Bad Soldier: Danny Black Thriller 4 (37 page)

A thick, nervous silence descended on the room. Dhul Faqar stood again. He turned to Malinka. ‘Call the others in, my dear,’ he said.

Malinka nodded and left the room. Dhul Faqar walked towards the unit, but his eyes were still on the guards who kept them at gunpoint. Danny looked straight ahead. He didn’t want to give any indication of how hard he was concentrating, waiting for the split second of chaos that might occur if Dhul Faqar was foolish enough to reveal one of their guards as a traitor right in front of them.

Malinka returned with the two remaining guards from the observation towers. It was clear that they understood what was happening, because they looked terrified. They took up position on either side of the door.

‘Do not look so worried, everybody,’ Dhul Faqar said quietly. ‘I know which one of you is a traitor. If you have done nothing wrong, you have nothing to worry about.’

Why is he speaking in English, Danny thought. Whose benefit is
that
for?

A tense pause. ‘I gave each of you a name,’ he said. He pointed to Caitlin’s guard. ‘You,’ he said, ‘I gave the name Jacob Hakim.’ Spud’s guard. ‘You, I gave the name Aslan Hossein.’ Danny’s guard. ‘And you, I gave the name Kailash McCaffrey. I told you all that I was giving you the identity of a person who is important to us. I’m afraid I lied. Those three individuals are of no importance to us whatsoever. They are entirely disposable.’

Danny looked at Malinka. She was looking at each guard in turn, her almond eyes narrowed nastily. He wished he could see through those eyes. If one of their guards was a traitor, right now he was their best friend. And if he was nervous, Danny would be able to see it in his face . . .

‘News has just reached me,’ Dhul Faqar said, ‘that one of these men has gone missing. He is probably dead at the hands of the British security services. Or he is being tortured.’ He waved his hand as though swatting a fly. ‘That doesn’t matter, of course. He knows nothing, and we all serve Allah in whatever way we can. But the only reason he has been killed is because his identity was passed on by one of you.’ Another smile. ‘You are probably wondering who it is.’ Dhul Faqar looked at Caitlin’s guard. ‘It was not Jacob Hakim,’ he said. ‘Jacob is alive and well.’

Malinka’s eyes flickered between Spud’s guy and Danny’s. Danny focussed on the sensation of the gunmetal at the back of his head. Was it wavering? No. It was solid.

Dhul Faqar turned to Spud’s guard. ‘It was not Aslan Hossein,’ he said.

A pause. Dhul Faqar turned to Danny’s guard.

‘It was McCaffrey. Poor Kailash McCaffrey. I wonder what happened to him.’

Malinka stood up. She pointed towards Danny’s guard and looked over at the two men by the door. She barked some instructions in Arabic. One of the door guards strode towards Danny, weapon pointed directly at his head. The other bore down on Danny’s guy. There was a scuffle behind him, but Danny couldn’t take advantage: he was still at gunpoint.

‘And now,’ Dhul Faqar announced, ‘we shall see what happens to traitors.’

Danny’s guy started jabbering in Arabic. Danny didn’t understand the words, but he could hear the terror in his voice, and sense the tension among the other guards. Dhul Faqar listened with a bland look on his face. Then he recovered his iPad from where he was sitting. He approached Danny again, tapping the screen. Danny heard the familiar sound of a Skype ringtone. Dhul Faqar turned the iPad so that Danny – and the guards behind him – could see the screen.

The ringtone stopped. Video footage appeared.

There was an old lady in a dark room, strapped to a chair. She was Middle Eastern. Wrinkled, leathery skin. A rag stuffed in her mouth. Unbelievably frail.

Danny’s guy let out a gasp. ‘His mother,’ Dhul Faqar explained pleasantly to Danny. ‘I will explain to him that if he does not confess, we shall have to watch her die. You would do well to watch, Danny Black, because this is what your own family can expect, if you cause me any more trouble.’ He looked over Danny’s head at the guard, and spoke in Arabic. The guard replied. Dhul Faqar inclined his head. Then he raised the iPad slightly and spoke an instruction clearly intended for whoever was at the other end of the Skype call.

The reaction was immediate. A figure in a black balaclava appeared to the side of the old woman and thumped her hard on the side of the face. Danny’s guy shouted out again. The old woman’s eyes rolled and blood trickled from her nose. The figure struck her again. She started to cry.

Dhul Faqar was staring intently over Danny’s head at his suspect. The IS leader had a strange expression all of a sudden. Uncertain.

He spoke another word in Arabic. On the screen, the man in the balaclava stood behind the old lady’s chair, grabbed her hair with one hand and pressed a knife against her throat.

‘Confess,’ Dhul Faqar said quietly, ‘and she lives.’

There was a horrible silence in the room, broken only by the frightened mewing of the old lady on the screen.

Dhul Faqar’s eyes narrowed. ‘Confess,’ he repeated.

Danny’s guard replied in Arabic. His voice, suddenly, was strangely calm. Danny didn’t understand the words he spoke, but he thought he got their meaning. He was denying Dhul Faqar’s accusation.

Malinka was at Dhul Faqar’s shoulder. She breathed something into his ear, but Dhul Faqar shook his head. He issued an instruction in Arabic. Danny had time to see the man on the screen lower his knife from the old lady’s throat before Dhul Faqar turned the iPad round.

‘He passes the test,’ Dhul Faqar said quietly, his eyes on Danny.

Malinka was looking warily at Danny’s guard. ‘My love,’ she breathed. ‘You are in danger.’

‘Danger?’ Dhul Faqar said. ‘Certainly. But not from him.’

‘Dhul Faqar, you must be careful—’

‘There was another person in the room when I revealed that name to our friend here,’ Dhul Faqar interrupted.

Malinka turned to look at the slave girl tied to the post. The girl’s eyes were wide and frightened, but she clearly had no idea what was going on.

‘Her?’ Dhul Faqar said. ‘You think I have anything to fear from a pathetic creature like that? No.’ He turned to look at Malinka. ‘I am talking about you, my dear.
You
are the traitor.’

Danny knew, in an instant, that Dhul Faqar was right. It was the momentary tightening around her eyes, and the way she glanced quickly towards the exit.

It was as if the whole room was holding its breath. Total silence. Total stillness.

Malinka put on a slightly forced smile. ‘My love. What are you saying?’

‘I think I have been very clear.’

‘But my love, I have been by your side for years.’

‘Which makes your treachery all the more disappointing.’ Dhul Faqar looked towards the guards at the door and clicked his fingers. It was clear what he meant, and it was also clear that the guards took great pleasure in advancing towards Malinka and seizing her by both arms. Dhul Faqar stepped up to her and held her by the chin. ‘I think you are either British or American,’ he said. ‘Not British, now I think about it. If you were British, our guests would have known about you. American, then.’ He nodded to himself and murmured, ‘Never trust an American.’ For the first time, their eyes met. ‘I won’t kill you yet,’ he breathed. ‘My men will have their fun first. Then, when you are no more use to them, when you are just an empty, raped husk,
then
I will put you out of your misery, you pig-faced American whore.’

Danny’s head was spinning. Everything was moving too quickly. He still felt the debilitating nausea from seeing the footage of Clara and his little girl. He was totally confused about the scene unfolding in front of him. Was Dhul Faqar right? Was Malinka really an American agent? He knew they should take advantage of that confusion, but he couldn’t even think straight . . .

‘You’re probably wondering how I came across your CIA file, Danny Black,’ Dhul Faqar announced. ‘Would it surprise you to learn that it was from the CIA themselves?’ His eyes shone with triumph. ‘A gift, from one ally to another. But real allies do not spy on each other, as it seems the Americans have been doing. With one hand they give . . .’ He held up the iPad. ‘With the other, they take away . . .’ He indicated Malinka.

‘My love,’ Malinka breathed again.

Dhul Faqar took a step towards her. With a sudden, brutal swipe he hit her cheek with the back of his hand. There was a hiss of surprise from the assembled guards, and Danny saw a bead of blood trickle from her right nostril. ‘You know what’s coming, American whore,’ Dhul Faqar said very quietly. ‘Do not make it worse for yourself.’ He stepped towards the unit members. His face was contorted with hate. ‘I have a little something waiting for you, back in the cells. I hope you enjoy it.’ He addressed his guards, and now he no longer bothered speaking in English. His instructions were curt and aggressively delivered. The guards acted on them immediately.

The three members of the unit were forced out of the room at gunpoint. So was Malinka. There was no escaping. They were ushered across the open ground by the reservoir back towards the incarceration unit. Danny noticed that the guards were back in their observation towers. The bundle on the ground was no longer there.

At the door to the incarceration unit, they were told to line up in single file. Danny was at the front. He noticed a noise coming from inside that hadn’t been there before. A low, constant, monotonous buzzing. The nausea in his gut grew stronger. He knew what that sound was, and what it would mean.

One of the guards barked at him to enter the incarceration unit. Danny stepped in. He saw the source of the buzzing immediately.

A body was strung up at the front of the two cage cells, about a metre off the ground. Its arms were spread wide, so the hands were just above the doors of each cell. The body was female, and naked. The stomach had been split horizontally with a knife, and its contents had spilled out. The buzzing was caused by the hundreds of flies that were crawling over the glistening offal. Blood had dripped on to the ground. And tied to the front of the cells, on a very short rope, was a mongrel dog, licking at the blood.

Danny forced his eyes from the wound to the corpse’s face. It was grotesquely contorted. But recognisable. A young girl. Spots on her face. Naza.

A guard opened the doors to the two cage cells. The door to the enclosed cell that had been Danny’s was still ajar. Danny noticed as he passed that nobody had bothered to clear out the dead bodies. Not that he cared. His attention was on Caitlin, now walking at gunpoint beside him.

Her eyes were glazed. She hadn’t yet recognised the kid.

And then, suddenly, she did.

It was as though someone had flicked a switch. Caitlin suddenly lashed out against the nearest militant, grabbing the barrel of his rifle. ‘You cunts!’ she shrieked. ‘You fucking cunts!’

A second guard ran up to her and thumped the wound on her arm with the butt of his weapon. Caitlin screamed again – but with pain this time.

Danny grabbed her. She was struggling badly. The dog started to bark. Danny held up a conciliatory arm to the gunman – any movement now, he knew, and they would start squeezing triggers. ‘It’s OK,’ he shouted. ‘It’s OK . . . she’s not going to do anything.’

The gunmen were nervous and sweating. They started shouting, and forcing them towards the two cage cells, separated from each other by thick iron bars. Malinka was thrown into the left-hand one, Danny, Spud and Caitlin into the right. Danny understood the logic of separating them like this. These militants wouldn’t want anybody killing anybody else before their boss gave the word. It would be more than their own lives were worth. At the same time, they didn’t want to use Danny’s original cell, because they wanted the psychological effect of Naza’s body to do its work.

The doors to the cage cells clanged shut. The militants locked them. With dismissive sneers at their incarcerated prisoners, they left the block. There was silence, broken only by the grotesque buzzing of the flies that swarmed on Naza’s body, the sound of Caitlin hyperventilating, and the occasional growl from the dog.

Spud turned immediately to Danny. ‘They said they’re holding your kid to keep you compliant. But you know that’s bullshit? The moment you’re dead, they’re going to kill Clara and Rose. You
know
that, right?’

Danny barely trusted himself to speak. ‘Of course,’ he said. He moved to the front of the cage and examined the lock. It was a sturdy mortise bolt, deeply inset. Difficult to pick, even if they had had the right tools.

‘We’ve got five militants plus Dhul Faqar,’ Spud said.

‘For now,’ Danny replied without emotion. ‘They’ll call for reinforcements.’ He was only half aware that Caitlin was utterly silent. She looked like death warmed up. Her wound must be badly infected. No question. It was bringing her down.

He turned towards the other cell. Malinka was in the far corner. She was pale. Frightened eyes. Sweat on her brow. She was staring into the middle distance. One of the flies was crawling across her face, but she didn’t appear to notice. Danny couldn’t help a creep of revulsion. If Dhul Faqar was right, and this was an American spy, she was in so deep that she was hardly any better than the IS scumbags whose ranks she had infiltrated. She’d been more than happy to sacrifice Danny, Spud and Caitlin. And she had encouraged Dhul Faqar to kill his daughter.