The Trespass(103)

Sara looked up in alarm as the door was unlocked. “Jassim?” His face was a mask of urgency.

“Come. Quickly.” He took her hand. There was no one outside her temporary prison. Sara followed Jassim as they half walked, half ran through the dimly lit corridors. When they had reached a place Jassim considered safe, a little-used sacristy on the second level, he turned to her and whispered slowly.

“Listen carefully. I am sorry I cannot break this gently. He has killed Ruth –”

Sara’s hand was at her mouth; she felt as if something was choking her. Jassim’s fingers were on her lips. “No. Now is not the time for mourning. You must think of yourself – and the girl. She must come with you.”

“Where?” Sara was stunned, her mouth dry with shock.

“To the place of your childhood. You have told me about it many times. But it is still a secret place, is it not?”

Sara nodded mutely.

Jassim looked at her with sympathy. “The Americans are coming. And I think your Dracup is with them.”

Sara’s heart leapt. He was not coming for her, but she would protect Natasha nevertheless. It was the least she could do. She took Jassim’s hand.

“Jassim. Why are you helping me? He will kill you if he finds out.”

“Kill me? No.” Jassim smiled sadly. “I have waited and I have watched. Kadesh imagines that his success gives him license to act as he pleases. It is not so. There are others who share my views. Rest assured, I will be safe. His attention will now turn to you and the girl. Come – we have little time.”





Sara hurried to the waterfall with Natasha’s hand in hers. They waded across the shallow stream and she found the familiar groove that led to the funnel, her childhood haunt. Natasha was reluctant, but Sara’s hands pressed her down into the darkness.

“Feel with your feet. It’s fine. I’ve been down here hundreds of times.” They reached the bottom and Natasha clung to her. “You’ll get used to the dark. It’s the safest place for us.”

“Why? Where’s Ruth? Is she coming here too?”

Sara swallowed hard and squeezed the girl’s hand. “Hey. Just stop worrying, all right? Jassim will come and get us as soon as he can.”

“Why did you give him your necklace?”

Sara hesitated, unsure how much she should divulge. “So that... so that a friend of mine might recognize it and trust Jassim when he meets him.”

“Who?” the girl pressed. “It’s my daddy, isn’t it?” The tone of hope in her voice was agonising.

Sara nodded. “Yes. Bright girl.” She smoothed an errant wisp of hair away from Natasha’s forehead. “It’s your daddy.”

The little girl smiled. “Sara?”

“Yes?”

“You can call me ’Tash if you like.”





Chapter 36





The machine pistol felt clumsy in Dracup’s inexpert grip. The pilot was steadfastly ignoring his unexpected passenger, concentrating instead on steering the Chinook out of the black pall of smoke that hung over Baghdad International Airport. He shouted and pointed. Dracup looked at him blankly, then he understood. He picked up the headset with his free hand and clamped it over his ears. The pilot’s voice spoke clearly in the space between them.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing? Put that down before you kill us both. Strap in and hold tight.” The accent was unmistakably English, southern counties. Dracup felt strangely comforted. Then the helicopter lurched violently upwards, making him clutch at the belt as he fumbled with the unfamiliar fittings. The pilot flicked a switch on the complex array of dials and buttons spread out across the cockpit interior. Dracup felt the machine yaw violently to the right and from the corner of his eye saw a bright yellow and red streak soar away from them, falling to earth in a long irregular arc.

“What was that?” he shouted into the microphone.

“ALQ – anti-missile flares. Sit tight and keep praying.”

The Chinook climbed and banked as the pilot took evasive action. A dense white stream of smoke hurtled underneath them, chasing the flare like a greyhound running a rat to ground. Somewhere below there was a muffled explosion followed by another cloud of grey, sooty smoke. With clenched jaw the pilot bullied the machine into a rapid climb that left Dracup’s stomach on the other side of the cargo hold.

At last the helicopter levelled off and Dracup breathed again. The pilot pushed back in his seat and blew his cheeks out in relief. Then he turned his attention to Dracup. “You don’t look like a terrorist,” he said tersely, “so stop acting like one or I’ll have to shoot you myself.”