Bonfire by Mark Arundel Page B

I reset the phone and then held it out. ‘Jamaal, you can speak now,’ I said.
    To ensure the man on the ground holding his leg was paying attention I gave him a kick. He looked up at me and then looked at the phone as Jamaal’s Arabic voice sounded clear. We all listened.
    When Jamaal had finished we waited expectantly. The bomber remained silent. I pulled out the Glock pistol and pointed it at the man’s face. ‘Jamaal,’ I said, ‘tell him again. Ask him to tell you where your sister is.’ Again, we listened to Jamaal’s Arabic words.
    When the words finished would the man speak? If not would I kill him?
    The man’s eyes remained fixed on the pistol. Jamaal’s voice was the only sound. It stopped. The bomber and I stared at each other. Did he think I was bluffing? It seemed he was going to call me on it, but then he spoke. The words were Arabic and he said them quickly.
    ‘Jamaal, what did he say?’
    ‘He says he will take you to where she is,’ Jamaal said.
    ‘Ask him how far away it is,’ I said. Jamaal spoke and the bomber answered.
    ‘He says it is on the edge of the city in the west.’
    ‘Ask him how many men are guarding her,’ I said. Again, Jamaal spoke and again, the bomber answered.
    ‘He does not know,’ Jamaal said. ‘He thinks no more than five.’
    ‘All right, Jamaal, that’s helped.’
    ‘God is with you, Mr. Hayes,’ Jamaal said.
    ‘I’ll speak to you again when I know something,’ I said and ended the call.
    From the rucksack, I took a length of cord. Cakes watched me. Using the cord, I tied the bomber’s wrists together behind his back. Then with the serrated edge of my combat knife, I cut the bloodstained khakis. The collision with the car’s bumper had caused lacerations and swelling. I ran my thumb and finger along the bone to feel for any breaks. Despite the man flinching, the bone was solid.
    The bomber limped badly as I shoved him back towards the car. He fell onto the backseat and then I pushed shut the door. Cakes still watched me.
    ‘Westwards is the same direction as the copter rendezvous,’ I said. ‘We’ll take a look on the way. Mick, are you okay with this?’ Mick nodded. Cakes still had his eyes on me. ‘If he’s lying or it looks too hard then I’ll kill him and carry on to the rendezvous point,’ I said.
    The compromise was good enough. Cakes nodded his acceptance. ‘Hayes, get in,’ he said. ‘The sooner we get there the better.’
 
    Claudia Casta-Locke sat with her back straight, knees together and the faintest trace of anticipation on her lips. She followed a considered turn of the head with a friendly smile directed at Jerry Lombroso. He smiled back, but it was lopsided and unconvincing.
    ‘Claudia, thank you for coming in on a Saturday morning at such short notice,’ the Chief said. Claudia moved her head and focused on the Chief’s appealing face. Jerry’s head followed her direction.
    ‘You sent a car for me,’ Claudia said.
    ‘Yes, quite so,’ the Chief said.
    ‘How did you know where I was?’
    ‘It was a lucky guess,’ the Chief said. ‘I trust we haven’t inconvenienced you too much.’
    ‘Not at all,’ Claudia said. ‘The evoked curiosity was more than adequate compensation for coffee at the Ritz. I hope it lives up to its billing.’
    ‘We’re in the middle of a live operation and would value your opinion on a troublesome matter that has arisen,’ the Chief explained.
    ‘…a live operation,’ Claudia said. ‘…is it just the two of you?’
    ‘It’s in Libya,’ Jerry said.
    ‘…Libya,’ Claudia echoed. ‘You two have a live operation underway in Libya and you want my help. How black is it?’
    ‘Well…’ Jerry said.
    ‘Does the Foreign Office know about it?’
    ‘Well, not exactly, but…’
    ‘Who does know about it?’ Claudia asked.
    ‘Well, just the two of us and the captain of a naval assault ship in the Med and now you,’ Jerry said. Claudia fought back a laugh. It was better than she