Payback (37 page)

There were already two ambulances on standby at the racecourse, there to minister to jockeys who became separated from their mounts rather than the victims of gunshot wounds.
Half a dozen others appeared within minutes.

The tally of dead and wounded was depressing, but it could have been a lot worse. Four young Saudi princes were dead, the Kalashnikov rounds fired at such close range having done horrendous
damage to their bodies, and three others had been wounded, but they would probably live.

Two terrorists were dead, and nobody seemed particularly bothered about that. The third was unconscious, though it wasn’t clear if he’d ever come round. Nobody was worried about him,
either.

But three innocent bystanders had been hit by stray bullets, fired by either Richter or Jackson. Although they were in no danger from their wounds, the fact that they’d been shot at all
looked like being the biggest problem of the afternoon.

‘I’m going to have to kick this up a level or two,’ Watkinson warned, ‘and it’s possible you’ll face charges here in Dubai. They take a very dim view of
people carrying firearms, and an even dimmer view of innocent civilians getting wounded.’

‘Oh, magic,’ Jackson muttered. ‘I’ve just remembered what I really like about Arabs – absolutely fucking nothing.’

‘I think it’s called gratitude,’ Richter said, his voice low and angry. ‘If we’d just sat around back at the hotel and left them to it, they’d be looking at a
fucking great hole in the ground where the Millennium Grandstand used to be, and wondering how to explain to the people of Saudi Arabia that most of their royal family would be coming back home in
boxes. Sodding ingrates. I’m going to call Simpson.’

He called Hammersmith on his Enigma phone. ‘I need to give you a SITREP,’ he explained. ‘We’ve got a few problems over here.’ Quickly he outlined what had
happened.

‘You’re sure there aren’t any more of them waiting in the wings clutching Kalashnikovs or packs of Semtex?’

‘No, I’m not sure, but I doubt it. Three men travelled out to Dubai with the horse, and we’ve got two dead terrorists here and one with a really bad headache. Unless some
others came by a different route, I reckon that’s it. And if there are any others, why haven’t they popped out by now, guns blazing?’

‘Right,’ Simpson sounded pleased, ‘a shame some of the local civilian population got mildly ventilated, but overall it’s a good result, and it does close the loop on what
Khatid reported. Anything else?’

‘Yes. According to the local Six officer, we’re quite likely to find ourselves in court on firearms charges. Carole-Anne Jackson is authorized to carry a weapon here in the Gulf, so
she’s fire-proof from that point of view, but I’ve been toting a couple of Browning Hi-Powers all day and I also borrowed an MP5 from a local cop. And both of us fired a whole bunch of
shells at the last bad guy, only some of which hit him.’

Simpson was silent for a moment. ‘I know the way you operate, Richter. When you said “borrowed”, can I assume that the police officer didn’t have too much say in the
matter?’

‘Not a lot, no.’

‘He is alive, though? I mean, you didn’t kill the poor sod just to take his gun off him?’

‘Of course not. He’s just got a bit of a headache.’

‘So the short version is that you were using an unlicensed firearm and a trio of local Dubai residents got wounded when you two took these terrorists down. Which of you shot these
civilians?’

‘We don’t really know. Jackson fired three times, but thinks she only hit the terrorist once. I fired six rounds from the MP5, and I reckon three of those got him. So at least one of
the injured civilians is down to me, but it could have been all of them.’

‘Understood. Right, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.’

Richter ended the call and looked at Watkinson. ‘One of the few good things about working for Richard Simpson is that he always does what he says he’ll do.’

‘And he’s going to sort it out?’

Richter nodded. ‘He’ll sort it out.’

Inspector Saeed Hussein appeared beside them,flanked by three police officers, one of whom conspicuously
wasn’t
armed with a Heckler & Koch MP5.

‘Here,’ Richter said. He unslung the weapon, removed the magazine and ejected the loaded round from the breech. He passed the sub-machine-gun and magazine to the officer, who took
them in a somewhat shamefaced manner.

‘We owe you our thanks,’ Hussein began. ‘If you hadn’t guessed what was happening, this could have been a total disaster.’

‘I’m glad we could help stop it,’ Richter said. ‘So what now?’

Hussein looked slightly embarrassed. ‘I’m afraid I must ask both of you not to leave Dubai until further notice. My superiors have issued specific instructions to me, and there may
be certain legal repercussions as a result of the events of this afternoon.’

‘I think, Inspector,’ Watkinson said, ‘that your superiors may be getting a call quite soon that should clarify the situation.’

British Embassy, Dubai

An hour later they were back in the British Embassy at Al-Seef Road, where Richter handed back the two Browning pistols, and the silenced Hi-Power that he’d taken
off the terrorist. ‘Call it a souvenir, Michael,’ he said.

‘What are you going to do now?’ Watkinson asked.

‘Neither of us can leave Dubai, at least for a while, so I guess we’ll just take in some of the sights. If you need me, you’ve got my mobile number. Whatever happens, I’m
going to stay out here for a few days and take it easy. I think Simpson owes me that much.’

Nad Al-Sheba Racecourse, Dubai

The last casualty on the list of priorities for the ambulance crews was the sole surviving terrorist, who still lay unconscious under the grandstand.

Inspector Hussein led two of his men into the void, accompanied by a police photographer who’d been summoned to take pictures of the explosive charges before they were removed. Only after
that had been completed did he allow the paramedics and mortuary staff into the building to remove the unconscious Saadi and the remains of Bashar.

He’d already received detailed instructions from an angry superior officer about the disposal of the bodies of the two dead terrorists. Both would be taken out into the desert that same
evening, where a digger was already en route, and would be dumped without ceremony at the bottom of a substantial hole, into which would also be slung the carcasses of two large pigs. The pit would
then be filled in and left unmarked.

In the meantime, the unconscious man was to be taken to the Al-Wasl Hospital on Oud Metha Road in Bur Dubai for emergency treatment. If he survived his injury, special plans had also been made
for him.

Al-Khaleej Hotel, Dubai

Responding to a call for ‘Grant Hutchings’, Dawson took the lift down to the lobby, where Hussein was waiting for him, a smile on his face.

‘I have some good news for us both, Agent Hutchings. Have you heard what happened this evening at the Nad Al-Sheba racecourse?’ When the American shook his head, he continued.
‘Let me buy you a drink and I’ll explain.’

The inspector outlined the events that had taken place. ‘We were very lucky that the Englishman, Richter, worked out what was happening,’ he said, and went on to describe how James
Holden had featured in the scenario.

Edward Dawson’s expression remained composed as he listened, but his brain was reeling from the almost unbelievable story he was hearing. An Arab terrorist group planning an attack right
here in Dubai? And that blond-haired English bastard had somehow worked out the real reason behind the incidents they’d orchestrated in Syria and Bahrain. In fact, he’d made the right
deduction, but he hadn’t made the right connection.

‘What happened to the terrorists?’ Dawson asked. He was very aware that, if they’d survived and were questioned – most Arab countries used interrogators who were
very
good at extracting information – they would know nothing at all about either the Damascus
shahid
or the Manama car-bomb. That would blow Richter’s theory right out of
the water, and could lead to more investigations as the authorities tried to work out exactly who Holden
had
been working with. But if the terrorists hadn’t survived, their lack of
knowledge would have died with them.

‘Two of them were killed,’ Hussein replied. ‘The third is still unconscious, but he’ll survive – for a while at least. Once he’s fit to travel, he’ll be
taken to Saudi Arabia for trial, since his target was the Saudi royal family. The proceedings won’t take long.’

That sounded convenient. From what Dawson knew of Saudi justice, the surviving terrorist’s fate would be predictable and his punishment swift and brutal.

‘Were there any other casualties?’

‘Unfortunately, yes. The last terrorist opened fire at close range with an assault rifle. Four Saudi princes were killed and three injured. Richter then shot and killed the terrorist, but
three bystanders were also injured.’

Dawson nodded. It sounded as if Richter was both resourceful and competent, and he wondered if O’Hagan would suggest taking him out. On the other hand, they were now only about thirty-six
hours away from achieving their objective, and it probably made sense not to do anything that might draw attention to them.

‘So, Agent Hutchings, now we know the real target was the House of Saud, we can relax. There never was a threat to a hotel here in Dubai. That part of Holden’s story was just
intended to divert our attention. My superiors have specifically asked me to thank you for your time and trouble, but now that the threat has been neutralized, we no longer feel your presence here
is necessary.’

Dawson sat in silence for a few seconds, his mind working overtime. This was a sting in the tail he hadn’t anticipated. They
had
to get themselves into the Burj Al-Arab on
Monday.

He cracked his face into a smile. ‘That’s excellent news, Inspector. It’ll be good to get back home again, but we can’t leave Dubai just yet. You may remember that we had
a problem with the Gulfstream on our way out here?’ Hussein nodded. ‘Well, the aircraft still needs to be checked out thoroughly, so we won’t be able to leave until Tuesday at the
earliest. And we still need to show your officers how to use the explosive detectors, so why don’t we go ahead with the demonstrations on Monday as we’d planned? It’ll only take a
couple of hours.’

For a moment Hussein didn’t respond, then nodded. ‘I’d forgotten that we’d arranged that. I’ll check with my superiors, but I don’t think there’ll be a
problem.’

Crowne Plaza Hotel, Dubai

They lay side-by-side in the double bed in Richter’s suite, their nakedness covered by a thin sheet, the air-conditioning humming softly in the background.

‘What do you want to do for what’s left of the evening?’ he asked.

‘Not a lot,’ Carole-Anne replied. ‘This has been, by any standards, a very full day. Between us we’ve prevented a bunch of the Saudi royals from being vaporized, shot two
terrorists and been threatened with legal action for accidentally shooting a handful of bystanders. Absolutely anything else we do will
have
to be an anticlimax.’

‘Dinner in bed, then?’

‘No,’ she said firmly, scooping up the hotel guide book from the bedside cabinet. ‘Let’s hit one of the restaurants here. Al-Dana? Or what about Sakura? Do you like
Japanese food?’

Richter shook his head. ‘No. I prefer whatever I eat to have at least stopped moving before it reaches my plate. Al-Dana or the Western Steakhouse will do for me. I could eat a
steak,’ he added hopefully. ‘And what about tomorrow?’

‘More of the same, with any luck. We can take a cab and drive around, do some sightseeing, I suppose. Have you had a chance to see the Burj Al-Arab yet?’

‘Only in pictures,’ he sighed. ‘OK, I wouldn’t mind doing the tourist bit for a while. It’ll make a change from being shot at.’

‘That’s a deal,’ Jackson said. ‘Now get dressed, take me downstairs and feed me.’

Al-Khaleej Hotel, Dubai

The moment Hussein stepped into his police car, Dawson crossed to the reception desk, picked up the house phone and called O’Hagan’s room.

‘Bring the others and meet me in the coffee shop,’ he ordered. Then he walked outside, pulled out his mobile and punched in a number.

‘Roy,’ he said, when the pilot answered, ‘it’s Agent Hutchings. I’m calling about that fault on the Gulf-stream we discussed earlier. I’ve told Inspector
Hussein we can’t leave Dubai until Tuesday morning at the earliest. Is that forecast still correct?’

Sutter immediately grasped the hidden message being relayed to him. ‘Yes. I can’t do anything tomorrow, obviously, and I’ll have to run some more checks on Monday, but if I
don’t hit any other problems the bird should be ready to fly by Tuesday.’

‘Good,’ Dawson replied. ‘Just keep me informed.’

A few minutes later, in the coffee shop, Dawson outlined what Hussein had told him.

‘So Holden was actually working for this bunch of Arab terrorists,’ O’Hagan said with a smile. ‘That’s certainly news to me.’

‘Me, too,’ Dawson said. ‘Anyway, the Dubai cops don’t think there’s now a credible threat to any local hotel, so we won’t have to carry out the checks we
planned. We’ll just do a demonstration of the detectors, then head for home. The cars will be here at nine on Monday morning.’

Monday
Al-Khaleej Hotel, Dubai

Two Dubai police cars drew up outside the hotel, the inspector seated in the leading vehicle. The four Americans were waiting for him in the lobby, several bags piled beside
them.

‘Now I see why you needed two cars,’ Hussein remarked. ‘Are these detectors very big?’

‘No,’ Dawson replied, ‘they’re hand-held units, but the other bags contain batteries, chargers, calibration equipment, test gear and spares. It’s a real
comprehensive outfit.’

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Hussein said, turning in his seat as they drove away, ‘but I have to make a small detour on the way to Jumeirah Beach. It’s not very far
out of our way – just down Shaikh Zayed Road.’