Deep Black - Andy McNab [99]
The phone rang and Jerry answered. The food was on its way.
I checked the spyhole and saw the waiter leaning over the trolley. No Goatee. I opened up. He came and laid everything out on the table, took the two-euro tip I offered him, and left.
We tucked into our Sarajevo burgers and chip butties, downed the Cokes, and went back to watching TV. Our favourite channel ran out of steam after midnight, and we lay on our beds reading. Jerry had a Herald Tribune he’d bought at the airport in Vienna. I just scanned the label on the back of my Coke can a few hundred times.
We put the lights out at about one in the morning but Jerry carried on channel-surfing. We watched Baghdad and Fallujah getting the good news from a few RPGs and a handful of suicide bombers on BBC World, then moved on to a German news quiz. I scored one point for recognizing David Hasselhoff in the picture round.
There was a gentle knock on the door. In the glow of the TV screen, Jerry and I exchanged a glance. Too late for room service to be collecting the dirties.
He turned the sound down with the remote, we both sat up and I hit the bedside light. His eyes were bouncing between me and the door, trying to see through it. He bit his lip. There was another knock, a little louder this time.
I got to my feet, checking my bumbag to make sure it was secure round my waist. Jerry started to get his on as well.
Through the spyhole, I could see a couple of new, serious-looking faces dressed by World of Leather. Their heads were close enough to kiss the lens.
I glanced back at Jerry. He stood there, checking the zip on his bumbag one last time before nodding a ‘ready’.
I hoped he was right: I suddenly had the feeling that he’d be better off strapping on some body armour and making ready a decent-sized assault rifle. Just because these were new faces, it didn’t mean they belonged to Nuhanovic.
There was only one way to find out. I slipped off the chain and turned the handle.
I took a couple of quick steps back into the room, then turned and tensed, ready to take the hit. The horror on Jerry’s face was plain to see. He fell back on to the bed and curled up in a ball.
I closed my eyes, clenched my teeth, and waited.
76
Nothing happened. I sensed rather than heard somebody walking into the room.
Then I heard a voice like a 1950s BBC newsreader. ‘It’s all right, Nick, it’s me.’
I spun round and opened my eyes. The leather boys had stayed outside in the corridor, but Benzil was right there in front of me. His face was badly scabbed. It looked as if the slightest glimmer of a smile would crack the scabs and restart the bleeding.
He was wearing a black overcoat over a white shirt that was undone at the collar, and a white crew-neck vest. ‘It is not the first time enemies of Mr Nuhanovic have tried to kill me, and I hope it will not be the last time they fail to do so. Robert’s death, however, is a terrible price to pay.’
‘I heard them firing into the wagon.’
He lifted his hands to the sky. ‘That might have been them shooting at a very fast-moving target. By the grace of God, I got out of the car quickly and into a house. The people were very kind. It was so sudden – our security is always so tight. I believed you were our only link with the outside world, but Robert vouched for you – and, of course, you would hardly have wanted to ambush yourself.’
‘No, no idea.’
I heard Jerry rolling off the bed behind me. Benzil’s eyes moved over my shoulder. Jerry muttered, ‘Hi.’
Benzil nodded. ‘Jerry?’
‘Yes.’
Benzil had more urgent things on his mind. ‘We have to move quickly. Mr Nuhanovic wants to meet us both. The gentlemen outside are going to take us.’
‘They with Salkic?’
‘Yes. I just missed you at the mosque, but I