Page 167 of Never
He was looking pleased with himself. She guessed that his warning had earned him the General’s profound gratitude. In a dictatorship, that was better than money.
‘I’m flattered,’ Tamara said. ‘But I’ll probably have to refuse. The CIA doesn’t like its officers to get publicity.’
He smiled. She guessed that he did not mind her refusal: it meant he would not have to share the spotlight. ‘I suppose you are supposed to besecretagents,’ he said.
‘All the same, it’s good to know that the General appreciates our work.’
‘The two surviving bombers have been under questioning.’
I bet they have, Tamara thought. They will have been kept awake all night, denied food and water, grilled by alternating teams of interrogators, and probably tortured too. ‘Will you share the interrogators’ full report with us?’
‘I should think it’s the least we can do.’
Which was not a yes, Tamara noted; but Karim probably did not have the authority to give a definite answer.
Karim said: ‘My friend the General is furious about the assassination attempt. He takes it very personally. He looked at the body of the chauffeur and said: “That could have been me.”’
Tamara decided not to ask whether the driver had been sacrificed in a test. She said: ‘I hope the General isn’t going to do anything rash.’ She was thinking of the elaborate ambush he had set up at the refugee camp, all in retaliation for a minor skirmish at the N’Gueli Bridge.
‘So do I. But he will have his revenge.’
‘I wonder what he will do.’
‘If I knew, I couldn’t tell you – but, as it happens, I don’t know.’
Tamara felt Karim was telling the truth, but that made her more apprehensive. Why would the General keep his intentions secret from one of his closest associates, the man who had just saved his life? ‘I hope it’s not dramatic enough to destabilize the region.’
‘Unlikely.’
‘I wonder. The Chinese are deeply involved in Sudan. We don’t want them to start flexing their muscles.’
‘The Chinese are our friends.’
The Chinese had no friends, in Tamara’s opinion. They had clients and debtors. But she did not want to argue with Karim. He was a conservative old man who would only take so much from a girl. ‘That’s something to be grateful for,’ she said, trying to make it sound sincere. ‘And I’m sure you’ll urge caution.’
He looked smug. ‘I always do. Don’t worry. It will be all right.’
‘Inshallah,’ said Tamara. ‘God willing.’
***
The next day, towards the end of the afternoon, CNN began to report a serious fire in Port Sudan, the unimaginatively named major port in Sudan. Ships in the Red Sea had first reported the fire, said CNN. They broadcast a crackly radio interview with the captain of an oil tanker who had decided to stand offshore while he tried to find out whether it was safe to enter the harbour. There was a huge cloud of blue-grey smoke, he said.
Virtually all Sudan’s oil was exported from Port Sudan. Most of it arrived through a thousand-mile pipeline that was majority-owned and operated by the China National Petroleum Corporation. The Chinese had also built a refinery, and they were in the process of creating a new multi-billion-dollar tanker dock.
The CNN report was followed by a government announcement that the fire service expected to have the blaze under control shortly, which meant it was out of control, and that a full investigation would be carried out, which meant they had no idea what had caused it. Tamara had a dark suspicion in the back of her mind that she did not yet voice to anyone.
She began to monitor the jihadi websites, the ones that celebrated beheadings and kidnappings. On her first sweep they were all quiet.
She called Colonel Marcus and asked: ‘Do you have any satellite of Port Sudan just before the fire?’
‘Probably,’ said Susan. ‘There’s never much cloud over that part of the globe. What time frame?’
‘CNN reported it around four thirty, and there was already a pall of smoke…’
‘Three thirty or earlier, then. I’ll take a look. What do you suspect?’
‘I don’t really know. Something.’
