said, grimly.
Khan blinked myopically. ‘My team?’
‘We’ll come to that.’ Noman led them to the paved patio at the front entrance to the house, where the courier’s brother Abrar and his wife had been shot, and together they went inside. There was a large unfurnished room with un-rendered walls and a crumpled gate that had once blocked the base of the staircase leading to the second floor. Near the top of the staircase there were more bloodstains and bullet holes in the concrete, marking the spot where Khalid, the Sheikh’s twenty-three-year-old son, had been shot several times and died.
‘They jumped over Khalid’s body,’ Noman explained. ‘Blew open the cage leading to the third floor and advanced to the landing.’ He climbed to the next level, swivelled at the top of the stairs and pointed to the nearest bedroom. ‘The Sheikh was in there with two of his wives.’
He pushed open the door. More bloodstains.
‘The women resisted arrest,’ Raja Mahfouz said. ‘They attempted to shield him. The Americans shot one of them in the leg.’
‘Which one?’ Khan asked.
‘The Yemeni.’
‘Where is she?’
‘In the military hospital,’ Raja Mahfouz told him.
‘So?’
‘The women were pushed aside. The Americans shot the Sheikh in the chest and in the head. He died there on the floor.’
In silence they contemplated the ransacked room. Nine years and seven months after the Sheikh’s emissaries had brought down the Twin Towers and enraged a nation, the Americans had finally got their man. It wasn’t much of a place for the founder of Al Qaeda to die – a bare room with cheap nylon curtains and threadbare mattresses in a half-finished, shoddily constructed house.
‘They put the corpse in a black body bag and cuffed the women and escorted them down the stairs,’ Noman continued. ‘For the next twenty minutes or so they searched the house, gathered the surviving women and children against an outside wall and questioned them in Arabic, and then they destroyed the crashed helicopter with explosive charges and thermite grenades. They were careful to ensure that nothing was recoverable from it. In that time one of the rescue Chinooks arrived. The Americans were on the ground for less than forty minutes and we know from our allies in Jalalabad that the helicopters returnedthere at 3 am. The Sheikh’s body was sent from there to Bagram and then at dawn it was flown to the US Aircraft Carrier Carl Vinson and buried at sea.’
‘You’re a hundred percent sure about that?’ Khan demanded.
Noman shrugged. ‘The Americans called our friends in Saudi Intelligence and warned them what they were about to do. The Saudis informed us immediately.’
‘And our response?’
‘We have arrested five locals on suspicion of collaboration,’ Raja Mahfouz told them, ‘including a doctor who was running an immunisation drive in the town.’
‘And the surveillance team?’ Khan said, repeating his earlier question. ‘Why didn’t they report this?’
‘You had better follow me,’ Noman said, grim-faced.
*
A bundle of fur and a dark crimson smear on the concrete marked the spot where someone had clubbed the monkey to death. They stood in the hide by the window and stared back at the compound they had just vacated. Black soot scorched the wall of the pen and part of the Black Hawk’s tail hung over it.
The tripod and telescope was on its side, as if tipped over in a struggle. Omar was lying beside it with a bruised and puffed-up face, the belt that had been used to strangle him still looped around his neck. Tariq was gone.
‘Everything has been left the way it was found,’ Raja Mahfouz said.
‘According to the logbook, Omar was on watch here and Tariq was sleeping over there.’ Noman explained, pointing at the bedroom. He could feel Khan watching him. Yeah I fucked him here, he wanted to yell. But he was your boy. A traitor. ‘Gunfire. Explosions. Tariq must have woken up as soon as it kicked
Khan blinked myopically. ‘My team?’
‘We’ll come to that.’ Noman led them to the paved patio at the front entrance to the house, where the courier’s brother Abrar and his wife had been shot, and together they went inside. There was a large unfurnished room with un-rendered walls and a crumpled gate that had once blocked the base of the staircase leading to the second floor. Near the top of the staircase there were more bloodstains and bullet holes in the concrete, marking the spot where Khalid, the Sheikh’s twenty-three-year-old son, had been shot several times and died.
‘They jumped over Khalid’s body,’ Noman explained. ‘Blew open the cage leading to the third floor and advanced to the landing.’ He climbed to the next level, swivelled at the top of the stairs and pointed to the nearest bedroom. ‘The Sheikh was in there with two of his wives.’
He pushed open the door. More bloodstains.
‘The women resisted arrest,’ Raja Mahfouz said. ‘They attempted to shield him. The Americans shot one of them in the leg.’
‘Which one?’ Khan asked.
‘The Yemeni.’
‘Where is she?’
‘In the military hospital,’ Raja Mahfouz told him.
‘So?’
‘The women were pushed aside. The Americans shot the Sheikh in the chest and in the head. He died there on the floor.’
In silence they contemplated the ransacked room. Nine years and seven months after the Sheikh’s emissaries had brought down the Twin Towers and enraged a nation, the Americans had finally got their man. It wasn’t much of a place for the founder of Al Qaeda to die – a bare room with cheap nylon curtains and threadbare mattresses in a half-finished, shoddily constructed house.
‘They put the corpse in a black body bag and cuffed the women and escorted them down the stairs,’ Noman continued. ‘For the next twenty minutes or so they searched the house, gathered the surviving women and children against an outside wall and questioned them in Arabic, and then they destroyed the crashed helicopter with explosive charges and thermite grenades. They were careful to ensure that nothing was recoverable from it. In that time one of the rescue Chinooks arrived. The Americans were on the ground for less than forty minutes and we know from our allies in Jalalabad that the helicopters returnedthere at 3 am. The Sheikh’s body was sent from there to Bagram and then at dawn it was flown to the US Aircraft Carrier Carl Vinson and buried at sea.’
‘You’re a hundred percent sure about that?’ Khan demanded.
Noman shrugged. ‘The Americans called our friends in Saudi Intelligence and warned them what they were about to do. The Saudis informed us immediately.’
‘And our response?’
‘We have arrested five locals on suspicion of collaboration,’ Raja Mahfouz told them, ‘including a doctor who was running an immunisation drive in the town.’
‘And the surveillance team?’ Khan said, repeating his earlier question. ‘Why didn’t they report this?’
‘You had better follow me,’ Noman said, grim-faced.
*
A bundle of fur and a dark crimson smear on the concrete marked the spot where someone had clubbed the monkey to death. They stood in the hide by the window and stared back at the compound they had just vacated. Black soot scorched the wall of the pen and part of the Black Hawk’s tail hung over it.
The tripod and telescope was on its side, as if tipped over in a struggle. Omar was lying beside it with a bruised and puffed-up face, the belt that had been used to strangle him still looped around his neck. Tariq was gone.
‘Everything has been left the way it was found,’ Raja Mahfouz said.
‘According to the logbook, Omar was on watch here and Tariq was sleeping over there.’ Noman explained, pointing at the bedroom. He could feel Khan watching him. Yeah I fucked him here, he wanted to yell. But he was your boy. A traitor. ‘Gunfire. Explosions. Tariq must have woken up as soon as it kicked
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