want. There are at least a thousand rumors in the streets, but I don’t think I’ve heard a single one that’s true. The only important thing is that you tell me what you know. You’re hardly in a position to be uncooperative. It’s not like you can just run back home.”
“Thanks to you.”
“It’s not my job to anticipate repercussions, merely to get information. Mahmood Razaq is the subject. But I can always move on to other matters. Your newspaper. Your girlfriend. Daliya, is it? Or maybe Razaq, if you prefer.”
“You probably know more about his plans than I do. Anything I can tell you has already been in the papers. His son was in the hotel lobby and my client wanted an introduction.”
“Stanford Kelly. An American.” Tariq glanced at a paper on the desk. “Just arrived this morning.”
“Your people obviously don’t have enough to keep you busy.”
“We’ve far too much. You just happened to have stumbled onto two of the people we’re interested in.”
“Skelly? What’s he done?”
“See? As always you have no idea what or who you’re dealing with. Do you know where he’s been?” Tariq consulted the paper. “Somalia, Bosnia, Panama, other places. Wherever U.S. forces go, he goes.”
“In America that’s called covering the news.”
“You can think of it however you want, as long as you keep us posted on his movements. Who he sees. What kinds of questions he asks. Where he wants to go next.”
“He wants to go to Afghanistan, just like all the others.”
“Yes. But
where
in Afghanistan?”
“I’m not sure even he knows. He just wants a dateline from across the border. The sooner he gets it the sooner he can go home.”
“And he’s hoping to tag along with Mahmood Razaq.”
Najeeb shook his head. “You know they won’t let him.”
“Maybe they will, but just don’t know it yet.”
It was an interesting remark, but Najeeb didn’t rise to the bait. “Then why did you need to talk to me?”
“Every bit helps. Have you ever heard of triangulation? Calculating your exact position by readings from at least three different points. The more sources, the better. So what did he say to you then, this son of Mahmood’s? Is the great man going to see you later?”
Najeeb hesitated. No harm in telling the truth, he supposed. No doubt Tariq’s people were already staking out Razaq’s house.
“Tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock.”
Tariq paused to write something down. If anything, Najeeb had probably just confirmed that Razaq’s little war party wasn’t setting out this evening. Unless Razaq’s son had lied to him, of course.
“What do you do with all of this trivia, anyway?”
Tariq said nothing, continuing to write. Then he set down his pen.
“You may be receiving a visitor from time to time in the next few days. At your apartment, not your office. When you do, I urge you to be cooperative and answer all his questions.”
“So it was your man who left the note, then?” Somehow it made Najeeb feel better. An official snoop was more predictable than a fanatic.
Tariq frowned. “The note?”
“Warning me to behave. Quoting the words of the Prophet.”
“We’ve got enough religious nuts to worry about without creating any. Your contact’s code name is Abdullah. He dresses like a phone man, partly because he
is
a phone man. It will all be very boring and businesslike. Unless you become uncooperative, in which case we’ll make other arrangements. As I told you, I don’t concern myself with repercussions, only with information.”
Najeeb took that for what it was, while wondering again about the note under his door. He decided to retrieve his reply if it were still posted by the mailboxes. He began to stand, but Tariq motioned him back down.
“I’ll say when you’re done.”
“Another goon outside?”
“No need. Not in here.” He said it with some distaste, as if he, too, felt claustrophobic. “We don’t always just use the stick, you know.
“Thanks to you.”
“It’s not my job to anticipate repercussions, merely to get information. Mahmood Razaq is the subject. But I can always move on to other matters. Your newspaper. Your girlfriend. Daliya, is it? Or maybe Razaq, if you prefer.”
“You probably know more about his plans than I do. Anything I can tell you has already been in the papers. His son was in the hotel lobby and my client wanted an introduction.”
“Stanford Kelly. An American.” Tariq glanced at a paper on the desk. “Just arrived this morning.”
“Your people obviously don’t have enough to keep you busy.”
“We’ve far too much. You just happened to have stumbled onto two of the people we’re interested in.”
“Skelly? What’s he done?”
“See? As always you have no idea what or who you’re dealing with. Do you know where he’s been?” Tariq consulted the paper. “Somalia, Bosnia, Panama, other places. Wherever U.S. forces go, he goes.”
“In America that’s called covering the news.”
“You can think of it however you want, as long as you keep us posted on his movements. Who he sees. What kinds of questions he asks. Where he wants to go next.”
“He wants to go to Afghanistan, just like all the others.”
“Yes. But
where
in Afghanistan?”
“I’m not sure even he knows. He just wants a dateline from across the border. The sooner he gets it the sooner he can go home.”
“And he’s hoping to tag along with Mahmood Razaq.”
Najeeb shook his head. “You know they won’t let him.”
“Maybe they will, but just don’t know it yet.”
It was an interesting remark, but Najeeb didn’t rise to the bait. “Then why did you need to talk to me?”
“Every bit helps. Have you ever heard of triangulation? Calculating your exact position by readings from at least three different points. The more sources, the better. So what did he say to you then, this son of Mahmood’s? Is the great man going to see you later?”
Najeeb hesitated. No harm in telling the truth, he supposed. No doubt Tariq’s people were already staking out Razaq’s house.
“Tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock.”
Tariq paused to write something down. If anything, Najeeb had probably just confirmed that Razaq’s little war party wasn’t setting out this evening. Unless Razaq’s son had lied to him, of course.
“What do you do with all of this trivia, anyway?”
Tariq said nothing, continuing to write. Then he set down his pen.
“You may be receiving a visitor from time to time in the next few days. At your apartment, not your office. When you do, I urge you to be cooperative and answer all his questions.”
“So it was your man who left the note, then?” Somehow it made Najeeb feel better. An official snoop was more predictable than a fanatic.
Tariq frowned. “The note?”
“Warning me to behave. Quoting the words of the Prophet.”
“We’ve got enough religious nuts to worry about without creating any. Your contact’s code name is Abdullah. He dresses like a phone man, partly because he
is
a phone man. It will all be very boring and businesslike. Unless you become uncooperative, in which case we’ll make other arrangements. As I told you, I don’t concern myself with repercussions, only with information.”
Najeeb took that for what it was, while wondering again about the note under his door. He decided to retrieve his reply if it were still posted by the mailboxes. He began to stand, but Tariq motioned him back down.
“I’ll say when you’re done.”
“Another goon outside?”
“No need. Not in here.” He said it with some distaste, as if he, too, felt claustrophobic. “We don’t always just use the stick, you know.
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