Khatid, but as he looked across the lounge he immediately
recognized the slim dark-haired figure standing beside the window, despite not having set eyes on him for several years.
Richter stepped slightly to one side, ensuring that both the CO19 officers were clear of his line of fire, and brought his Glock up to the aim. ‘Remember Abu Sabaawi,’ he shouted
– the precise but incomprehensible message Simpson had given him.
Khatid stared across the room at him, and almost visibly flinched. Then he tried to run, but it was too late for that.
Richter aimed carefully and squeezed the trigger. His first shot missed, the sound appallingly loud in the small room, the nine-millimetre bullet screaming past the young Arab’s head and
smashing through the window, but his second found its mark. The left side of Khatid’s chest bloomed red, and his body slammed back against the wall before crumpling to the floor.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ one of the CO19 officers yelled, swinging his Heckler & Koch round to cover Richter. ‘He was unarmed, no threat to anyone. That was just a
cold-blooded fucking execution, you stupid bastard spook.’
Richter ignored him and walked across the room to kneel beside Khatid’s broken body. He checked for a pulse, then nodded in satisfaction, stood up and looked at the CO19 officers, now
joined by three others. Pointing at the two young Arabs who were staring at Richter and the body of their fallen comrade with a kind of sick fascination, he ordered: ‘Get them out of here.
I’m taking over this scene as of now.’
‘I’ll see you in court, you bastard,’ one of the CO19 officers shouted. ‘I don’t care who you are – you’re not above the law.’
‘Just do it,’ Richter snapped, ‘and get Jessup in here.’
At that moment the inspector himself walked into the lounge. ‘What the hell’s happened?’
‘This fucking spook just slotted an unarmed man, that’s what happened. And now he’s trying to take over.’
Jessup stared across at Richter, and then at the two frightened Arabs. ‘Get them out of here,’ he instructed. ‘I’ll sort this out.’
He stepped across to Richter and held out his hand. ‘Give me your weapon.’
‘No,’ Richter said simply.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Jessup said. ‘You’ve just shot an unarmed man in front of two police officers. It doesn’t matter who you are or what your orders were,
you’re under arrest for murder. Now hand over your weapon.’
‘No,’ Richter repeated. ‘Get these officers out of here, and then I’ll tell you why I had to do what I did.’
For a moment Jessup just stared at him, then turned round and pointed at the remaining two Arabs. ‘Take those two outside, caution them and arrest them, and the other three, on suspicion
of CPIA under TACT – you know the form. Then just wait outside.’
Once the other police officers had left the room with their captives, Jessup turned back to Richter. ‘This had better be fucking good,’ he snarled.
‘Oh, it is,’ Richter said. ‘I can guarantee that.’
And, directly behind him, Salah Khatid stood upright again, with a broad smile on his face.
Chapter Four
Monday
Manama, Bahrain
They left the Chevrolet in a car park lot abutting the King Faisal Highway and walked from there to the Al-Jazira Hotel, which they’d chosen primarily because of its
constantly changing clientele. The car was parked far enough away that, unless somebody was already following them, which O’Hagan was pretty sure was not the case, nobody could connect it
with them. And even if someone – some section of the Bahrain security apparatus – did seize or search the vehicle, there was nothing inside it to incriminate anyone. The weapon
components, the discovery of which would certainly have resulted in the immediate arrest of the two Americans, were now in the large briefcase Petrucci was carrying.
Stratford, East London
Jessup pushed open the door of the café and
recognized the slim dark-haired figure standing beside the window, despite not having set eyes on him for several years.
Richter stepped slightly to one side, ensuring that both the CO19 officers were clear of his line of fire, and brought his Glock up to the aim. ‘Remember Abu Sabaawi,’ he shouted
– the precise but incomprehensible message Simpson had given him.
Khatid stared across the room at him, and almost visibly flinched. Then he tried to run, but it was too late for that.
Richter aimed carefully and squeezed the trigger. His first shot missed, the sound appallingly loud in the small room, the nine-millimetre bullet screaming past the young Arab’s head and
smashing through the window, but his second found its mark. The left side of Khatid’s chest bloomed red, and his body slammed back against the wall before crumpling to the floor.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ one of the CO19 officers yelled, swinging his Heckler & Koch round to cover Richter. ‘He was unarmed, no threat to anyone. That was just a
cold-blooded fucking execution, you stupid bastard spook.’
Richter ignored him and walked across the room to kneel beside Khatid’s broken body. He checked for a pulse, then nodded in satisfaction, stood up and looked at the CO19 officers, now
joined by three others. Pointing at the two young Arabs who were staring at Richter and the body of their fallen comrade with a kind of sick fascination, he ordered: ‘Get them out of here.
I’m taking over this scene as of now.’
‘I’ll see you in court, you bastard,’ one of the CO19 officers shouted. ‘I don’t care who you are – you’re not above the law.’
‘Just do it,’ Richter snapped, ‘and get Jessup in here.’
At that moment the inspector himself walked into the lounge. ‘What the hell’s happened?’
‘This fucking spook just slotted an unarmed man, that’s what happened. And now he’s trying to take over.’
Jessup stared across at Richter, and then at the two frightened Arabs. ‘Get them out of here,’ he instructed. ‘I’ll sort this out.’
He stepped across to Richter and held out his hand. ‘Give me your weapon.’
‘No,’ Richter said simply.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Jessup said. ‘You’ve just shot an unarmed man in front of two police officers. It doesn’t matter who you are or what your orders were,
you’re under arrest for murder. Now hand over your weapon.’
‘No,’ Richter repeated. ‘Get these officers out of here, and then I’ll tell you why I had to do what I did.’
For a moment Jessup just stared at him, then turned round and pointed at the remaining two Arabs. ‘Take those two outside, caution them and arrest them, and the other three, on suspicion
of CPIA under TACT – you know the form. Then just wait outside.’
Once the other police officers had left the room with their captives, Jessup turned back to Richter. ‘This had better be fucking good,’ he snarled.
‘Oh, it is,’ Richter said. ‘I can guarantee that.’
And, directly behind him, Salah Khatid stood upright again, with a broad smile on his face.
Chapter Four
Monday
Manama, Bahrain
They left the Chevrolet in a car park lot abutting the King Faisal Highway and walked from there to the Al-Jazira Hotel, which they’d chosen primarily because of its
constantly changing clientele. The car was parked far enough away that, unless somebody was already following them, which O’Hagan was pretty sure was not the case, nobody could connect it
with them. And even if someone – some section of the Bahrain security apparatus – did seize or search the vehicle, there was nothing inside it to incriminate anyone. The weapon
components, the discovery of which would certainly have resulted in the immediate arrest of the two Americans, were now in the large briefcase Petrucci was carrying.
Stratford, East London
Jessup pushed open the door of the café and
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