Don’t lose it again, Porter commanded himself. It doesn’t matter how much they provoke you. It only makes things worse.
Hassad raised a hand. Nasri had already drawn the hose behind his back, but he paused. ‘You’ll read now?’ said Hassad.
‘I’ll …’
‘You’ll read, or you’ll keep tasting the whip,’ snarled Hassad.
There were tears streaming down Katie’s cheeks, but they were tears of pain, not regret. Specks of blood had splattered across her chest, and her face was so pale and beaten, it was as if she had already taken another step into the grave. They planned this, Porter realised. He felt another stab of fury drilling into his heart. They knew she’d refuse, and they’d decided to whip her, just so she would look even more pitiful for the camera. Every move, every step, was planned with a brutal, unfeeling callousness that disgusted him.
What was it that bastard Hassad said? We celebrate death. He wriggled his leg to make sure the knife he’d hidden inside his trouser pocket was still there. I’ll give that fuck-head something to celebrate, all right. Just as soon as I find the moment to strike.
‘My name is Katie Dartmouth,’ she started.
Her voice was fractured and rough, but you could see the sincerity in her eyes, and you could hear the pleading in her voice. Porter could see Hassad smiling to himself. He knew what he was doing when he kidnapped a TV reporter. He needed someone who could play for the cameras, and Katie was just perfect. Even in death, she could deliver.
‘I am scared,’ she continued. ‘Very scared. I don’t want to die. These are not bad men, and their cause is a just one. They just want British soldiers off their land. So I appeal to the British people, go out of your homes, demand that your government brings your soldiers home. Please. Because if you don’t, I will die, and my blood will be on all of your hands.’
Asad snapped the camera shut, and switched off the light. The small room was suddenly dark and silent: only the sound of Katie sobbing gently broke the stillness.
‘Thank you,’ said Hassad. ‘Your words have served a noble purpose.’
Katie snivelled. The tears had blocked up her nose and her throat. The lash of the whip would still be stinging, Porter reckoned: the pain from where the hose had cut into his own skin was still burning through him, and he knew it would be hours before it started to subside.
‘I don’t care about that,’ Katie stuttered. ‘I just want to die.’
‘Soon enough,’ said Hassad. ‘There are less than twenty hours for you to wait now.’
‘I want to die now,’ Katie screamed. There was a sudden energy and violence in her voice, as if she had suddenly found some strength from somewhere.
‘I’ve told you to wait.’
‘Now,’ said Katie, gasping for breath. ‘I’ve had enough. If you’re going to do it, just fucking get it over with.’
‘The deadline has been set,’ snapped Hassad.
‘Film it now, do whatever you want, I just can’t take this any more.’
There were tears streaming down her face and Porter could see in her eyes that the will to live had abandoned her. It happened sometimes to men on the battlefield: once their spirits were broken, they’d just march straight into the line of fire. When they knew they were going to die anyway, they just wanted to get it over with. It was the waiting they couldn’t stand.
His eyes met hers, and suddenly he saw a spark of anger flicker within her. She wants to know why I haven’t saved her yet. And it’s a bloody good question.
‘Tonight at eight, precisely,’ said Hassad. ‘We’re expecting a huge global audience. We don’t want to disappoint them.’
Katie fell silent. The moment of hysteria had passed. Now she just looked sad and bitter, as if she was reflecting on the life that was about to be snatched away from her. ‘Leave me alone with the Englishman,’ she said quietly.
‘What?’ asked Hassad.
‘I want to be alone with one of my own people.’
Porter listened closely. Has she got a plan? he wondered.
Katie was looking up now. ‘You said you weren’t cruel men,’ she said. ‘Well then, you’ll grant a woman one simple request before you kill her.’
Hassad looked at her, then at Porter. ‘No tricks,’ he said.
Porter nodded.
‘A man will be posted at the door,’ said Hassad. ‘Five minutes, that’s all. Then we’re taking you out of here.’
He walked from the room, the others following behind him. The door slammed shut. For a couple of seconds, Porter remained silent. He reckoned he knew something of what she was going through. Only a day earlier, the bastards who captured him told him he was about to be beheaded, and he’d believed them. He’d sensed the fear, the dread, the expectation of the pain, and the challenge of dying alone and miserable in a strange and hostile place.
‘Do you think they’ll really do it?’ asked Katie.
Porter nodded. There was no point in trying to kid her. That wasn’t going to do any good now.
‘They’re bastards,’ he muttered. ‘They’ll do anything.’
Katie started to speak, but she choked on the first word. Maybe some small part of her had hoped through the past week that it was just a bluff, that when the moment came, they’d call it off. Lock her up instead. He’d heard that men on death row often thought that. It was the only way they could handle the pressure. If so, he’d punctured that now. The flat certainty with which he delivered the answer had extinguished what hope remained as surely as a closed fist will extinguish the flame on a candle.
‘It won’t be so bad,’ he said. ‘It’ll be quick. And …’
He paused, trying to complete the sentence, but it was hopeless. It wasn’t going to be quick, and she knew it. That was why she was so afraid.
‘Kill me now,’ she said.
Porter could hear the desperation in her voice.
‘At least it will be over,’ she continued.
‘There’s still hope,’ he persisted. ‘That’s one thing you learn in the army. While you’re still alive, there’s still a chance. Something may turn up.’
‘Have you negotiated?’ asked Katie, her voice pale and frightened.
Porter shrugged. ‘They’re not interested.’
‘Did they … did they give you anything to offer?’
‘Just the bollocks you’d expect,’ said Porter. He sighed. ‘Some half-arsed peace talks. Some money. That’s not what they want though, is it? They want our boys out of Iraq. And we’re not going to give them that.’
A tear was falling down the side of Katie’s cheek. ‘Did … did Perry get involved?’
‘Collinson?’ said Porter.
Then he remembered. She’d been tied to this miserable stake for the past week. She had no idea what was going on at home.
‘We were …’
‘I know,’ growled Porter.
There’s no need for her to know the history between us. It will only make things worse. If that was possible. ‘He’s meant to be heading up the effort to rescue you,’ said Porter. ‘I saw the latest broadcast. He’s been in Beirut today, and he might be in Israel by tomorrow.
‘If there’s a way, he’ll find me,’ sniffed Katie.
Dream on, girl, Porter reflected bitterly. If he can find a TV camera, he’ll pose for it. The bastard would have trouble finding his own arse and elbow. And if he did, he wouldn’t know how to get them in the right order.
‘You have to hold on in there,’ he said grimly. ‘If they have any idea where we are, they’ll come tonight.’
‘But you don’t think there’s any hope?’
Porter shrugged. He’d thought about it ever since he’d been here. He’d done hostage raids himself, he’d been trained for it, and there was no more difficult military operation, particularly if you wanted to get the hostage out alive. Even when it was on open ground, you had to get in quickly enough and take out enough of the opposition to secure control of the area before they killed the hostage. To stand much of a chance, you needed detailed maps, and you needed an access point where you could get a lot of men in fast. They didn’t have either. If they did get the location, they might try pumping some kind of nerve gas down into the mine to paralyse everyone down below: officially, those kinds of chemical weapons didn’t exist, but he’d heard rumours in the Regiment they were stockpiled somewhere for an emergency. They were meant to be sodding dangerous — unstable, rarely tested, and with potentially carcinogenic side effects — but that was all just hearsay. It was something they needed to be prepared for, though. If they had them, they’d surely use them tonight.