call. ‘Jenny?’
‘Andy?’ she replied. The signal was astonishingly clear. ‘Oh God. Are you all right over there?’
Andy was tempted to reply with some dry humourless sarcasm; after all, the last time they’d spoken, as he’d packed his bags preparing to leave for this particular job five days ago, it had been somewhat less than cordial.
‘I’m okay.’
‘I was worried. They’re saying on the news that the whole of the Middle East is in a right mess.’
‘What the hell’s going on, Jenny? What do you know?’
‘I don’t know, it seems like things are happening everywhere. There’ve been bombs and explosions in . . . in central Asia somewhere. ’
‘Georgia, near the Tengiz fields?’
‘Yes, that’s right. They mentioned that place on the news . . . Tengiz. They’re talking about oil shortages, Andy. Just like . . . you know, just like—’
‘Yes,’ he finished for her, ‘I know.’
‘And then this morning there was one of those huge oil-tankers blown up in—’
‘The Straits of Hormuz?’
‘Yes. You heard about it? Apparently it’s blocked off the Straits to all the ships that had oil and could have delivered it.’
Andy felt something ice-cold run down his spine. ‘Yes . . . yes, I heard that from somewhere.’
The Tengiz refineries hit, Hormuz blocked, pan-Arabian unrest triggered by an attack on something like the Ka’bah - all these events within twenty-four hours of each other. Exactly as described.
‘Andy, I’m scared. The trains aren’t running. They’ve stopped the trains, and there’s going to be some big announcement made by the Prime Minister. The radio, the TV . . . they’re all talking about problems right across the world.’
The only edge Jenny and the kids had right now over most of the other people around them was the few hours’ advance warning he could give her. She had to sort herself out right now.
‘Jenny, listen to me. If they announce the sort of measures I think they might at lunchtime, the shops will be stripped bare within hours. It’s going to be fucking bedlam. You’ve got to get the kids home, and go and buy in as much food—’
‘I can’t! I’m stuck up in Manchester.’
Damn! He remembered she’d arranged some bloody job interview up there. Part of her whole screw-you-I-can-do-just-fine-on-my-own strategy.
‘Is there no way you can get home?’ he asked.
‘No. No trains, no coaches. It looks like they’ve stopped everything.’
‘Then get Leona to make her way down from Norwich, pick up Jake, take him home and buy in as much as she can!’
A pause.
‘Jenny,’ continued Andy, ‘she won’t listen to me. I spoke to her yesterday. I think she thinks I’m just being an over-anxious wimp or something. She’ll listen to you. After all, you were always the big sceptic.’
He heard laboured breathing on the end of the phone; Jenny was crying. ‘Yes, yes okay. Oh God, this is serious isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I think it will be. But listen, you need to do this now. Do you understand? Don’t take “no” for an answer from her.’
She can be so bloody wilful and stubborn.
‘Of course I won’t,’ she replied, her voice faltering.
‘And then you’ve got to find a way to get down to London to be with them,’ Andy added.
‘I know . . . I know.’
‘Any way you can, and as quickly as possible.’
Jenny didn’t respond, but he could hear her there, on the end of the line.
‘Andy,’ she said eventually, ‘this is really it, isn’t it - you know . . . what you’ve been—’
‘Please, Jenny. Just get our kids safely home,’ he replied.
CHAPTER 18
11.18 a.m. local time Al-Bayji, Iraq
Sergeant Bolton joined Private Tajican standing on the stack of pallets and keeping a watch on events outside in the street.
‘What is it?’ he asked the Fijian.
‘Movement, Sergeant. Something going on.’
Bolton looked up at the soldier who dwarfed him both in height and width. Tajican pointed towards some activity
‘Andy?’ she replied. The signal was astonishingly clear. ‘Oh God. Are you all right over there?’
Andy was tempted to reply with some dry humourless sarcasm; after all, the last time they’d spoken, as he’d packed his bags preparing to leave for this particular job five days ago, it had been somewhat less than cordial.
‘I’m okay.’
‘I was worried. They’re saying on the news that the whole of the Middle East is in a right mess.’
‘What the hell’s going on, Jenny? What do you know?’
‘I don’t know, it seems like things are happening everywhere. There’ve been bombs and explosions in . . . in central Asia somewhere. ’
‘Georgia, near the Tengiz fields?’
‘Yes, that’s right. They mentioned that place on the news . . . Tengiz. They’re talking about oil shortages, Andy. Just like . . . you know, just like—’
‘Yes,’ he finished for her, ‘I know.’
‘And then this morning there was one of those huge oil-tankers blown up in—’
‘The Straits of Hormuz?’
‘Yes. You heard about it? Apparently it’s blocked off the Straits to all the ships that had oil and could have delivered it.’
Andy felt something ice-cold run down his spine. ‘Yes . . . yes, I heard that from somewhere.’
The Tengiz refineries hit, Hormuz blocked, pan-Arabian unrest triggered by an attack on something like the Ka’bah - all these events within twenty-four hours of each other. Exactly as described.
‘Andy, I’m scared. The trains aren’t running. They’ve stopped the trains, and there’s going to be some big announcement made by the Prime Minister. The radio, the TV . . . they’re all talking about problems right across the world.’
The only edge Jenny and the kids had right now over most of the other people around them was the few hours’ advance warning he could give her. She had to sort herself out right now.
‘Jenny, listen to me. If they announce the sort of measures I think they might at lunchtime, the shops will be stripped bare within hours. It’s going to be fucking bedlam. You’ve got to get the kids home, and go and buy in as much food—’
‘I can’t! I’m stuck up in Manchester.’
Damn! He remembered she’d arranged some bloody job interview up there. Part of her whole screw-you-I-can-do-just-fine-on-my-own strategy.
‘Is there no way you can get home?’ he asked.
‘No. No trains, no coaches. It looks like they’ve stopped everything.’
‘Then get Leona to make her way down from Norwich, pick up Jake, take him home and buy in as much as she can!’
A pause.
‘Jenny,’ continued Andy, ‘she won’t listen to me. I spoke to her yesterday. I think she thinks I’m just being an over-anxious wimp or something. She’ll listen to you. After all, you were always the big sceptic.’
He heard laboured breathing on the end of the phone; Jenny was crying. ‘Yes, yes okay. Oh God, this is serious isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I think it will be. But listen, you need to do this now. Do you understand? Don’t take “no” for an answer from her.’
She can be so bloody wilful and stubborn.
‘Of course I won’t,’ she replied, her voice faltering.
‘And then you’ve got to find a way to get down to London to be with them,’ Andy added.
‘I know . . . I know.’
‘Any way you can, and as quickly as possible.’
Jenny didn’t respond, but he could hear her there, on the end of the line.
‘Andy,’ she said eventually, ‘this is really it, isn’t it - you know . . . what you’ve been—’
‘Please, Jenny. Just get our kids safely home,’ he replied.
CHAPTER 18
11.18 a.m. local time Al-Bayji, Iraq
Sergeant Bolton joined Private Tajican standing on the stack of pallets and keeping a watch on events outside in the street.
‘What is it?’ he asked the Fijian.
‘Movement, Sergeant. Something going on.’
Bolton looked up at the soldier who dwarfed him both in height and width. Tajican pointed towards some activity
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