Andy McNab - Deep Black

The windows rattled as some helis came in low and fucked about just above the building. The pilots were probably eyeing up the women on the sun-loungers. Rob waited for them to leave, then got back to the story.

'A couple of provinces in Pakistan have now even banned Coca-Cola altogether. Imagine where this could lead – if Nuhanovic does the same with electrical goods, cars, food, clothes. It's got people flapping. Not just corporations, but governments. Our man is a cancer that needs to be cut out before it can spread.'

'And what do you want with him?'

Rob picked up his keys. 'Look, I need to go down and get some cold ones. You coming, Nick?'

I got to my feet. Jerry stayed where he was. He was learning, slowly.

We took the stairs again. At the bottom, we went through the glass doors and on to the terrace. Within seconds, Rob was ordering some water from a crumpled shirt who'd appeared from nowhere. I watched two others trying to fish out a parasol the helis had blown into the pool.

We moved out of earshot of the Aussie as the crumpled shirts resorted to brooms and a lot of Arabic curses.

'I don't mind you both staying, but I'll have to get the OK from my man and tell him what's going on with you two. He's too good a guy to be kept in the dark.'

'We'll keep out of the way, whatever.'

The Aussies swapped positions, probably to relieve the boredom.

'You could be still out on your arse. I'll vouch for you, but if my man says no, there's nothing I can do about it. '

'Fair one.' The heat was unbearable. 'There's something I want to tell you.' I nodded over to a patch of shade near the building. 'Jerry doesn't realize this, but I know Nuhanovic – well, sort of. You remember the Mladic Paveway job? It was me you put the cache in for. Nuhanovic was there.'

Rob listened intently as I told him about that day, how Nuhanovic had fronted up to Mladic and saved so many people. Then I told him about Zina, and about the general surviving because Sarajevo had called off the strike. 'I don't give a fuck about Jerry's picture any more – never did.' I had just discovered something, and it had taken me by surprise. 'I want to meet him for myself.'

The waiter reappeared. Rob took a bottle for himself and handed me the tray. He liked the idea. 'I've got to go and talk to my man.' He headed for the glass doors.

'If you find him, I wouldn't mind being there.'

He turned, the bottle at his lips. 'Things might work out a lot better than just meeting him – if you're up for it.'

That was the second time he'd talked as if he was some game-show host. 'What the fuck are you on about? Start tree-hugging and stop drinking Coke?'

'You'll find out soon enough. We're leaving in about thirty, meeting someone who might know where he is. Maybe my man will let you tag along so he can explain exactly what I'm talking about. I'm just going to grab some kit, and have a word with him. See you here in a bit?'

He disappeared into the lobby.

Rather than bake outside I waited in Reception, sipping occasionally from the not-so-cold symbol of American imperialism I'd bought. Canned in Belgium, with information in French and what looked like Greek, it promoted the 2002 World Cup in Japan.

It was quiet; there was no one around apart from the two behind the desk. They exchanged the odd sentence in Arabic, and there was a clink now and again of tea-glasses on saucers as the serving staff made themselves sound busy at the back.

I sat there thinking about these Muslim colas. There were nearly a billion and a half Muslims, and it was the world's fastest-growing religion. No wonder the corporations were getting jumpy.

Fifteen minutes went by. Finally Rob came downstairs. He had a pistol on his belt, and the AK in his hands had a mag on.

'Jerry OK?' I asked. I put the Coke down on the floor by my foot, not too sure how Rob would react to the red can.

'He was on the phone – but shut down when I came in. Big secret?'

'He's got a source in Washington who thinks he knows where Nuhanovic might be.'

Rob sat down next to me. 'I've got some good news. You're staying. And my man wants to talk.'

'About Nuhanovic?'

'About work. Listen, I vouched for you, explained your connection with Nuhanovic. He liked that. If my man's plan works, people like us are going to be needed back in Uzbekistan. If he likes you, there could be a job going. I'm not talking about this circuit crap. We don't need knuckle-draggers with no commitment. This will be doing something good. Don't you want to do that?'

'Sort of. Depends on your view of good, I suppose.'

'Have you been to the hospitals here?'

I bent down for the can, shaking my head. He saw it anyway.

'We went this morning. There's kids missing arms and legs. Some have watched their whole families being wiped out. My man is organizing medical supplies. Crazy, isn't it? A poor relation like Uzbekistan sending supplies to an even poorer one. Do you know why he's having to do that?'

I could imagine, but let him carry on anyway.

'Because there's still nothing decent coming from the CPA, and most of what does gets stolen anyway.' Rob was pretty worked up. He was having a pool-party flashback. 'Look out there.' He pointed through the door, towards the terrace. 'Look at that poor fucker.' The Aussie squaddie was taking off his helmet to wipe the sweat from his shaven head with a heavily tattooed forearm. 'Like I said, rich kids don't fight wars. There's no rich kids in that hospital. It's just the poor on both sides that get fucked over. My man wants Nuhanovic to stop all this shit happening in Uzbekistan.'

'How's he going to do that?'

'He'll tell you. If you guys like each other, you could come back with us. We'll even take Jerry off your hands, drop him off in Turkey for you. Interested?'

Of course I was: if something was good enough for Rob it was good enough for me. Besides, the grass is always greener; except there wasn't any grass. I took a swig of black stuff. 'Maybe.'

He smiled. Perhaps he wanted someone he knew working alongside him. Perhaps he wanted to cure me of my Coke habit. 'We're leaving in about fifteen. I'm going to clear the vehicle, then pick up my man. Remember, Nick, I've vouched for you so don't fuck up. Just listen to what he has to say.'

Rob handed me the key and headed for the doors. I went back upstairs. The door to the balcony was open. Jerry was on the floor.

'What the fuck are you doing down there?'

'Just testing the camera, getting some low light shots.'

I looked down. Rob was half underneath a battered, dust-covered blue BMW 3 Series with the bonnet up, checking for any devices.

'What you call DC for?'

'What?'

'I said not to use it again. You know what could happen.'

'I know, sorry, but I thought I'd call one last time. See if he had anything.'

'And?'

'Nah, not a thing.' He got up and took a bottle from the tray. 'Life here's a constant cycle of hot drinks followed by cold ones, isn't it?'

'You tell him there's no more calls from you now?'

He nodded as I closed the balcony doors. His Adam's apple moved up and down as he got the fluid into him.

We sat and I took a couple of mouthfuls myself then brought Jerry up to speed. 'Rob cleared it with his boss. We can stay.'

'You get his name?'

'Didn't ask. Listen, I'm going to see Rob downstairs again in a few. I might be going with them to meet someone – sounds like a friend of a friend.'

Jerry was up and heading towards his kit.

'Just me, mate. That's the way he wants it.'

He held the bumbag in one hand and the camera in the other. 'I should be there, Nick.'

'Hey, we're hiding from the fucking US Army, remember? We can't call your source again, and we're fucked without Rob. Let's hold tight here and see if these guys can find him. If so, that's when we talk to them about the picture.'