else than this? ‘I simply happen to believe in democracy – and in my book, that means the truth. I’ll leave the ugly politics and the scheming to the likes of you.’
He turned on her again. ‘You just don’t get it do you? It’s only a game to you guys. You breeze in here, report any old stuff like it’s the definitive version of events, then you’re gone. It’s the likes of me who has to pick up the pieces, try and repair the damage.’
‘Damage! That’s a laugh. It wasn’t the media who shot this poor mother’s son. I saw it, I recorded it, it’s what damn-well happened – with or without your permission.’
He slumped into the seat beside her.
‘Anyway, I’m going home.’
‘What? But you haven’t finished.’
‘I’ve had enough, ten days, it’ll have to do. I’ll email you the picture file when I get back to my room.’
She got up to leave. He reached out and held her arm. His voice was lower, almost a whisper, a hint of pleading.
‘You’ll be letting me down. This is really important.’ His tone was no longer combative. ‘Listen, let’s talk again in the morning after you’ve slept on it – okay?’
He watched her leave the room, his eyes returning to Alex’s picture. Studying it, he was drawn to the blood on the mother’s hands, the last traces of her only son’s life. He felt his face flush and, for a second, a lump rose in his throat.
* * *
Kowolski beamed a wide smile as Alex approached his breakfast table, standing up and pulling out a chair. He couldn’t help but notice the dark shadows under her eyes as if she’d hardly slept.
‘Coffee?’
She nodded, grim-faced.
‘I have to admit, I was all set to twist your arm about staying – until I saw the portfolio of photographs you sent me. They’re fantastic, really good work.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, a little brighter. ‘I could have stayed another two weeks and not really improved on anything.’
‘So you’re going home?’
‘Yep,’ she said resignedly.
‘Listen,’ he said, lowering his voice a notch, looking around him. ‘Personally, I don’t blame you. I never figured things would be this bad out here – but I’ve taken on the job so I’ll have to see it through.’
Kowolski’s admission and his conciliatory nature caught her unawares. She’d been expecting another row; a scene; people staring.
In reality, he felt relatively relaxed about Alex’s picture of the shooting incident. None of the major US papers had used it. The newspapers were full of the President’s speech, simply lapping up the ‘mission accomplished’ line, devoting pages to the occasion.
Tossing a packet on the table, he leant back in his chair. ‘Three weeks’ work in cash – and there’s more.’
‘But I…’
He raised his hand, halting her. ‘I’ll need some of your pictures blown up big, real big. You work with a good lab?’
Alex nodded, twisting the package in her hands.
Kowolski pointed to it. ‘If you did find you needed to come back here, there’s a ticket in there to Kuwait and a pass that will get you on to any military aircraft coming up this way.’
She managed a half-smile. ‘Sorry, but I very much doubt I’ll have reason to set foot in Iraq ever again.’
But she couldn’t have been more wrong.
9
Alex had the rest of the day to say her farewells, Kowolski having bagged her a ride to Kuwait on a C5 cargo plane that was leaving late afternoon. She wanted to visit Aban and Farrah al-Tikriti but they said they had no electricity. Instead, she invited them to the Palestine.
The couple greeted Alex like old friends.
‘I have an interview this afternoon with the Coalition Provisional Authority,’ Aban beamed.
‘That’s great news, Aban,’ Alex said, ordering coffee. ‘I’m sure you can help the country’s recovery. And how is everything else?’
Aban paused until the waiter was out of earshot. ‘There is great unrest in the community. We have no
He turned on her again. ‘You just don’t get it do you? It’s only a game to you guys. You breeze in here, report any old stuff like it’s the definitive version of events, then you’re gone. It’s the likes of me who has to pick up the pieces, try and repair the damage.’
‘Damage! That’s a laugh. It wasn’t the media who shot this poor mother’s son. I saw it, I recorded it, it’s what damn-well happened – with or without your permission.’
He slumped into the seat beside her.
‘Anyway, I’m going home.’
‘What? But you haven’t finished.’
‘I’ve had enough, ten days, it’ll have to do. I’ll email you the picture file when I get back to my room.’
She got up to leave. He reached out and held her arm. His voice was lower, almost a whisper, a hint of pleading.
‘You’ll be letting me down. This is really important.’ His tone was no longer combative. ‘Listen, let’s talk again in the morning after you’ve slept on it – okay?’
He watched her leave the room, his eyes returning to Alex’s picture. Studying it, he was drawn to the blood on the mother’s hands, the last traces of her only son’s life. He felt his face flush and, for a second, a lump rose in his throat.
* * *
Kowolski beamed a wide smile as Alex approached his breakfast table, standing up and pulling out a chair. He couldn’t help but notice the dark shadows under her eyes as if she’d hardly slept.
‘Coffee?’
She nodded, grim-faced.
‘I have to admit, I was all set to twist your arm about staying – until I saw the portfolio of photographs you sent me. They’re fantastic, really good work.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, a little brighter. ‘I could have stayed another two weeks and not really improved on anything.’
‘So you’re going home?’
‘Yep,’ she said resignedly.
‘Listen,’ he said, lowering his voice a notch, looking around him. ‘Personally, I don’t blame you. I never figured things would be this bad out here – but I’ve taken on the job so I’ll have to see it through.’
Kowolski’s admission and his conciliatory nature caught her unawares. She’d been expecting another row; a scene; people staring.
In reality, he felt relatively relaxed about Alex’s picture of the shooting incident. None of the major US papers had used it. The newspapers were full of the President’s speech, simply lapping up the ‘mission accomplished’ line, devoting pages to the occasion.
Tossing a packet on the table, he leant back in his chair. ‘Three weeks’ work in cash – and there’s more.’
‘But I…’
He raised his hand, halting her. ‘I’ll need some of your pictures blown up big, real big. You work with a good lab?’
Alex nodded, twisting the package in her hands.
Kowolski pointed to it. ‘If you did find you needed to come back here, there’s a ticket in there to Kuwait and a pass that will get you on to any military aircraft coming up this way.’
She managed a half-smile. ‘Sorry, but I very much doubt I’ll have reason to set foot in Iraq ever again.’
But she couldn’t have been more wrong.
9
Alex had the rest of the day to say her farewells, Kowolski having bagged her a ride to Kuwait on a C5 cargo plane that was leaving late afternoon. She wanted to visit Aban and Farrah al-Tikriti but they said they had no electricity. Instead, she invited them to the Palestine.
The couple greeted Alex like old friends.
‘I have an interview this afternoon with the Coalition Provisional Authority,’ Aban beamed.
‘That’s great news, Aban,’ Alex said, ordering coffee. ‘I’m sure you can help the country’s recovery. And how is everything else?’
Aban paused until the waiter was out of earshot. ‘There is great unrest in the community. We have no
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