Gerald Seymour - A Line in the Sand

"Just something I'd like to say."

Cox glanced at his watch, then said patronizingly, "Any further contribution you wish to make will be, of course, greatly valued."

Littelbaum smoothed, unsuccessfully, the tangle of his hair. Markham reckoned his hesitation was a good act. He thought the American was as hard as granite.

"That's gracious, much appreciated. It follows on from Mr. Markham's transcript. Quote, "You think I'll run away because of the say-so of those [expletive] bastards? Think again. Get it into your head I make my own decisions. I am not running away", end quote. That's good, excellent, that should be encouraged. The best place for him is at home. What I would urge on you, don't give him lunch and wine and show him photographs, keep him where he is, at home. There are rare occasions, too few for my liking, when we have the chance to win. This is such an occasion.." and I think you should take the opportunity as it presents itself."

Cox was back in his chair. The rest of them listened in silence.

"If you like, I am a surrogate child of Iran. Iran, my parent, feeds me, clothes me, provides my reason for living. Without that parentage I have no life. A child watches every move of its parents. So, I watch Iran… Iran is at war with the United States, with my government, and, if you'd care to recognize it, at war with you too. The weapons they have are stealth, deceit, the probing for weakness. My government, and I believe rightly, calls it state-sponsored terrorism, and every year puts Iran top of the world list. The war, most currently, is being fought on Saudi Arabia's territory. Iran's war aim is, via destabilization, to bring down the government of the kingdom and replace the administration of an ally that irritates us with that of an enemy actively hostile to us. The road to destabilization is through the bombing of the United States' military infrastructure now settled in Saudi Arabia. They are trying to force us out, and if we go the kingdom falls… I don't have to give you the statistics of oil reserves in Saudi Arabia. That country is a vile place, a police state, characterized by medieval cruelty, but it is important to us hear me, important. And it is a most challenging environment for an enemy to operate in. To survive there, to continue to kill, the enemy must be of the highest calibre. Our man rates up there. Each time he strikes he creates further government repression which, night following day, creates further destabilization. He organized the bombing of the National Guard barracks at Riyadh, five Americans dead, and the attack on the Kobar Tower barracks, nineteen Americans dead. Three Americans killed on the road between Dhahran and Riyadh. A Saudi general working with Americans was targeted and killed last year. We had a chance to take him last month, and we missed him. Missing him hurt, because we categorize him as the principal terror criminal confronting us. He was called home from Saudi Arabia, and sent here."

Geoff Markham thought him masterful. Littelbaum's voice was never pushed, he used his hands only rarely and then for the supreme moment of emphasis.

"It bleats, cannot hide, cannot escape. It cries out, attracts the predator, is stalked by the predator. It is watched, dragging at its rope, by the marksmen in the hide. It is the tethered goat…"

Fenton's breath whistled in his teeth. The red-haired woman gazed at the American in fascination.

"If you go with your rifle into the bush or the jungle or the desert then you have very little chance, the slimmest of possibilities, of searching out your predator. But the predator has to be killed. So you find a goat. You put a stake in the ground and a rope around its neck. It will attract the predator. You tie the rope to the stake and you sit in your hide with your rifle, and you watch your tethered goat."

They sat in hushed quiet around the table as if, Markham thought, none of them dared to interrupt the bravado of the proposal.

"Afterwards, when you have shot the predator, you will receive the thanks of the community and you will walk with pride. You don't have to put the body on show. Others won't come, predators learn quickly, others will stay away. Forget your lunch, wine and photographs. Leave Frank Perry in place, where the predator knows he can find him. Make the hide, put good men in it… You are lucky, so lucky, that you have a bait available."

Fenton and Cox spoke at once.

"That is fraught with danger."

"It's brilliant."

The Branch superintendent said there would be minimal risk to his people because the beast would have eyes only for the goat.

The red-haired woman chuckled, said nothing, but she patted the American's hand lightly.

Cox murmured nervously, "But the consequences of such action, they could be dire…"

"Not if the matter is handled with discretion. With the necessary discretion there are no consequences. But, believe me, the necessary message will reach the Ministry of Information and Security -discretion avoids consequences."

"We'll buy that, if there's discretion," Cox said.

"I'll take responsibility for running it," Fenton rasped.

"At the moment we're drifting. This way we have purpose."

"Our discretion is guaranteed, my word on it." Littelbaum spoke with sincerity.

"It's what we'd do, if we'd had the luck that's given to you."

Geoff Markham wanted to ask, and didn't: how long would the marksmen wait before they fired? He held his silence. In the interests of a better shot, would they sacrifice the goat? The American had turned away from his audience and rubbed his poorly shaven chin. Only Markham saw the satisfaction of his smile.

He hadn't asked his question because he already knew the answer, had seen it in their eyes. He slipped out of the room and left behind him the clinking glasses and the pop of a drawn cork.

Jerry and Mary Wroughton had lived in the next house with their five-year-old twins, Bethany and Clive, before Frank and Meryl had arrived in the village.

They were able to buy the house of pink stucco, four bedrooms, overlooking the green, with upstairs views out across the sea because the bank offered favourable mortgage terms to employees. Without that they wouldn't have had a sniff at it and with it Jerry had to be everybody's friend at work while Mary had to have a full-time job as a receptionist in a local surgery. In truth, they lived behind their front door as semi-paupers. Appearances, for Jerry and Mary Wroughton, were deceptive and their poverty was hidden. To the outside world, they presented an aspect of cheerful, friendly affluence. Jerry Wroughton liked to be thought of as a bank manager, dropping 'deputy'; Mary gave her job description as a practice manager, not mentioning the word 'receptionist'.

Just as Jerry, at work, acquired customers, and Mary, at work, acquired patients, so both, in the village, acquired friends. Friends went with the territory.

And they were, of course, careful in the acquisition of their friends.

Friendships, as with everything else in their lives, were planned. Friendships were useful, important, should not create stress. Friendships should not provide unpleasant or jarring surprises. Both hated surprises. They were close to the Carstairs, on good terms with the vicar, relaxed with the Fairbrothers, but their best friends were in the next house. There were never any surprises from Frank and Meryl Perry… not until that evening.

What Jerry and Mary liked about Frank and Meryl was that they listened. Jerry could talk all night round the kitchen table and Frank always seemed to find what he said interesting. Meryl was so kind, always ready to help out in a crisis, having the twins round if Jerry and Mary were kept out late, always prepared to shop for them if work were too pressing. They had never had any cause for complaint about their closest neighbours.