For the second time in twenty-four hours, Dave had saved someone’s life merely by raising his voice. Maybe I should audition for RADA, he thought. It’s got to be safer than this.
Peggy had stayed in cobra all day with a small group from Thames House, working closely with the intelligence analysts from the other departments as they put together as much information as they could find to help the SAS plan their rescue mission. From time to time Liz had rung in for an update, and at six o’clock in the evening she had joined the substantial group of people from various departments who’d assembled to hear the SAS’s presentation to the Foreign Secretary of their operational plan for the rescue attempt the following morning.
In the pre-dawn darkness, Liz again climbed the few steps from Whitehall to the door of the Cabinet Office, to wait for news to come in of the progress of the operation. By the time she reached the windowless briefing room, reports had started to arrive of a fire fight at the camp; a little later she heard with relief that Dave Armstrong and Captain Guthrie had been successfully rescued. She was still there several hours later when medical reports came in that Guthrie was suffering from what appeared to be pneumonia and that Dave had been beaten badly but was not seriously injured.
Shortly afterwards, as she was watching a shaky hand-held video of the rescue on one of the screens, Peggy waved her over. A call had come in for her from Martin Seurat’s office in Paris. Liz took the phone, expecting to hear Martin congratulating her on Dave’s rescue, but it was one of his colleagues telling her that M. Seurat had gone over to the Santé prison with a colleague from the DCRI. Amir Khan had told his warders that he was prepared to talk.
Much later, after Liz was back at home, exhaustedly downing a glass of Sauvignon in celebration of Dave’s rescue, Martin himself rang. ‘I have heard that your colleague is free. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. It’s a great relief,’ Liz said. Enough had gone wrong in the operation for her to feel that they were very fortunate things had turned out as well as they had.
‘It’s not the only reason I am calling. I hope you got my message that I went to see our friend in the Santé with Cassale. He says he’s willing to talk some more, but he’s scared – he knows there are Al Qaeda prisoners in there who would not hesitate to kill him if they thought he was talking to us. He wants reassurances about his safety before he gives out any more information.’
‘Can you or Cassale give those to him?’
‘I could try, but there’s a problem. He wants reassurances from you too. And in person – I’m afraid he was insistent on this point.’
So, this morning, Liz had dragged herself out of bed to catch an early Eurostar. It was clear when she arrived at the prison that something fairly dramatic had occurred to change the French attitude to Amir. She had been surprised to be told that the interview was not to take place in the high-security wing. She had instead been shown into a small, comfortably furnished office, where she settled into an armchair, with a cup of coffee to wait for Amir Khan.
The door opened and Amir walked in, followed by Martin. The armed guard had gone, as had the chains that had bound Amir’s arms and legs. Now he walked upright instead of shuffling, his head no longer bowed. Looking straight at Liz, he nodded and said ‘Good morning’ with a slight smile, then sat down on the chair that Martin indicated.
Martin said formally to Liz, ‘I have had a long talk with Amir and he says that he wants to tell us his story. There are some reassurances he is asking for that only the British can give, so I thought it best that you come in person to hear what he has to say.’
Amir looked at her and nodded. ‘I want to tell you what happened because I want you to stop it happening to anyone else. If I do this, then I want to see my sister so I can explain things to her. But you must guarantee she’ll be safe if she comes to see me here.’
Liz said nothing while she thought about this. What Amir was asking for was perfectly reasonable from his point of view, but it was not something she could immediately agree to. It would take a lot of sorting out. Liz couldn’t give him any reassurances about his own position, since it hadn’t been decided yet what if any charges he should face, or in which country he would face them: France or England.
Tahira, moreover, was now effectively a recruited agent and vital to the investigation. If she were suddenly brought over here, she would have to be pulled out of the operation, which would mean they’d lose their one means of contact with Malik. And what’s more, as Amir himself understood, just bringing her to the prison to talk to him might put her in serious danger. This would need careful thinking about.
Amir was watching her closely; Liz could see from his face that if she said the wrong thing he was going to refuse to speak. She had to take a risk.
