'Neither!' shouted Al Obaydi, leaping to his feet, but the guards grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him back onto the chair.

'Now that you've got that little outburst out of the way,'

said the Prosecutor calmly, 'perhaps we can continue. You travelled to Sweden, to Kalmar to be exact, to keep an appointment with a Mr Pedersson, whom you did seem willing to phone.' The Prosecutor checked his notes again.

'And what was the purpose of this visit, now that you have confirmed it was not a holiday?'

'To try and find out who it was who had stolen the safe.'

'Or was it to make sure the safe was on the route you had already planned for it?'

'Certainly not,' said Al Obaydi, his voice rising. 'After all, it was I who discovered that Riffat was the Mossad agent Kratz.'

'You knew that Riffat was a Mossad agent?' queried the Prosecutor in mock disbelief.

'Yes, I found out when I was in Kalmar,' said Al Obaydi.

'But you told Mr Pedersson that Mr Riffat was a thorough man, a man who could be trusted,' said the State Prosecutor, checking his notes. 'Am I right? So now at last we've found someone you can trust.'

'It was quite simply that I didn't want Pedersson to know what I'd discovered.'

'I don't think you wanted anyone to know what you had discovered, as I shall go on to show. What did you do next?'

'I flew back to Paris.'

'And did you spend the night at the emba.s.sy?' 'Yes, I did, but I was only stopping overnight on my way to Jordan.'

'I'll come to your trip to Jordan in a moment, if I may.

But what I should like to know now is why, when you were back at our emba.s.sy in Paris, you didn't immediately call our Amba.s.sador in Geneva to inform him of what you haddiscovered? Not only was the Amba.s.sador in residence, but he took a call from another member of the emba.s.sy staff after you had gone to bed.'

Al Obaydi suddenly realised how Farrar knew everything. He tried to collect his thoughts.

'My only interest was getting back to Baghdad to let the Foreign Minister know the danger our leader might be facing.'

'Like the imminent dropping of American bombs on Mukhbarat headquarters?' suggested the State Prosecutor.

'I could not have known what the Americans were planning,'

shouted Al Obaydi.

'I see,' said Farrar. 'It was no more than a happy coincidence that you were safely tucked up in bed in Paris while Tomahawk missiles were showering down on Baghdad.'

'But I returned to Baghdad immediately I learned of the bombing,' insisted Al Obaydi.

'Perhaps you wouldn't have been in quite such a hurry to return if the Americans had succeeded in a.s.sa.s.sinating our leader.'

'But my report would have proved ...'

'And where is that report?'

'I intended to write it on the journey from Jordan to Baghdad.'

'How convenient. And did you advise your trustworthy friend Mr Riffat to ring the Minister of Industry to find out if he was expected?'

'No, I did not,' said Al Obaydi. 'If any of this were true,' he added, 'why would I have worked so hard to see that our great leader secured the Declaration?'

'I'm glad you mentioned the Declaration,' said the State Prosecutor softly, 'because I'm also puzzled by the role you played in that particular exercise. But first, let me ask you, did you trust our Amba.s.sador in Geneva to see that the Declaration was delivered to Baghdad?'

'Yes, I did.'

'And did it reach Baghdad safely?' asked the Prosecutor, glancing at the battered parchment, still nailed to the wall behind Saddam.

'Yes, it did.'

'Then why not entrust the knowledge you had acquired about the safe to the same man, remembering that it was his responsibility?'

'This was different.'

'It certainly was, and I shall show the Council just howdifferent. How was the Declaration paid for?'

'I don't understand,' said Al Obaydi.

'Then let me make it easier for you. How was each payment dealt with?'

'Ten million dollars was to be paid once the contract had been agreed, and a further forty million when the Declaration was handed over.'

'And how much of that money - the state's money -did you keep for yourself?'

'Not one cent.'

'Well, let us see if that is totally accurate, shall we?

Where did the meetings take place for the exchange of these vast sums of money?'

'The first payment was made to a bank in New Jersey, and the second to Dummond et cie, one of our banks in Switzerland.'

'And the first payment of ten million dollars, if I understand you correctly, you insisted should be in cash?'

'That is not correct,' said Al Obaydi. 'The other side insisted that it should be in cash.'

'How convenient. But then, once again, we only have your word for that, because our Amba.s.sador in Xew York has stated it was you who insisted the first payment had to be in cash.

Perhaps he misunderstood you as well. But let us move on to the second payment, and do correct me if I have misunderstood you.'

He paused. 'That was paid direct into Franchard et cie?'

'That is correct,' said Al Obaydi.

'And did you receive, I think the word is a "kickback", after either of these payments?'

'Certainly not.'

'Well, what is certain is that, as the first payment was made in cash, it would be hard for anyone to prove otherwise.

But as for the second payment...' The Prosecutor paused to let the significance of his words sink in.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' snapped Al Obaydi.

'Then you must be having another lapse of memory, because during your absence, when you were rushing back from Paris to warn the President of the imminent danger to his life, you received a communication from Franchard et cie which, because the letter was addressed to our Amba.s.sador in Paris, ended up on the desk of the Deputy Foreign Minister.'

'I've had no communication with Franchard et cie.''I'm not suggesting you did,' said the Prosecutor, as he strode forward to within a foot of Al Obaydi. 'I'm suggesting they communicated with you. Because they sent you your latest bank statement in the name of Hamid Al Obaydi, dated June 25th 1993, showing that your account was credited with one million dollars on February 18th 1993.'

'It's not possible,' said Al Obaydi defiantly.

'It's not possible?' said the Prosecutor, thrusting a copy of the statement in front of Al Obaydi.

'This is easy to explain. The Cavalli family is trying to get revenge because we didn't pay the full amount of one hundred million as originally promised.'

'Revenge, you claim. The money isn't real? It doesn't exist? This is just a piece of paper? A figment of our imagination?'

'Yes,' said Al Obaydi. 'That is the truth.'

'So perhaps you can explain why one hundred thousand dollars was withdrawn from this account on the day after you had visited Franchard et cie?'

'That's not possible.'

'Another impossibility? Another figment of the imagination? Then you have not seen this withdrawal order for one hundred thousand dollars, sent to you by the bank a few days later? The signature on which bears a remarkable resemblance to the one on the sanctions report which you accepted earlier was authentic'

The Prosecutor held both doc.u.ments in front of Al Obaydi so they touched the tip of his nose. He looked at the two signatures and realised what Cavalli must have done. The Prosecutor proceeded to sign his death warrant, even before Al Obaydi had been given the chance to explain.

'And now you are no doubt going to ask the Council to believe that it was Cavalli who also had your signature forged?'

A little laughter trickled round the table, and Al Obaydi suspected that the Prosecutor knew that he had only spoken the truth.

'I have had enough of this,' said the one person in the room who would have dared to interrupt the State Prosecutor.

Al Obaydi looked up in a last attempt to catch the attention of the President, but with the exception of the State Prosecutor the Council were looking towards the top of the table and nodding their agreement.

'There are more pressing matters for the Council toconsider.' He waved a hand as if he were swatting an irritating fly.

Two soldiers stepped forward and removed Al Obaydi from his sight.

'That was a whole lot easier than I expected,' said Cohen, once they had pa.s.sed through the Iraqi checkpoint.

'A little too easy, perhaps,' said Kratz.

'It's good to know that we've got one optimist and one pessimist on this trip,' said Scott.

Once Cohen was on the highway he remained cautious of pushing the vehicle beyond fifty miles per hour. The lorries that pa.s.sed in the opposite direction on their way to Jordan rarely had more than two of their four headlights working, which sometimes made them appear like motorcycles in the distance, so overtaking became hazardous. But his eyes needed to be at their most alert for those lorries in front of him: for them, one red tail-light was a luxury.

Kratz had always thought the three-hundred-mile journey from the border to Baghdad would be too long to consider covering in one stretch, so he had decided they should have a rest about forty miles outside the Iraqi capital. Scott asked Cohen what time he thought they might reach their rest point.

'a.s.suming I don't drive straight into a parked lorry that's been abandoned in the middle of the road or disappear down a pothole, I'd imagine we'll get there around four, five at the latest.'

'I don't like the sight of all these army vehicles on the road. What do you think they're up to?' asked Kratz, who hadn't slept a wink since they crossed the border.

'A battalion on the move, I'd say, sir. Doesn't look that unusual to me, and I don't think we'd need to worry about them unless they were going in the same direction as us.'

'Perhaps you're right,' said Kratz.

'You wouldn't give them a second thought if you'd crossed the border legally,' said Scott.

'Possibly. But Sergeant,' Kratz said, turning his attention back to Cohen, 'let me know the moment you spot anything you consider unusual.'

'You mean, like a woman worth a second glance?'

Kratz made no comment. He turned to ask Scott a question, only to find he had dozed off again. He envied Scott's ability to sleep anywhere at any time, especially under such pressure.

Sergeant Cohen drove on through the night, not always in astraight line, as he circ.u.mvented the occasional burned-out tank or large crater left over from the war. On and on they travelled, through small towns and seemingly uninhabited sleeping villages, until a few minutes past four, when Cohen swung off the highway and up a track that could have only considered one-way traffic. He drove for another twenty minutes, finally coming to a halt when the road ended at an overhanging ledge.

'Even a vulture wouldn't find us here,' said Cohen as he turned off the engine. 'Permission to have a smoke and a bit of shut-eye, Colonel?'

Kratz nodded and watched Cohen jump out of the cab and offer Aziz a cigarette before disappearing behind a palm tree. He checked the surrounding countryside carefully, and decided Cohen was right. When he returned to the truck, he found Aziz and the Sergeant were already asleep, while Scott was sitting on the ledge watching the sun come up over Baghdad.

'What a peaceful sight,' he said as Kratz sat down beside him, almost as though he had been talking to someone else.

'Only G.o.d could make a sunrise as beautiful as that.'

'Something isn't right,' muttered Kratz under his breath.

SADDAM NODDED TO THE PROSECUTOR.'Now we have dealt with the traitor, let us move on to the terrorists. What is the latest position, General?'

General Hamil, known as the Barber of Baghdad, opened the file in front of him - he kept a file on everybody, including those sitting around the table. Hamil had been educated at Sandhurst and returned to Iraq to receive the King's Commission, only to find there was no King to serve. So he switched his loyalty to the new President, Abdul Karim Qasim.

Then a young Captain changed sides in the 1963 coup and the Ba'ath Party took power. Once again Hamil switched his loyalty, and was rewarded with an appointment to the personal staff of the new Vice-President, Saddam Hussein. Since that day he had risen rapidly through the ranks. He was now Saddam's favourite General, and Commander of the Presidential Guard. He had the distinction of being the only man, with the exception of the President's bodyguards, allowed to wear a side-arm in Saddam's presence. He was Saddam's executioner.

His favourite hobby was to shave his victims' heads before they were hanged, with a blunt cut-throat razor that he never bothered to sharpen. Some of them disappointed him by dying before he could get the rope around their necks.Hamil studied his file for a few moments before offer- ing an opinion. 'The terrorists,' he began, 'crossed the border at 21.26 last night. Four pa.s.sports were presented to the immigration officer for stamping. Three were of Swedish origin, and one was from Iraq.'

'I'll skin that one personally,' said Saddam.

'The four men are travelling in a truck that appears to be quite old, but as we are unable to risk taking too close a look, I cannot be sure if we are dealing with a Trojan horse or not. The safe that you ordered, Mr President, is undoubtedly on the back of the truck.

'The truck has driven non-stop through the night at a steady pace of around forty miles per hour in the direction of Baghdad, but at 4.09 this morning it turned off into the desert, and we ceased to monitor its movements, as that particular path leads nowhere. We believe they have simply come off the road to rest before travelling on to the capital later this morning.'

'How many miles are they from Baghdad at this moment?'

asked the Minister of the Interior.