opportunity arose, Zhilev might take the Arab in exchange for the bomb. Abed was a tool, and in the right circumstances, a very useful one.
‘This man is the engineer’s brother,’ Stratton said. ‘I need your help in finding him.’
Abed looked at Stratton, suddenly curious about him on a different level. He looked tired, but not for lack of sleep. It was the fatigue of someone old who had seen enough of life, but this man was young.The eyes were a window to a man’s soul, and Stratton’s were strong and unwavering, those of a man who led rather than followed; but there was something else in them that he had seen in only a few men before. He was inviting and approachable, but there was an undeniable warning not to cross his line. Everything about him, his strength, his spirit, the way he stood, threatened to ruin anyone who tried.
‘Why?’ Abed asked.
‘Because of what you did to his brother he has become very dangerous.’
‘How is he dangerous?’
‘I believe he wants to start a holy war between Islam and the West.’
‘He’s too late,’ Abed said, without intending to sound flippant.
‘This isn’t a war. It might be the beginning of one, but it’s not war. Not yet. This man can start one.’
Abed believed what the Englishman was saying and wanted to ask how one man could achieve such a powerful thing, but he knew he would not find out now, not here at least. He had no choice, no matter what this man wanted of him. He was here to barter for his freedom, and that meant servitude. They held his life in their hands and he had to do their bidding whether he liked it or not, trusted them or not, whatever the task.
‘Can I see the picture again?’ Abed asked.
Stratton handed it to him and Abed studied it more closely.
‘His name is Zhilev,’ Stratton said. ‘He’s a little broader than his brother and far more dangerous.’
‘More dangerous?’ Abed said. ‘I hope you have a gun when you meet him.’
No, but I have you, Stratton thought to himself.
Finding this man was obviously of great importance to the English and if Abed could help them, he would be helping himself. ‘Where do we start to look?’
‘We have to get to Jerusalem first.’
Abed ignored the fears he had of staying in this country where he was exposed to his greatest and most dangerous enemy, and concentrated on the positive aspects of succeeding in this mission.
‘Where do you live?’ Stratton asked.
‘Lebanon.’
‘How did you get into Palestine?’
‘I have false papers.’
‘You couldn’t have known about this meeting more than twenty-four hours ago. What are you doing here?’
‘My mother has been ill. She died yesterday,’ Abed said, unable to conceal his sadness. ‘I could not risk trying to get into Gaza but friends are bringing out some things from our house and I came to take them home with me.’
Stratton did not care about Abed’s loss and paused to consider his next move. ‘Let’s go,’ he finally said, and headed for the door. Abed followed.
Five minutes later they were back at the car where Morgan was waiting for them. Stratton climbed in and did not introduce Abed who got into the back.
‘We need to get back into Jerusalem but not through the checkpoint,’ he said to Morgan.
Morgan glanced over his shoulder at the Arab just long enough to be able to recognise him if he saw him again.
‘There’s only one way I know of,’ Morgan said. ‘Through the old quarry. It comes out right behind the Kalandia checkpoint - the Jerusalem side of it.’
‘Problems?’ Stratton asked.
‘I’ve never done it but I know people who have. A couple of Brit peace nuts who are banned from Ramallah by the IDF got in a few nights ago. The soldiers don’t watch it because it passes right under a settlement. Those fucking settlers are more dangerous than the soldiers. They shoot first and don’t even bother to ask questions later.’
‘Anyone done it in daylight?’
‘A year ago four Frog journalists tried it. All of ’em were shot and they only lived because the IDF came along to check on the settlers’ handiwork and found ’em.’
This was not sounding encouraging. ‘Any other options?’ Stratton asked.
‘None that I know of. I could find out.’
‘We don’t have time. Let’s take a look.’
Morgan started the engine, turned the car in the road to avoid the busy marketplace and cut down a rugged, trash-strewn side street, scattering several skinny dogs fighting over a chicken carcass.
Five minutes