Devil’s Harvest (37 page)

Gabriel had brought an A4 envelope into the ‘discussion session’, which so far had remained unopened, and uninvestigated by his interrogator, though he had made no attempt to hide it away. Now he opened the seal and slid his hand into the envelope. He placed a small nugget of metal on the table. Todd looked at him in puzzlement.

‘You may not have seen much combat, judging by your state of hygiene and fashion sense. So I’ll explain to you what this is. It’s a spent AK-47 bullet. Not the casing, but the bullet itself. I picked it up. In a UNHCR camp in Unity State, South Sudan.’

Gabriel twirled the bullet between his fingers, pressing into the dents and flattened sides. Todd continued to look at him with incredulity.

‘What this little bullet tells you, Mr MI6, is simply this: I’ve seen things that you couldn’t begin to comprehend. I’ve seen things that, until recently, I couldn’t have begun to understand. I have been to hell. I’ve seen the Devil at work.’

Todd looked somehow embarrassed, whether at his own shortcomings or Gabriel’s melodramatic imagery.

‘I have returned, Todd, feeling quite bloody pissed off. So if you think for one moment that I’m going to bow to some snotty bureaucrat in an Armani suit just because he asks me in a cultured accent, then you’d better think again. I’m not interested in you or your questions, or your dead agent, Jannie, or the piece of a British missile he was holding in his dying hand (his left hand; he holds his cigarettes in the right) when I took it off him in Malual Kon village.’

The effect of this disclosure was immediate. Todd’s mouth opened in genuine surprise, and then closed. His eyebrows rose as he absorbed the significance of the statement. And then he was gone. The door closed after him with a tight hiss.

A little while later, a woman in a pencil skirt brought Gabriel a tray with more tea, this time with sugar and biscuits.

It took about an hour before Todd returned with Jane in tow. Two other men joined him: a nondescript official with piggy eyes and nasty acne scars on his cheeks and neck, and an older man, with wispy, greying hair. The older man seemed ill, his skin sallow and his hands continually fidgeting about his abdomen. There was a look of destitution etched into his once regal face. The two men were introduced to him as Undersecretary Smith and Air Marshal Bartholomew, though neither shook his hand. Bartholomew returned Gabriel’s searching gaze with tired, rheumy eyes.

Jane appeared harried and unsure of how to relate to her husband, at first distant and barely smiling and then trying to hold his hand in a pathetic show of affection. There was something desperate about her obsequious responses to Todd. Gabriel had already gathered from Todd’s questioning that the MI6 man had had a prior ‘discussion’ with her: no doubt it had been a more protracted encounter. Her employment was almost certainly at risk, but nevertheless her slightly coquettish demeanour was annoying. Her hair appeared brassier than before, a colour extracted from chemicals rather than genes, and her breasts were unnaturally perky, sticking out horizontally from an overly tight top. Had she always looked and behaved like that, Gabriel wondered. How had he failed to notice it through all their years of marriage?

Gabriel heard Todd clear his throat. Tactically, he would have to prevent the secret service agent from taking control. He had so aggressively insisted on the presence of these people, now was the moment he had to assert his demands. Gabriel rolled the AK-47 bullet out into the middle of the table. Todd’s eyes narrowed as he focused on his interviewee.

‘This comes from Jila Refugee Camp,’ Gabriel announced to his audience.

Everyone watched the bullet as it rolled on the table top, eventually resting still on the shiny surface. Gabriel reached into the envelope and pulled out a cloth epaulet ripped from Al Babr’s uniform. He placed it face-up in the middle of the table as a card player might place a winning card in a game of poker. In retrospect, he realised looking down at the small patch, it may have been more dramatic if the fabric had been marked with the militiaman’s blood, but he’d torn it from the man’s jacket on the uninjured side, avoiding the still-spreading crimson stain across his uniform.

Then Gabriel pulled out a single photograph, an A4-sized print of a young boy in the ravine at Malual Kon, lying in a broken heap on the rocks. Jane gave a little cry of anguish, and Gabriel felt his own heart stumble in its rhythm at the memory of the gulley.

The rat-like bureaucrat stared coldly at the collection of artefacts in front of him. Only the air marshal seemed disturbed, glancing from Gabriel to Todd and back again.

‘Your mercenary from Khartoum thought he’d destroyed my photographs. But, unfortunately for you, a memory card is harder to crush than the camera itself. I have many photographs of the mass grave at Malual Kon village, just like this one. And I have photographs of your agent, the South African, and your mercenary, The Tiger,’ Gabriel lied. ‘And I have photographs of Deng’s daughter, murdered in front of—’

‘Her body was never found,’ Todd interjected. ‘Even if she is dead, we had nothing to do with it. And we have no connection to any “tiger”.’

Bartholomew leant across to Todd. ‘Mercenary? The Tiger? What the hell’s he on about?’ he asked hoarsely.

Todd held up his hand to silence him and Bartholomew sat back and stared at Gabriel, bewildered. His nonplussed expression told Gabriel much: their fear didn’t lie in the carnage at the village. The shooting of Alek wasn’t what concerned them. They weren’t even worried about Jannie, their unsuccessful agent. It was all collateral to them. He would have to play all his cards.

‘Where is Deng’s daughter?’ Todd asked.

Todd and Gabriel glared each other down for a few moments.

‘Safe. Where you’ll never find her,’ Gabriel answered, his jaw clenched.

Gabriel retrieved his bullet and rolled it in his fingers to calm himself before continuing. ‘As you know, I was detained and searched thoroughly at Heathrow on my return. I’m aware that at Nairobi you’d already had your agents go through my bags. I know also what you were looking for. It is, I assure you, safely in the country.’

Todd cocked his head, sizing up his opponent.

‘It’s an amazing service that UPS offers,’ Gabriel continued, trying not to gloat. ‘Even from a place like Juba. Delivery within days. To anywhere and anyone.’

He noted the curl of Todd’s lips with some satisfaction. Sometimes the simplest of options provided the best solution.

‘So let’s not play games, gentlemen. I’ll come to the point. I have proof of a drone strike in South Sudan on a civilian target. I may not have the proof that this was carried out by our military, or that it was perpetrated at the request of Khartoum, but I imagine that once the media have finished with the story, a commission of inquiry will ascertain the true financiers of this little project.’

The choice of the word ‘project’ had been entirely unintentional, but the effect on the air marshal was marked.

‘The Reaper Project has been shut down,’ the man blurted out.

Todd hissed at him with a pained expression on his face.

Gabriel had never heard of the Reaper Project, but from Todd’s reaction he understood that the air marshal had overplayed his hand.

‘Has it now?’ he pressed Bartholomew.

‘Yes, all contact with Khalid Hussein has been terminated. What is it that you want? Is it money you want? Who are you working for?’

Gabriel had prepared a list of his demands, but neither Reaper nor Mr Hussein was on it. Rather than risk disclosing his ignorance, he left the list in the envelope and focused on recalling the items he’d written down while on the plane.

‘I’m an employee of the University of Bristol. I’m a botanist. I do not have a code name Birdman. I do not deal covertly in helicopter parts. I’m not an arms trader. I do not work for any international spy ring. The closest I’ve come to James Bond was at the release of the last 007 film, the name of which I now forget. And I don’t want money. I don’t wish to bring harm to this government …’

Gabriel paused but it was difficult to assess what impact, if any, his speech was having on his audience, save for Jane who appeared to be regarding him with some kind of awe. The piggy-eyed official was paying attention for the first time, which Gabriel presumed was a good sign.

‘However,’ he continued, ‘this scandal certainly has the capacity to embarrass the British government internationally. The assassination of Matthew Deng is unforgivable. The collusion in the shooting of his daughter is something that cannot be wished away. It will remain with me for the rest of my life. So, indeed, Air Marshal, the termination of the project and all links to Mr Hussein would simply be the start. I would expect those involved to resign – at the very least.’

Bartholomew paled somewhat at the suggestion, and Gabriel knew he had his man.

‘But I have some specific requirements of my own,’ he went on. ‘In return, I shall hand over to you one small rectangular piece of metal as well as an undertaking not to reveal its significance to any person outside of this room.’

Todd looked furious, his fists balled like a child trying to restrain an impending tantrum.

‘What are these “requirements”? Need I remind you that these are matters of state security and we can just as easily lock you up for undermining the safety of this country? Did you know that the government of Khartoum planned to use that evidence to blackmail the government into concluding a disadvantageous arms deal? You’re now in danger of perpetuating that very insult.’

‘With all due respect, Todd, the only undermining of British stability has been at your hands and the hands of those involved in this debacle. My conditions are reasonable and easily met. However, should you decide to be difficult—’

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Todd spluttered, ‘get on with it.’

Gabriel paused for effect, though in truth he needed to gather his thoughts to make sure he didn’t leave out anything critical.

‘Firstly, and rather obviously, you’ll leave me and my wife entirely alone. Our possessions will be returned to us. We’ll not ever see you, have contact with you, be interfered with by you. Ever. Furthermore, I understand that my wife has been suspended pending further investigation into her role in this matter. You have my assurance that her part – whatever it might have been – was entirely coincidental. Loose morals do not equate to treason, not even on this cloistered little island. She is to be reinstated in her position, and her personnel file is to contain no mention of these events whatsoever.’

Jane put her hand on Gabriel’s arm.

‘I thought you were estranged,’ Todd spat at him.

‘We are,’ Gabriel said, ignoring his wife’s touch. ‘And we are soon to be divorced.’ Jane withdrew her hand as if stung. ‘But the condition remains.

‘Secondly, I’ll prepare a dossier of photographs, physical evidence and a witness statement. This evidence will establish uncontrovertibly that members of the Sudan reserve police force, and a militia of Sudanese military, have conducted raids into the independent territory of South Sudan. It will document the destruction of Malual Kon village and other villages like it, and the killing of hundreds of innocent people. This dossier will be delivered by a suitably high-ranking official of the British ministry of foreign affairs to their counterpart in the government of South Sudan. It will thereafter be raised by the British representative of the Security Council at the United Nations at an emergency meeting of the Council.’

Both Todd and the rat-faced man were observing him closely. Indeed, once Gabriel paused, he realised that all eyes in the room were on him, weighing each word. They had expected more, he understood now. They had anticipated retribution.

‘There are two more conditions. Both easily attainable, I believe.’ Todd’s eyes narrowed to malevolent slits. ‘Firstly, there’s a refugee camp in Unity State called Jila. It needs a new generator.’

There was an expletive of released breath from one of the men at the table, Gabriel couldn’t be sure from whom. He focused on Todd.

‘The donation will
not
be done through a third-party NGO,’ he continued. ‘It’ll be given in the name of the British government. It’ll be delivered to the camp, care of its manager – her first name is Margie. You work out the logistics.’

Todd sat back in his chair, his eyes to the ceiling.

‘And Todd …’ – the man’s eyes returned to Gabriel like darts – ‘… contrary to your nature, be generous.’

Todd seemed to hiss rather than acquiesce, but there was a clear lightening of the mood among the remaining listeners around the table. They were starting to realise that Professor Cockburn was not the renegade they had feared.

‘And, lastly, you’ll all attend my lecture on the outcome of my research project at the University of Bristol in a month’s time. It’s non-negotiable. You will all be there. In return for meeting these conditions, I will hand to you, Todd, the missing piece of the missile that is in my possession. Once all conditions have been satisfied.’

Todd remained irritable, but the air marshal leant forward and rather theatrically put out his hand to Gabriel. ‘We have a deal, Professor. Absolutely. Absolutely, we have a deal.’

Had he let them off too lightly, Gabriel suddenly wondered, relieved that he’d got this far, and now worrying that he could have gone further. He checked himself. Such is human greed: to achieve what you set out to attain, only immediately to wish that the goal had been set higher. He took Bartholomew’s hand and looked into the old man’s eyes. He saw many things in that moment of contact: relief, stress, compassion. And fear.

Gabriel didn’t bother to look at Todd. The deal was done; he knew that. He felt a tugging at his side and turned to face Jane, her eyes puffy with tears.

‘Thank you, Gabriel. I hadn’t expected it of you. I’m so sorry for everything. I just think—’

‘The direction of my life has changed for ever, Jane.’ Gabriel gently pushed her hand from his arm and reclaimed his personal space. ‘And I don’t believe that we’ll find each other walking together on that path.’

Jane looked crestfallen, and uncomfortable at the sincerity with which Gabriel had spoken in such a public forum. She appeared to be on the point of apologising to those still in the room, then turned back to Gabriel. ‘Thank you for thinking of me. In the conditions you set.’