Deep Black - Andy McNab [66]
‘So . . .’ He paused, looked at Jerry, then back at me ‘. . . both of you are to leave Iraq today. I don’t care how you do it, but go. Be advised: if you fail to do so, the consequences of your actions could be fatal. It’s a real bad world out there. Upon this subject, gentlemen,’ he focused on Jerry for this one, ‘I do not jest.’ He levelled a finger at Jerry. ‘Understand?’
‘Oh, I understand. Sex trafficking’s a sensitive issue, especially after the shit hitting the fan in Bosnia last year. You remember, Nick – US executives buying underage girls for playthings. Some of the fat fucks even got involved with selling them on as part of a deal. No one got prosecuted, just big payoffs to keep everyone quiet. The same corporation’s now been awarded contracts here in Iraq?’
I didn’t know what he was on about, but it must have been true. The two remfs didn’t say a word.
‘I’m right, aren’t I? Well, fuck you.’
This wasn’t the best way to the bank manager’s heart.
‘We’ll go north.’ I didn’t just say it, I shouted it, so loud a couple of the guys by the door reacted and moved closer. ‘We’ll go north,’ I shouted again. ‘We’ll drive to Turkey today.’
‘Thank you, Nick. Jeral, please . . .’ The Texan pointed at Jerry’s wedding ring. ‘It seems you have people back home who care for you. Think about that. I’m trying to get you both out of a dangerous situation that, quite frankly, is of your own making.’
They both stood up. I kept my eyes down and watched four very clean and unscuffed boots until they disappeared behind me.
48
As he cut through my plasticuffs with a pair of scissors, the guy I’d shared a smile with spoke to the back of my head. ‘You got a ride waiting.’
Rubbing our wrists, Jerry and I were escorted out into a palatial corridor. We walked past carved stone columns, under vaulted ceilings and fluted domes. If the arches hadn’t been sealed off with plywood to make office space, and the walls and marble floors hadn’t been covered by miles of metallic grey duct tape, wires and cables, I’d have expected Louis the Fifteenth to appear at any moment.
We approached a large pair of double doors next to a ping-pong table. Two soldiers jumped up from the ornate chairs they’d been sitting in and opened them wide.
We stepped out into the sun. I had to squint to protect my eyes. Heat bounced off the top of my head. With a soldier either side of each of us, we were guided to a Hummer and ushered into the back. This wasn’t one of the MP vehicles. It belonged to Captain D. Frankenmeyer. His name was stencilled on the right-hand side of the windscreen, as if it was a jazzed-up P-reg Ford Escort. Our kit was already inside. I checked my bumbag. My passport was safe. The rest of it didn’t matter, but I was happy to find the three thousand-odd dollars in twenties and smaller.
The soldier behind the wheel wasn’t wearing body armour and his helmet rested on the steel hump between the front seats. There was another helmet on the spare front seat, with two rank bars. The captain it belonged to jumped in and threw on his Oakleys. As he slammed the door, I saw the very long nametag on his breast pocket. It was the Hummer’s owner.
The driver threw the engine into gear and we set off past the Smiley face. Frankenmeyer swivelled round to face us. ‘Kinda cool, ain’t it?’ If he’d been a few years younger, Frankenmeyer could have come straight from playing college football. Big shoulders, toned body, white teeth, golden tan: he should have been in films. I smiled back at him – or, rather, at the reflection of myself in his mirrored lenses. There was no point in being surly. These boys were just doing the best they could.
He pointed up at Smiley. ‘You know what? We got fifteen of them painted around town before we had to pull them down. What you guys do to get people so pissed?’
Jerry