Deep Black - Andy McNab [127]
He put his glass down, but his eyes never left mine. Was it true? Was I here to kill him? If I looked away, I knew his suspicions would be confirmed. ‘But let us eat and talk a while. I’m sure you’re hungry, after your long and eventful journey.’
His head tilted gently to one side. ‘And you, Jerry . . . Why is it that you wish to take my picture?’
Jerry looked straight at him as well. ‘To help me, and to help you. To help me win a Pulitzer, and help you get on the front cover of Time magazine. I thought maybe you’d like that.’ He sounded as if he was talking to royalty.
Nuhanovic arched an eyebrow. ‘In what way?’
Jerry smiled wearily. ‘I haven’t got my camera any more, so it’s academic.’
The side door opened and two men came in carrying a selection of bowls, which they laid out on the tray between us. I caught a glimpse of two others standing outside with AKs, paying a lot more attention to us than to what was happening in the kitchen. No way were we going to be able to hit-and-run this man.
The bowls contained hot rice, raisins, meat, chopped onions, and enough pitta bread for an invading army. Forks were offered, but we refused politely.
As the door closed again, Nuhanovic gestured for us to eat. I ripped off a piece of pitta with my right hand and used it as a scoop to get among the meat juices. No doubt the two AK boys were now standing with their faces against the grille, just in case I tried to jam it down his throat and choke him with it.
The door opened and the waiters were back with glasses of orange juice and a brass washing bowl, jug and hand towels for later on. The AK boys hadn’t budged an inch.
The door closed again.
‘Hasan?’
He looked up and smiled, and I hoped my chin wasn’t dripping gravy. ‘What concerns me is that we might be the ones getting killed, because we know where you are.’
He glanced at the door and treated us to the full smile this time.
‘They’re simply for my protection. I do not kill people.’ He took a sip of his coffee. ‘Besides, you knew how to get here, and yet you have made no attempt to compromise me. I am happy for us to trust each other.’
He smiled again, but held our gaze for that extra second before continuing. ‘When we have spoken about certain things, you will be taken back to Sarajevo.’
He put a piece of bread into his mouth and handed Jerry the paper bag. ‘Jerry, I agree with you. I think being on the cover of Time would help me in my work.’
Jerry glanced inside and pulled out two cardboard and plastic disposable cameras, the sort you see waved about on hen nights.
It was as if a switch had been thrown. Suddenly Jerry was in Pulitzer mode. ‘There’s not enough light in here. Can we improve it?’
Nuhanovic nodded slowly, looking towards the decorative grille. ‘I’m sure we can.’
Jerry ripped the cellophane wrapper from the first camera as he checked out the room for light angles or whatever photographers do.
Nuhanovic carried on eating, but I felt his eyes boring into me. The door opened and the two guys came in again, another oil lamp in each hand. Jerry showed them exactly where he wanted them, then adjusted them an inch or two for perfection as the boys chucked some more wood on the fire and left. The AK boys still stared at us from the other side of the door.
Jerry wound the first exposure into place. ‘Mind if I move around, try some angles?’
Nuhanovic didn’t look up, just nodded and finished chewing. Then, as Jerry began to fine-tune the lamp positions yet again and busy himself with even more photography stuff, he leaned towards me, his elbows on his thighs. ‘Nick, I, too, want to talk about what happened in the cement factory. But first, please tell me, why were you there? And what exactly did you see?’
94
Flashlight bounced around the room as I told him everything, apart from the real reason I’d been there. Instead he got the camera-kit-stolen-and-had-to-hide-when-I-saw-the-trucks-coming