I Am Pilgrim(252)

‘Karlsruhe?’ Dave said, trying to confirm it.

I had never heard his voice so gentle, and I wondered why. I hoped he was okay.

‘There’s a hotel there. The Deutsche König,’ I managed to say, before my voice trailed off again.

‘Great, that’s great,’ Whisperer said.

The president probably wondered if I was dying, but, despite the stakes and urgency, he didn’t try to force me on – I think he knew that somehow I was getting there.

‘Keep going,’ was all he said. ‘You’re a damned hero. Keep going.’

‘I should have asked for batch numbers,’ I rambled, weaker than ever. ‘I forgot things … The Saracen hurt me, you see … There was a child—’

‘Yes, we know,’ Whisperer said.

‘We shouldn’t have done that … It was … I just didn’t know any other way—’

‘Of course you didn’t,’ Whisperer replied. ‘It’s over now.’

From somewhere I found a burst of energy, and it helped bring some clarity. ‘It’s a vaccine,’ I said. ‘It’s in vaccine bottles.’

‘What vaccine?’ Whisperer asked, still in that strange, gentle voice.

‘Flu shots,’ I said. ‘He put it in flu shots. The season is here, immunization starts tomorrow.’

There was silence at the other end – I think they realized that I had done it. Two phone calls from the Hindu Kush had somehow led to doctors’ offices throughout America. Then Whisperer confirmed it, telling the president they had it all: the day, the manufacturer and the method. I thought they were about to hang up – there must have been a million things to organize – but instead Grosvenor spoke to me.

‘Where are you?’ he asked.

I didn’t reply. It was done. And I was squinting at the sun, thinking about the long journey that lay ahead of me.

‘He’s on the coast,’ Whisperer said. ‘Nineteen miles north of Bodrum. Is that right?’

I still said nothing. I was gathering my strength, marshalling whatever resources I had left – I was going to have to crab my way across the sand to the old jetty.

‘Can you hold on, Scott?’ Grosvenor asked, increasingly alarmed. ‘I’m sending choppers from the Mediterranean Fleet for you now. Can you hold on?’

‘We’ll have to tell the Turkish government,’ Whisperer interrupted.

‘Fuck the Turkish government,’ Grosvenor told him.

‘No, don’t! Don’t send anybody,’ I said. ‘I won’t be here.’

Grosvenor started to contradict me, wanting to know what I meant, but Whisperer stopped him.

‘It’s okay, Scott – I understand. It’s okay.’

‘Damned if I do,’ Grosvenor said. ‘I’m telling you, the choppers are coming.’

‘He’s injured, Mr President … They hurt him—’

It was time to go, and I suddenly started worrying that I had forgotten something. ‘Did you hear?’ I told them. ‘Ten thousand doses … Chyron … flu shots.’

‘Yes, we heard,’ the president replied gently. ‘I want to say on behalf of the—’

I hung up. It was done. All of it was done. To endure – wasn’t that what I had said I had to do? To endure.





Chapter Forty-four


THE TIDE HAD been surging higher and, entirely by accident, it helped me. I limped and staggered across the sun-baked sand, heading for the wooden jetty, and had no choice but to pass through the encroaching water.

When I was ankle deep, the sudden coldness of it calmed the pain in both my foot and mind. I stood for a long minute, allowing it to cool the fever and letting the salt sting and cleanse the open wounds.

With a clearer mind, I reached the jetty, grabbed a handrail and made my way to where Cumali was waiting. She had brought the little cruiser in stern first and had the motor idling. I hadn’t told her – we hadn’t talked about anything – but her journey was at an end. I was heading off alone, and I knew that what lay ahead of me was hard enough, especially in my condition, and I was anxious to start.

That was when we heard the gunshot.

We turned, looked at the Theatre of Death and I realized what I had overlooked, the mistake that I would wonder about for the rest of my life. Did I do it deliberately?

Certainly when I left the ruins I was exhausted, I could barely walk and I had to make the urgent call to Washington. Of course I had taken every precaution by unloading the weapons and keeping the clips. But that was all in my conscious mind. In a far deeper place, did I know that there was another weapon? One that was fully loaded – my own Beretta, the gun which the Albanians had taken from me at the fall of masonry and discarded next to my smashed cellphone? Did I leave it there for the Saracen to use on himself – and, if so, why?