Deep Black - Andy McNab [23]
‘No, no. Not at all.’ I hoped I sounded more convincing to them than I did to myself. ‘But I do have to go. I was only popping into the gallery for five minutes. I’ll get the Metro, it’s fine.’ I didn’t have a clue where the Metro was, but it didn’t really matter.
Jerry tapped me on the arm. ‘Least I can do is walk you to the station.’
There was no avoiding it: I didn’t want to stand there all day arguing. I said my goodbyes to Renee and we left the flat.
Jerry was all apologetic in the lift. ‘I’m so sorry about that. Things have been pretty vexed with the move . . .’
I nodded, not wanting to get involved. Their domestic stuff didn’t interest me.
‘Renee is right,’ he carried on. ‘I’ve got responsibilities now. I will go and work for the Post.’ He paused, looking slightly sheepish. ‘It’s just that I haven’t quite got around to applying for the job yet. There’s one last thing I’ve got to do before I shoot beauty pageants for the rest of my life.’
I smiled at the thought of him bobbing around at a beauty pageant trying to project a message through the image.
The lift stopped in the lobby. We walked out on to the street and turned left. Jerry seemed to know where he was going. He was looking a bit more relaxed. ‘Listen, Nick. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I really want to thank you for what you did for me in ’ninety-four. I was young, I didn’t have a clue what was going on, it was a total fuck-up. If those Serb fucks—’
I chose my words more carefully this time, to make sure he drew a line under it. ‘I’m just glad that you’re alive and happy, you’ve got a great family and things have worked out all right.’
‘I know it, but still – I’ve got this one last thing to do.’ He had that Jehovah’s Witness look again. ‘In Iraq.’
‘Iraq?’
‘It’s just one final picture. The shot of my life. Remember the guy—’
I found myself going into a rant. ‘How are they going to feel if you wind up with a bullet in the head? Or get it cut off, live online for Renee to watch? You’ve got to be there for them. Believe me, you never know what you’ve got until you lose it.’
I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. ‘For fuck’s sake, Jerry, grow a brain. You’ve got everything. Why risk losing it?’
Jerry looked away. ‘You’re right, man. But this isn’t Bang Bang. This is Korda’s picture of Che Guevara. Hou Bo’s picture of Chairman Mao. The guy bending over “Chetnik Mama” – I want my picture of him on the cover of Time.’
17
I had to speak up to be heard above the roar of the traffic. ‘What’s he doing in Iraq?’
We started to cross at a junction. ‘He’s not there yet – gets into Baghdad this Thursday for about a week. He’s going to give the Iraqis a wake-up call. He’s saying that the Sunni and the Shia need to unite, start controlling their own destiny. Believe me, Nick, this guy’s on his way to being Islam’s answer to Mahatma Gandhi.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Hasan Nuhanovic. He’s a cleric. Even the Serbs were worried about him. He survived the whole Bosnia thing, and he’s still walking on water. But only just – a lot of the “give war a chance” brigade, on both sides, want him dead. He’s very bad for business.’
I shrugged. ‘Still don’t know him.’
‘Exactly!’ Jerry beamed. ‘That’s the whole point. He shuns publicity. He’s not a personality-cult kinda guy. But his message is good, and I really believe that the right kind of picture will get it on to the world stage. You know he went to Pakistan and started a Coke boycott? Thing is, doing stuff like that, he ain’t gonna be breathing for much longer. I gotta be quick. I’ve been trying to track him down in Bosnia, but it would be easier to arrange tea with Karadic. In Baghdad he won’t have so many gatekeepers.’ He gripped my arm. ‘One last job, Nick, that’s all I want to do. Renee’s dead set against it, but it’s not a frontline shot. The picture of Chairman Mao was taken on a beach. Nuhanovic on the banks of the Tigris. No problem, no danger. A walk in the park.’
I wanted to tell him that I knew he was talking bollocks to sell the idea. But I was interested