Алистер Маклин - Time of the Assassins

‘Perhaps he’s already fled the country. Interpol been alerted.’

‘How could he have fled the country without any money?’ She shook her head. ‘No, it all points to him being held against his will somewhere. Mike never travels without cash and credit cards. So why call me unless he had lost them? Or had them stolen?’

‘You really believe he’s innocent, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do.’ She got to her feet. ‘Is there anything I can do to help him?’

‘It’s a police matter now, Miss Cassidy.’ Farouk capped his pen and pointed it at her. ‘If he should contact you, tell him to call me. It would be in his best interests.’

‘I doubt he will call me,’ she said with a dejected shrug. ‘He doesn’t even know I’m here.’

Farouk got to his feet and came round the desk to shake her hand. ‘Thank you for your time, Miss Cassidy.’

She nodded and walked to the door.

‘Oh, Miss Cassidy?’ Farouk waited until she turned to look at him. ‘If you’re caught trying to help him escape you’ll be charged with aiding and abetting a wanted criminal. Bear it in mind.’

‘Sure,’ she replied and closed the door behind her.

Laidlaw had been detained by the police only hours after Barak’s murder and although they had interrogated him at regular intervals every four hours, trying to break him down, he had managed to stick to his story. He had met Graham, or Green as he had referred to him throughout the interrogation, for the first time at the Windorah. They had talked for a while then he had given Green a lift back to his hotel. He had never seen him again after that. He knew no-one had seen him at Barak’s house otherwise he’d have been charged straight away.

He had been finally released after thirty-six hours. He had tried to sleep when he got home but to no avail. The voice haunted him: the voice of the policeman, Farouk. But he had never seen Farouk’s face.

He had asked the questions at every interrogation but always from behind the sanctuary of a powerful table lamp. Why hadn’t he shown his face? Laidlaw had racked his brains over and over but he couldn’t place the name. So why had he been so secretive? Laidlaw knew he could be overreacting from lack of sleep – it could have been a plan to try and break him down: a voice, no face. But still it troubled him. Who was Farouk?

He punched the pillow angrily. Forget Farouk. Just get some sleep. But he couldn’t. That monotonous, grinding voice was in his head and he couldn’t get rid of it. He kicked the sheet off and swung his legs onto the floor. Pushing the hair from his face he looked at the bedside clock. It had been five hours since he’d got home, and he hadn’t slept in that time. All because of that damn voice. He stifled a yawn then stood up and went into the kitchen. He opened the freezer and helped himself to a cold beer and the last of the chicken drumsticks from the packet he had bought earlier in the week. He tossed the empty packet onto the overflowing bin in the corner of the room and sat down at the table. Just as he was about to open the beer the doorbell rang. He shook his head in despair then got to his feet and went to open the door.

‘Russell Laidlaw?’

‘That’s right,’ Laidlaw muttered. ‘You’re not a reporter, are you?’

‘My name’s Sabrina Cassidy, I’m a friend of Mike’s.’

‘Mike?’

‘Mike Graham,’ Sabrina retorted with a hint of irritation in her voice. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Look, come back later. I’m absolutely exhausted. I’ve been in police custody for the last thirty-six hours. And it’s all thanks to your friend Mike.’

‘I think he’s in trouble,’ she said. ‘Please, we need to talk.’

Laidlaw rubbed his eyes wearily then pulled open the door. ‘What the hell. I couldn’t sleep anyway.’

‘Thanks,’ she said and stepped inside.

‘You’ll have to forgive the mess,’ Laidlaw said, closing the door. ‘I’m not very domesticated.’

She followed him into the kitchen and sat down in the chair offered to her.

‘You want a beer?’ he asked.

‘Coffee, if you’ve got it.’

‘Somewhere,’ he replied and switched the kettle on before rummaging through the drawers. He found the coffee jar and put a heaped spoonful into the only clean mug he could find. ‘You say you’re a friend of Mike’s. You work with him?’

‘That’s right,’ she replied.

Laidlaw opened the beer and drank a mouthful.

‘And you’re out here to find him? Well, I wish you luck.’

‘You saw him, didn’t you?’

‘I met him, yes – at the Windorah; it’s a bar in town. We talked a bit then I gave him a lift back to his hotel. I never saw him after that.’

Sabrina exhaled deeply. ‘How can I convince you I’m on the level?’

Laidlaw filled the cup with hot water then placed it on the table in front of her. He put the milk bottle beside the cup. ‘Help yourself. Look, Miss Cassidy, I met your friend–’

‘Spare me the act,’ she cut in angrily. ‘You served in Delta together. It was on an operation in Libya that his family was kidnapped by Arab terrorists to try and force him to countermand the order to attack. The two men behind the kidnapping were Salim Al-Makesh and Jean-Jacques Bernard. Al-Makesh was killed by the Israelis. Bernard was thought to have been killed in a car-bomb attack a year and a half ago. Mike obviously found out Bernard was alive and came out here to get him. You were his contact. That’s all we know. I’ve been sent here to find out what really happened and get him back to the States.’

Laidlaw pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. ‘Carrie gave Mike a watch as a Christmas present. What make was it?’

‘Piaget. Gold-plated. And it was a birthday present. Satisfied?’

Laidlaw nodded. ‘Satisfied. Who’s this “we” you mentioned?’

‘I can’t tell you, I’m afraid.’

‘Undercover work in other words?’

‘Something like that,’ she replied.

‘Are you his partner?’

She nodded. ‘Did you tip him off about Bernard?’

‘Yeah. I saw Bernard outside the American University Hospital. I knew Mike would want to know.’

‘And where did this Barak fit into the picture?’

‘Barak had been a Delta contact for years. If anybody could find Bernard, then he could. Until Mike put a bullet in his back.’

‘Mike didn’t kill him, you know that,’ she retorted sharply.

‘All I know is that when I reached the house Barak was dead. Then I saw Barak’s car being driven away at high speed. And Mike had gone. Put two and two together.’

‘It has to be a set-up. Why kill the one man capable of leading him to Bernard? It makes no sense.’

‘I wasn’t there when he went into the house. He insisted on that. I don’t know what they discussed.’

‘Only Mike knows that. That’s why we have to find him.’

‘Not “we”. You can count me out. I put myself on the line for him once already and look where it got me: thirty-six hours in jail; interrogations every four hours. No, Miss Cassidy, if you want to find Mike, you find him by yourself.’

‘I don’t know my way around Beirut.’

‘So get a guide. There’s plenty of them. And they don’t cost much.’

‘If it’s money–’

‘Don’t insult me, Miss Cassidy,’ Laidlaw snapped sharply.

She raised a hand in apology. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I need your help, Mr Laidlaw. And so does Mike. If the police get to him first, he’ll be put away for life.’

‘And what if he did kill Barak? What if he is guilty? You’re going to help a killer flee justice.’

‘I don’t know how well you know Mike. I think I know him pretty well. He’s a damn good professional and he wouldn’t jeopardize his career by putting a bullet in the back of some two-bit informer.’