Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

H ANI K HALIL LOOKED UP FROM behind his desk when the Chief of Police and his deputy came barging into his office without an appointment.

‘Good afternoon, Chief,' said Khalil. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?'

‘It is indeed a pleasure,' said the Chief, ‘to finally place you under arrest.'

‘On what charge?' asked Khalil calmly.

‘Bribing a public official.'

‘Anyone in particular?' asked Khalil, trying to make light of it.

‘The Governor of ‘Ulaysha Prison.'

‘Can't say I've ever come across the man,' responded Khalil, testing the water.

‘You had a meeting with him in his office on Tuesday, just after midnight.'

‘You have proof, of course,' said Khalil, now more cautious.

‘A signed confession,' said the Chief, ‘admitting that you offered him three hundred thousand dollars in cash to have Mr Simon Hartley killed.'

‘Hearsay at best,' said Khalil, now on the defensive, ‘and in any case, as you well know, Mr Hartley is very much alive – and, I'm told, on his way back home.'

‘But what isn't hearsay,' replied the Chief, ‘is that last Monday you withdrew three hundred thousand dollars from your personal account, one hundred and fifty thousand of which has ended up in a bank account in Dublin in the name of Mrs Sean O'Driscoll.'

‘Not a name I'm familiar with,' said Khalil.

‘That much I believe,' said the Chief, ‘but – unfortunately for you – the Governor has handed over the remaining one hundred and fifty thousand. He's agreed to take early retirement and will be appearing as a government witness in exchange for no charges being brought against him.'

Khalil shifted uneasily in his seat, and this time didn't come up with an immediate response.

‘If I had to guess,' said the Chief, ‘I suspect you're looking at ten years in ‘Ulaysha Prison where, I can assure you, you won't be getting ten per cent of anything.' He paused, ‘Unless of course …'

‘Unless of course?' repeated Khalil, now clinging onto a lifeline.

‘You're finally willing to tell the truth about who did kill Paolo Conti at the Overseas Club, because it certainly wasn't Simon Hartley, as the barman and the security guard on duty that night have already testified.' He paused to let the information sink in. ‘They've both confirmed in a written statement that it was in fact Prince Ahmed bin Majid who stabbed Conti, and not Mr Simon Hartley, who they both say was your guest at the club that night, despite the fact you claimed at the time you didn't know him.'

‘But if I were to do that,' said Khalil, ‘I would be signing my own death warrant.'

‘Not if your friend Prince Ahmed is in prison, while you're safely back at home in Lebanon.'

Khalil took his time considering the percentages in this particular deal, and decided the odds weren't fifty-fifty. ‘If I were to agree to make a statement confirming it was Ahmed who killed Conti, will you guarantee that I can leave the country without being charged?'

‘I'll give you twenty-four hours,' said the Chief, ‘no more. If you're still around after that, I will arrest you.'

···

When the aircraft door opened, Simon stepped off the plane to be greeted with the wonderful sight of a London drizzle. He walked unsteadily down the steps, surprised not to be hounded by baying journalists or the flashing bulbs of photographers desperate for a picture – all part of the agreement struck between the new Saudi Defence Minister and the British Ambassador.

A solitary figure was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps. Simon had met Mr Trevelyan during his Westminster briefings before leaving for Saudi and had at one time wondered if they'd ever meet again.

‘Welcome home, Mr Hartley,' said the Foreign Secretary's private secretary.

‘Thank you,' said Simon, ‘and I must also thank you for the role you played in getting me home safely.'

‘Don't thank me,' said Trevelyan. ‘It was a far higher authority who oiled those particular wheels. But before you join your wife and family, there is one more thing I need to brief you on.'

Simon had thought nothing would surprise him, after what he'd been put through in Riyadh, but he was wrong.

···

When Khalil finally agreed to the inevitable, the Chief of Police took a prepared statement out of his briefcase and placed it on the desk in front of the witness.

Khalil read the damning words, and for a moment seemed to hesitate, until the Chief reminded him, ‘Ten years in ‘Ulaysha, or the chance to go home and be with your wife and family. Your choice, of course.'

The Chief picked up the pen on Khalil's desk and handed it to him. After another moment of hesitation, Khalil signed on the dotted line.

The policeman waited for the ink to dry before he slipped the confession back into his briefcase and checked his watch. ‘Twenty-four hours,' he reminded him before he and his deputy departed as quickly as they had come.

‘Where next?' asked the Chief's driver as the two police officers jumped into the back of their waiting car.

‘The Overseas Club,' replied the Chief, ‘where we will still have to get statements from the barman and the security guard who were on duty that night, which shouldn't prove too difficult, now we have a written confession from Khalil.'

‘And after that?' asked his deputy.

‘We arrest Prince Ahmed bin Majid.'

···

Hannah had been waiting in Arrivals for over an hour. When she saw her husband for the first time, she ran towards him, threw her arms around him – or what was left of him – and clung on, still finding it hard to believe he'd arrived home safely.

Simon placed an arm around her shoulders as she led him unsteadily towards the car park. So many questions she wanted to ask, and now a lifetime to ask them. She lowered him gently into the car and put on his seat belt before taking her place behind the wheel.

As they drove out onto the road, Simon watched as the rain stopped and the sun began to rise on a blissful English autumn morning. Simon had forgotten how he'd taken for granted the simple pleasures of life he feared he might never experience again: church spires gleaming in the sunlight, birds tweeting merrily on high, patrons of local pubs spilling out onto the pavement, clutching onto pints of warm beer, children playing football on the village green and a bobby on his bicycle doing the afternoon rounds.

When the Old Vicarage came into sight, Simon finally believed it wasn't a dream. His eyes filled with tears when he saw his two sons standing on the doorstep waiting for him.

He jumped out of the car and began running towards them, but his legs gave way and he collapsed onto the ground. Robert ran to his side, scooped his father up and became his crutch as he helped him into the house.

Hannah closed the door on the past.

···

The Speaker rose from her chair in the Commons and called for order, before inviting the Foreign Secretary to make a statement on behalf of the government.

Robin Cook took his place at the dispatch box, opened his red ministerial folder and said, ‘With your permission, Madam Speaker, I will make a statement concerning the negotiations the government has been conducting with Saudi Arabia for a long-term arms contract.'

The House fell silent.

‘I am delighted to announce,' continued the Foreign Secretary, ‘that Sir Bernard Anscombe, our Ambassador in Riyadh, this morning signed a comprehensive agreement on behalf of Her Majesty's government for a three-billion-pound arms contract with Saudi Arabia.'

Hear, hear! echoed from the government benches, but they were far from universal.

‘Full details of which will be available to members in the order office immediately following the conclusion of this statement.'

The House listened intently as the Foreign Secretary took them slowly through the details of the agreement, ending with the words, ‘This contract, Madam Speaker, will cement a long-term relationship with the Middle East, making possible the immediate employment of some three thousand support staff on the ground and a further twenty thousand in factories up and down the country.'

The hear, hears were a little louder this time.

The Foreign Secretary turned to the last page of his statement. ‘I know the whole House will want to congratulate Mr Simon Hartley, who has quite recently returned to this country, on the role he played in securing this historic contract.' Mr Trevelyan had drawn a line through the words and not always in the easiest of circumstances.

Hear, hears emanated from around the house, having finally found something they could all agree on.

‘Madam Speaker, I commend this statement to the House.'

After the background noise had subsided, the Speaker rose again and called for the shadow frontbench spokesman to respond.

William Hague entered the fray. He gripped the dispatch box and, looking directly at the government benches said, ‘While congratulating the Foreign Secretary on this historic agreement, may I remind the House that it was Margaret Thatcher who opened these negotiations …'

Cheers and jeers in equal measure emanated from both sides of the chamber.