’ve basically lost. They haven’t got the troops out, and in a few days’ time they are not going to be in the news any more either.’
‘Why the hell should they listen to me?’ said Porter.
‘That’s the first thing to do, engage them in conversation. Make it clear that you sympathise with them, and then they’ll start listening. The next thing to do is to get them talking to Katie. From the picture they’ve put out on the Web, she is bound and gagged. That’s no good. Tell them she needs water and food, and she needs to breathe more easily. Do anything to get that gag off her. As soon as you’ve done that, get her talking. About anything, it doesn’t matter what. If needs be, the two of you should sit there chatting. At the moment, she’s just a symbol, and they are easy to kill. Turn her into a human being, however, and it gets a lot harder.’
‘I need to be able to offer them something,’ said Porter.
‘We’ll get to that later,’ said Sir Angus.
Porter nodded. We’re not getting anywhere, he told himself. All this talking isn’t going to make any difference to anyone.
‘When you get out there, Sir Angus will have given you some concessions you can make,’ continued Provost. ‘Every hostage negotiator always has those. You go in knowing what concessions you’ll make, but never make them right away. You need to feed them out slowly. That way the other side feel like they are extracting something from you.’
‘Any questions?’ said Sir Angus.
Porter rested his arms on the desk. ‘So, in your experience, has anyone ever negotiated a hostage out of Hezbollah?’
Provost coughed, and glanced at Sir Angus. ‘No,’ he said crisply.
‘Then I better have a plan B,’ growled Porter.
The coffee tasted good. Porter sipped on it slowly as he waited for the next talking head to be wheeled into the room. Layla had disappeared to get a fresh pot by the time Ken Stuart was led into the room. He was wearing cream cargo trousers, a blue jacket and a pink open-necked shirt. His dark hair was worn long, but his face was lined and craggy, making him look a lot older than his forty years.