Deep Black - Andy McNab [79]
59
Rob powered down his window and gave her two 250-dinar notes, about a dollar twenty. Light streamed into the car through the haze of the bug-stained windscreen. The sun was getting lower and would be dropping behind the building any minute. The air-conditioner worked overtime as we all started to get sticky.
‘What Mr Nuhanovic is trying to encourage people to do, Nick, is to retake control of their own destinies from those who think they have the right to dictate to other cultures.’
People were getting really pissed off now. The noise was almost deafening. At last the traffic crawled forward. ‘You mean America?’
He turned back to the girl and waved gently at her as we inched past. ‘In my country’s case, not only the US. All the countries of former Soviet Central Asia and the Caspian have to sleep with the elephant.’
It was a good way of describing the Russian Federation. I’d try to remember that one.
The girl disappeared behind us as Rob cut up a few vehicles to keep moving.
‘Already the elephant’s dislike for unity lies behind Moscow’s threats to launch bombing raids into northern Georgia, they say to pursue Islamic rebels.’
We took a sharp right down a side street, then started to take continuous right-hand turns. It was nearly dark, but Rob didn’t have his lights on. I looked at him in the rear-view. ‘Anything to be worried about?’
His eyes flicked rapidly from screen to mirror. ‘Nah. Just seeing if anyone’s on our arse. The guys we’re on our way to see are a bit jumpy about having a meeting with whites in Sadr.’
‘Sadr?’
‘Yep. The Americans don’t go there much – too risky. Makes it safer for us. But no one knows Benzil is Jewish, so keep it low, OK?’
We were heading for Shia world. Sadr City was its real name, but for years it’s been called Saddam City.
Benzil wasn’t worried at all. ‘By 2050 our region will be the biggest oil-producer on the planet. And because of that we will feel American influence even more acutely. It’s not just the military bases: it’s the cultural intrusion.
‘At the moment, our Muslim militancy is being stoked up deliberately so that the West has a reason to be there to protect what they consider to be their oil and gas resources. Maybe Mr Nuhanovic can work his magic, and then everybody will benefit from the oil wealth. Not just the Americans and the West, but everybody.
‘It’s a long-term plan, and to make it work we need to keep Nuhanovic alive. My plan is to persuade him to come to Uzbekistan, where he can be safe with me while he develops his message using my country. Once people understand they have power in unity and power in their pockets, it will not have to worry about its government, America, the elephant, or even our neighbours.’
The road led us to the outskirts of Sadr. A line of dead T52 tanks, their barrels drooping to the ground and being used as washing-lines, had become slum housing. The scorch-marked hulls had been painted red, yellow and pink, and flowers stuck out of pots where the fuel tanks had been. Women cooked from fires built over the engine grilles, and kids kicked footballs against what was left of the track wheels.
‘We can stop the tension in the regions as the oil cash flows in. The West will have no reason to station troops there, and we can get on with our lives. Does that make sense to you, Nick?’
It did, but I knew there was more to come. He hadn’t talked about how I fitted in yet.
‘Where are we going now? To see him?’
He gave a gentle laugh and pushed his gigs further up his nose. ‘Unfortunately not. I know people who have had contact with him, and have been trying to impress on them that I need to see him. He knows I’m here. I have had indirect contact with him in Bosnia for nearly two years, through one of his intermediaries in Sarajevo. Is that not so, Robert?’
‘Nuhanovic is testing Benzil’s commitment, Nick. In Bosnia, he only deals through a guy called Ramzi Salkic. You remember that big old mosque in the Turkish area? You know, Gazzer something?’
I nodded but, like him, I couldn’t remember the