Free Payback by James Barrington Page B

hear exactly which godforsaken country I’m being sent to but, yes, apparently it’s
imminent.’
    ‘And then it’s back to camels and donkeys instead of black cabs and limos?’
    ‘Only if I’m lucky,’ Khatid said. ‘I think I walked most of the way across Afghanistan last time.’
    ‘If you two want to chat, do it in your own time,’ Simpson snapped. ‘Khatid, tell Richter what you heard in Germany.’
    ‘Right, Paul. It isn’t much, and it’s fairly non-specific. While we were in Berlin, I drove Hussein – he was the leader of our cell – to a meet with an Al-Qaeda
planner. The two of them talked in private, in a small safe house. I was told to guard the door, which meant I was very close to them, and I could hear some of their conversation. Mostly, the
planner discussed tactics and techniques, and I’ve already passed that data on to Five and Six.’
    ‘It was much better information than we’ve had for a while,’ Simpson interjected.
    Khatid looked pleased, and continued. ‘Anyway, right at the end of their conversation the planner told Hussein that a new attack was imminent, and that although there would only be a small
number of people involved, the results would be spectacular.’
    ‘There weren’t many terrorists on the front line in 9/11, and I think you could say the results of that attack were pretty spectacular,’ Richter pointed out.
    Khatid shook his head. ‘Hussein said something like that, but the Al-Qaeda planner told him it would be completely different, not a direct attack on the West at all. It wouldn’t be a
big bang, he said, but the effects would be felt all around the world.’
    ‘You mean they’re not aiming to blow up a building or hit an embassy, nothing like that?’
    ‘That’s the impression I got. Based on what I overheard, my best guess is that this time Al-Qaeda’s chosen an economic target, and probably one located somewhere in the Middle
East.’
    ‘Like what?’ Richter asked. ‘An oilfield?’
    ‘That’s an obvious possibility,’ Simpson said. ‘We don’t know any more at the moment, though Six has put some feelers out. Anything else, Khatid?’
    ‘No, that’s it. That was all they said.’
    Richter stood up and shook hands with him. ‘Take care of yourself, Salah. Send me a postcard from Kabul.’
    When the door closed behind Khatid, Simpson finished his briefing. ‘Right, so although I’m expecting you to check on this Holden character, you’re really going out to Dubai for
two different reasons. First, because that Damascus suicide bombing might have something to do with whatever foul little scheme the Al-Qaeda planners have come up with – it’s in the
right area, at any rate. And the second reason is that I want somebody out there, one of my people rather than a Legoland paper-pusher, just in case the shit does hit the fan.’
    Kondal, Russia
    Borisov had hoped to be out of the police station soon after Litvinoff left the interview room, but so far that hadn’t happened. The promised refreshments –
tea and a selection of small cakes that appeared to have been retained well beyond their sell-by date – duly arrived, but of Litvinoff there had been no further sign.
    By ten-thirty Borisov was getting worried, though he tried to remain as calm as possible, just in case there were hidden cameras watching him. At eleven the door opened, and a uniformed officer
appeared to escort him to the detention area, but Borisov noted that he was being treated with a little more respect. Perhaps Litvinoff had instructed the officers that he was not just some common
criminal.
    But they still locked him up for the night. The cell contained almost nothing – a tiny and inadequate radiator, barely warm; two bunk beds, each with a thin mattress, a pillow, a blanket
and a discoloured single sheet; a steel toilet bowl and sink bolted to the wall in one corner, and a small hand-towel. The only illumination was a bright bulb inside an armoured wall