The Templar Legacy by Mario Reading

Author:Mario Reading [Reading, Mario]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atlantic Books Ltd

THIRTY-THREE

Hart and Nalan stood in the entranceway to a shuttered and barred shop. Hart glanced down the passageway between the shops to check if they were being watched or marked out in any way. It was fast becoming a habit. ‘If you go to Iran he will kill you.’

Nalan gave a vehement shake of the head. ‘No. He is not as powerful in Iran as he was in Iraq. There, he is only a servant. Here, he was the master. He says he must tell me something. About my parents. Something I need to know.’

‘You don’t believe him, do you?’

‘Of course not. He is Hassif. Totally evil. But now I know he is in Bukan I have to go. I need to do this.’

Hart put out a hand as if to stay her from leaving for the border at that precise moment. ‘But that’s just what he wants you to do. Can’t you see? You are one of the few remaining eyewitnesses to the crimes he committed. If the International Criminal Court ever gets hold of him, your testimony alone could see him imprisoned for life.’

‘They will never get hold of him. Iran will protect him. He works for them now. I told you this.’

‘Yet another reason why you should not go over there.’

Nalan shook her head. ‘He sent me photographs, John. Of men doing things to my mother. He even knew my phone number to call me. Hearing his voice again on the phone made me go weak with fear. It was as if I was a little child again, back in the prison. I cannot understand this man. His given name, Rahim, means merciful and kind. How could God allow such a man to have a name like his?’

‘God made a mistake in Hassif’s case. A bad one.’

‘No. God is not responsible for filth like Hassif. They create themselves. A man like Hassif manufactures his own destiny. He will answer to God, yes. But that will come later. On this earth I want him to answer only to me.’

Hart watched her for a moment, his eyes travelling over the familiar and yet unfamiliar features. ‘How can you possibly get into Iran?’

‘I am a Kurd. It is easy. I have cousins. Iraqi Kurds travel across the border all the time.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Why should I not be serious?’

Hart burst out laughing. It was neither the time nor the place for levity, but he couldn’t help it. The expression on Nalan’s face when he’d asked her the question had been one of such outraged astonishment that for a moment she had looked like a surprised cat. ‘And me? Can I get into Iran just as easily?’

‘You? No. It would be impossible.’

‘And why, pray?’

‘Now you are not being serious, John. You cannot be seriously asking me this question.’

‘I am. Seriously.’

She touched his arm and they began walking again. Soon they passed into a courtyard in which carpets were draped over frames and laid out flat on the ground, the better to be admired.

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