Payback - John Hayes Series 06 (2020), стр. 31
“Yes, I know you’re right, but...” Maadhavi gulped, “If anything were to happen to Steve, I don’t know what I would do. I’ve... I’ve only just found him.”
“Don’t worry.” Adriana gave a reassuring smile. “Nothing is going to happen. Now tell me all about how you met Steve.”
48
They headed southeast along the E90, which roughly followed the route of the River Tigris. The roads were empty, only the occasional goods vehicle trundling along in the slow lane or passing in the opposite direction. John lowered his window a little to savor the cool night air.
He turned his attention to the man sitting beside him. Perhaps in his late thirties, he had the weather-beaten face of someone who spent a lot of his life outdoors. His handshake had been strong and firm, and he exuded a feeling of confidence. Right or wrong, John had liked him instantly, in complete contrast to his boss.
“Do you do this a lot?”
Hemin glanced at him, then looked in the mirror, studying the men behind him, deciding how much to say.
“I have done it before, yes.”
They drove in silence for a while, then Hemin asked, “Why do you want to go there? I saw your vests. It says Press, but...” He glanced sideways at John. “I don’t think you are press.”
“Why not?”
Hemin snorted. “Press don’t need to enter Syria illegally. They cross the border at the normal crossing.”
“Mehmet didn’t tell you?”
“No.”
John remained silent. Perhaps there was a reason Mehmet hadn’t told his man why they were crossing.
Hemin kept quiet for a while.
“You are not fighters. I’ve seen the fighters, they are different.” He glanced in the rear mirror again, then looked at John. “Who are you?”
John didn’t know what to say. He felt he could trust the man but was reluctant to give too much information. Steve saved him from making a decision.
“Hemin, right?” Steve leaned forward and spoke from the back. “I’m Steve. My niece is over there with her baby. Her baby is sick. We are going to rescue her. We have nothing to do with any government, Al Qaeda, or ISIS, or whatever it’s called in these parts. We just want to bring a young girl and her daughter to safety. Do you understand me?”
Hemin frowned and nodded slowly, his eyes alternating between the road ahead and the image of Steve in his rear-view mirror.
“The girl is like a daughter to me, so if you or your boss are planning any monkey business, and you prevent me from saving her life, I will come back here and rip your balls off and stuff them down your throat.” He sat back in his seat, scowling at the back of Hemin’s head.
Mansur leaned across and whispered, “Monkey business?”
“I’ll explain later.”
John turned to look at Steve with raised eyebrows. He wasn’t sure how to tell him to calm down without actually saying it, but Steve seemed to understand. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then stared out the window into the darkness.
John turned back to the front and watched the road, hoping Steve’s outburst wouldn’t have a detrimental effect. A sign for the Iraqi border flashed past on his right, and he hoped they were heading in the right direction.
“How old is the girl?” Hemin asked after a tense couple of minutes.
“Twenty-four,” John replied.
“And the baby?”
“Maybe eighteen months.”
Hemin shook his head and muttered something in Turkish. His eyes moved to the rear-view mirror.
“You can trust me. Don’t worry.”
49
They followed the highway for twenty minutes, at one point passing a long line of semi-trailers parked along the side of the road.
“They will cross into Iraq in the morning,” Hemin said by way of explanation. “The border gate is about fifteen kilometers ahead.”
“Is that where we are going?”
Hemin grinned and shook his head. “Wait and see.”
“Hemin, there is something I don’t understand. The Turkish government is supporting the fight against the Syrian government?”
Hemin raised one hand off the steering wheel at the same time as he shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
“Hmmm, everyone seems to say that.”
Hemin glanced across at John.
“These matters are beyond people like you and me. These are the games of our leaders.” He shook his head and went back to looking at the road ahead. “The Syrian people are good. We have traded with them for thousands of years. But...” He sighed. “Power, money, greed...”
“Religion,” added John.
“No, no, no,” Hemin protested vehemently. “What is happening there is not about religion. Religion is the... how do you say? Tool. The fight in Syria is about oil, money, control.”
John was beginning to like Hemin, confirming his earlier impression. This simple working man, dressed in farmer’s clothes, knew a lot more about what was really happening than so many so-called educated people.
“Who do you think is fighting the Syrian government? Freedom fighters? No, it is Al Qaeda, Daesh. And who do you think is funding them, training them, supplying them with weapons?”
“Turkey.”
“Not just Turkey. America, England, Saudi Arabia. All the people who tell us Al Qaeda and Daesh are our enemies.”
“How do you know?”
Hemin laughed. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
John chewed his lip and stared out the window. He wasn’t surprised. He already knew the world was a shitty place. He turned back to Hemin.
“But isn’t