The Protector (23 page)

Stanza was going to need help, that much was obvious. Mallory came to mind and Stanza wondered how much he should confide in his security adviser. To write this story Stanza was going to have to stretch beyond the boundaries he had expected to in Iraq and Mallory and his obsession with security would be more of a hindrance than a help.

But if Stanza got it right the rewards were beyond anything he could reasonably have hoped for. A smile formed on his lips, the first in a long time, as he closed his eyes and saw the hero’s homecoming welcome that he would receive at the office.

8

Forbidden Fruit

Mallory stood at the last checkpoint before the hotel complex, looking with anticipation from his watch to the street beyond the barrier. Tasneen had sounded so happy to meet him for lunch that it had sparked in his imagination all kinds of daydreams about them together. He had even dared to speculate how he could get her out of Iraq and back to England. All this was absurd on many levels, he knew, especially considering how little he really knew her. On top of it all it was highly possible that he was misreading the signs - and the same could be said for her. Ostensibly, the reason for the forthcoming meeting was to discuss the employment of Tasneen’s brother but Mallory’s motives had little to do with the young man’s qualifications for the job.

Abdul’s suitability as a translator was worrying Mallory. Farris and Kareem were going to be annoyed, without doubt.They both had family members looking for employment and would see it as a personal insult that they had not been consulted. Then there was the whole Sunni-Shi’a thing, as well as Abdul’s youth and his disability. Mallory wondered what the two drivers would think if they knew it was all because he wanted to get closer to Abdul’s sister. That would probably freak them out. On the other hand, Mallory wondered why he cared at all since he was effectively quitting his job as soon as he left for Fallujah.

As Mallory looked again, hoping to see Tasneen’s car appear, he saw her walking along the river road towards him. He had specifically told her to drive into the hotel complex, which was why he was waiting at the checkpoint, but the mere sight of her obliterated any criticisms. Her suit accentuated her slim, curvaceous body, while her lustrous dark hair bounced on her shoulders with each step and her face was even more beautiful than he remembered.

He ducked under the barrier and strode past the soldiers towards her. She beamed on seeing him. ‘Where’s your car?’ he called out.

‘I left it in the street,’Tasneen replied as she stopped in front of him. ‘The Iraqi guards would not let me drive it in because I have no pass for this place. I showed them my Green Zone pass but they said this was not the Green Zone.’

Mallory looked in the direction of the outer barrier, considering whether or not to get her car for her.

‘It will be all right,’ she assured him, reading his thoughts.

Mallory’s concerns were, as usual, alien to her. She would have found it bizarre if he’d told her he was worried someone might put a bomb under her vehicle. Security was all about mitigating risk. He decided to walk out with her after lunch and inspect the car before she drove it away. ‘It’s good to see you,’ he said. ‘Do you mind if I tell you that you’re the most beautiful girl I have ever seen?’ It was forward but he didn’t care at that moment.

Tasneen looked away, clearly embarrassed, and then to Mallory’s surprise she quickly recovered to look back at him and hold his gaze.

‘Thanks for coming,’ he said.

‘Thanks for inviting me.’

They moved off side by side.

‘Did you have any trouble getting off work?’ he asked.

‘They’re used to me taking time off for my brother these days. That’s what I told them - but in any case I was not lying, was I?’

Mallory guided her to the women’s pedestrian entrance where a girl was waiting inside a small cubicle to search her. One of the soldiers gave a low whistle of approval, intended for Mallory to hear, as Tasneen exited the cubicle, closing her handbag. Mallory ignored him.

‘It’s so different now,’ Tasneen said as they passed the Abrams tank under its awning beside the flying-carpet sculpture. ‘I haven’t been here since I attended a wedding a couple of years ago. You could drive all the way along the river between the bridges at that time.’

‘Was it a nice city?’

‘It used to be, yes. But I don’t know anything else to compare it to. Maybe you would not have liked it.’

Mallory was not sure how to respond. ‘You don’t wear a headscarf,’ he commented, something he had wanted to ask her about when they’d first met.

‘Iraqi Sunni women are generally less conservative than Shi’a women. Although these days most women in Iraq wear headscarves, since the war at least. I work in the Green Zone so I don’t get much trouble from Iraqi men. I wear one when I go to the market.’

‘Why since the war? I’d have thought you would have felt more liberated - if you’ll excuse the word-play. ’

Tasneen smiled, but with a polite expression of understanding. ‘When there is no law and order the more extreme people have a louder voice,’ she said. ‘A woman must be more careful not to bring attention to herself.’

They walked up the steps to the Sheraton’s entrance past a pair of smartly dressed security personnel who cheerfully bid him welcome. Tasneen avoided their stares as Mallory opened the glass doors and followed her into the foyer.

The restaurant was on the far side of the cavernous lobby beyond the elevators. A waiter greeted them and led them into the dining room. It was a large well-appointed room that gave the illusion of a level of service and cuisine that the current management could not actually provide. Only a handful of the dozen or so tables were occupied, despite the hotel being almost full. Most of the guests, nearly all westerners, opted for some degree of self-catering even if that meant nothing more than sending their staff out to collect food from local restaurants. The hotel food was expensive and monotonous, room service was abysmal and few guests had the time or inclination to eat in the dimly lit formality of the restaurant. But the hotel was still an acceptable place for Tasneen to dine in public with Mallory. Besides, there was nowhere else in the city that was considered safe for a westerner to openly enjoy a meal. The Green Zone was an option - one of the fast-food stalls outside the PX, maybe - but there was a good chance of meeting people either Tasneen or Mallory knew and Mallory wanted to keep their relationship, such as it was, a private affair.

They chose a table in a corner and the waiter left a couple of menus with them before attending to a group of Arab businessmen across the room.

An awkward atmosphere descended on the pair as they sat opposite one another.

‘Would you choose for me?’ Mallory asked. ‘I’ve eaten here a couple of times but I’ve not been very adventurous . . . don’t know the dishes.’

Tasneen flicked through the menu, studying the offerings. ‘How about some lamb?’ she asked.

‘Sounds great,’ he said. Ever since arriving in Iraq he’d eaten lamb kebabs until they were coming out of his ears and he feared the lack of choice was not limited to the hotel. He had not discovered much variety in Iraqi cuisine but he didn’t know if that was because there really wasn’t any or whether current poor supplies limited the choices.

Tasneen looked for the waiter but he appeared to have left the room. ‘Well,’ she said, sighing. ‘It’s nice to be here. Thank you for inviting me.’

‘I’m glad you could come . . . So. Abdul. How is he?

‘He’s fine.’

‘Good.’

‘You still have a job for him?’

‘Of course.’

She smiled. ‘What is it you want him to do, exactly? He can do anything you need, I’m sure - except drive, of course. Although, knowing him, he will be driving before long.’

‘We don’t need a driver. We
do
need a translator and someone who knows the city.’

‘That’s perfect,’ Tasneem said. ‘He speaks English better today than he did last week and he knows the city very well.’

‘Tell me something. It might be a small point - I don’t know, and I’m sorry if it’s the wrong thing to ask but - you’ll forgive an ignorant foreigner, but - well, just to clarify. Abdul being Sunni: how would he feel about working with Shi’a? My two drivers are Shi’a, you see.’

‘That’s not a problem for Abdul. Westerners make a big thing out of the differences between Sunni and Shi’a.They mostly get along just fine. Like everything, it’s the work of a handful of fools that makes life impossible for the rest.’

‘I thought as much . . . just wanted to hear your view.’

‘There’s every religion in Baghdad, you know, even some Jews, though not many of them now, I suppose. Christians live alongside Muslims where I live . . . Have you asked your drivers how they feel?’

‘Not yet. I will. I doubt they’ll have a problem.’ And if they do, Mallory thought, he’d find a way of dealing with it. ‘OK. That’s the interview over with,’ he said, sitting back with a grin.

‘That’s it?’

‘He has the job if he wants it.’

‘You didn’t mention the pay.’

‘Ah. Money.Yes.Would six hundred dollars a month be OK - to start with?’

‘Six hundred,’ she repeated, holding on to her surprise. ‘I think he’d be happy with that.’

‘He would be on probation at first. We have to consider the team.’

‘Of course.You will be pleased with him, I’m very sure of that.’

The waiter arrived and asked Mallory in Arabic for their order. Mallory referred him to Tasneen who rattled off a reply and the waiter left them.

‘I’m very happy, Bernie.’ She was beaming. ‘When do you want him to start?’ This was something to which Mallory had not given much thought, indicating how little he had considered Abdul in this whole affair. ‘When will he be fit for work?’

‘He would like to start right away. He’s well enough.’

Mallory nodded, his expression blank, and Tasneen suspected he was unconvinced. ‘The pain has practically gone from his hand. He hardly ever takes a painkiller now. He needs to get out and do something. This job will be perfect for him and he will work very hard to please you. It will help heal his mind as well as his body.’

‘OK. I’m sold,’ Mallory said. ‘Why don’t you send him over tomorrow morning and we’ll have a talk. He can meet the others and we’ll take it from there.’

‘That sounds perfect.’ She leaned forward, despite no one else being close enough to hear. For one moment Mallory thought she wanted to kiss him and leaned forward himself. ‘You are very kind, Bernie.’

‘You make it easy for me,’ he said, after she stopped what might as well have been a million miles short of kissing him. She did, however, hold his gaze for a few seconds and Mallory began to believe that Tasneen actually reciprocated the feelings he had for her. He had a sudden urge to say something to that effect but stopped himself, worried that it might ruin the moment. But even if he had shouted undying love for her at the top of his voice she would not have heard a word of it. Not at that moment . . .

A massive explosion blew in all the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass windows that made up two sides of the restaurant and the vast hotel building rocked to its very foundations.Walls and ceilings cracked, lights and cornices fell as the stark sounds of crashing and smashing took over from the initial thunderous boom. Mallory was blown off his seat and as he lay on the marble floor his brain fought to grasp what had happened. It felt as if he had been struck by a wall, dust filling his eyes and nostrils as he struggled to get his mind to refocus.

The thought of Tasneen came into Mallory’s head like a detonation and he scrambled to his knees. She was not in her chair and he ducked beneath the table to see her pushing herself up onto her hands and knees. He got to his feet, hurried around the table, grabbed her up and pulled her over to one of several robust pillars supporting the ceiling. His first fear was of structural collapse but as the seconds passed and the building stayed up his next concern was another blast. The hotel had been attacked by rockets or mortars three times since his arrival although none of the previous assaults had been as bad as this.

Tasneen was slightly concussed and did not resist Mallory’s protective grasp, although even had she wanted to she would have been unable since he was holding her so tightly to him.The waiter was standing in the centre of the room as if catatonic, his face bloody, his mouth agape as he looked up at the ceiling. Mallory followed his gaze to see the elaborate central chandelier swaying dangerously. A couple who had been at a table by the windows were on the floor, both of them covered in blood and glass. Mallory thought the explosion was down to a car bomb in the street or a mortar, or a walking suicide bomber just outside the restaurant. There had been rumours for weeks now that a member of staff had smuggled explosives into the hotel, a small amount at a time. But in a city that experienced dozens of explosions a day and where rumours of all kinds abounded the general feeling that one could get caught out anywhere at any time tended to offset such threats. It was all up to God and westerners used the word ‘inshalla’ as much as did the Arabs.

There was a sudden loud whooshing sound as if an aircraft had flown past outside and Mallory held Tasneen even tighter against the pillar. A second later there was a loud boom that sounded close but not close enough to do the hotel any more damage. Mallory decided that it had been a rocket since mortars tended to drop silently or with a whistling sound and, just as he said this loud enough for Tasneen to hear, yet another rocket slammed into the hotel with a force equal to that of the first. A shock wave followed, blasting in through the gap where the window had been and spending its great force against the opposite wall in the restaurant. A wooden dresser was tossed aside, its china contents shattering. Tables blew over and something struck Mallory’s back but without harming him. He pulled Tasneen’s head against his chest and she held on to him tightly as something heavy struck the floor close by. As the shock wave dissipated the sound of automatic gunfire could be heard over the noise of breaking glass and falling debris.

Mallory’s eyes widened as he looked up, his ears straining to gather vital information.Another long burst followed by an answering volley of single shots, indicating that a firefight was taking place. When it came to explosions the best thing to do was get to cover and wait it out. But flying bullets required a different reaction. Another circulating rumour concerned the threat of an assault from the Mardi Army, a Shi’a militia occupying Sada City barely a mile west of the hotel complex. It was generally considered suicide to attempt, bearing in mind the amount of western firepower in and around the hotel but on reflection a suicide attack could not be overlooked. There were thirty or forty US troops stationed in the Sheraton and Palestine hotels plus a hundred or so western PSDs. If the Mardi Army attacked with all its estimated eight-hundred-strong force it would find it costly to take even a section of the grounds and would then find it impossible to hold on to for long. But the rebels were not to be underestimated : they had attacked hotels and coalition camps in the past, beginning the assaults with various explosive devices such as mortars before pressing the attack with infantry. They had failed to penetrate even the perimeters in every case but that had not appeared to deter them.