'Forty, perhaps fifty - an hour to an hour and a half at the most.'

'So, if we now have them trapped in the desert, General, why don't we just send troops in and cut them off?'

'While they are still bringing the safe to Baghdad?'

interrupted Saddam. 'No. That way lies our only danger.'

'I'm not sure I understand, Sayedi,' said the Minister of the Interior, turning to face his leader.

'Then I will explain, Minister,' Saddam said, exaggerating the final word cruelly. 'If we arrest them in the desert, who will believe us when we tell the world they are terrorists?

The Western press will even claim that we planted their pa.s.sports on them. No, I want them wrested right here in the Council Chamber, when it will be impossible for Mossad to deny their involvement and, more important, we will have exposed their plot and made fools of them in the eyes of the Zionist people.' 'Now I understand your profound wisdom, Sayedi.' Saddam waved a hand and turned his attention to the Minister of Industry.

'Have my orders been carried out?' 'To the letter, Excellency. When the terrorists arrive at the Ministry, they will be made to wait, and will be treated curtly, until they produce the doc.u.mentation that claims to come from your office.''They presented such a letter at the border,' interrupted General Hamil, still looking down at his file.

'The moment such a letter is presented to my office,'

continued the Minister for Industry, 'a crane will be supplied so that the safe can be transferred into this building. I fear that we will have to remove the doors on the front of the building, but only -'

'I am not interested in the doors,' said Saddam. 'When do you antic.i.p.ate that the safe will arrive outside the building?'

'Around midday,' said General Hamil. 'I shall personally take over the entire operation once the safe is inside the building, Mr President.'

'Good. And make sure the terrorists see the Declaration before they are arrested.'

'What if they were to try to destroy the doc.u.ment, Excellency?' asked the Interior Minister, attempting to recover some lost ground.

'Never,' said Saddam. 'They have come to Baghdad to steal the doc.u.ment, not to destroy their pathetic piece of history.' Two or three people round the table nodded their agreement. 'None of you except General Hamil and his immediate staff will come anywhere near this building for the next twenty-four hours. The fewer people who know what's really happening, the better. Don't even brief the officer of the day. I want the security to appear lax. That way they will fall right into our trap.'

General Hamil nodded.

'Prosecutor,' said Saddam, turning his attention to the other end of the table, 'what will the international community say when they learn I have arrested the Zionist pigs?'

'They are terrorists, Excellency, and for terrorists, there can be only one sentence. Especially after the Americans launched their missiles on innocent civilians only days ago.'

Saddam nodded. 'Any other questions?'

'Just one, Your Excellency,' said the Deputy Foreign Minister. 'What do you want to do about the girl?'

'Ah, yes,' said Saddam, smiling for the first time. 'Now that she has served her purpose, I must think of a suitable way to end her life. Where is she at the moment?'

As the truck began its slow journey back along the tiny desert path, with Aziz taking his turn behind the wheel andCohen in the back with Madame Bertha, Scott felt the atmosphere inside the cab had changed. When they pulled off the highway to rest, he still believed they were in no real danger. But the grim silence of morning made him suddenly aware of the task they had set themselves.

They had Kratz to thank for the original idea, and mixed with his particular c.o.c.ktail of imagination, discipline, courage, and the a.s.sumption that no one knew what they were up to, Scott felt they had a better than even chance of getting away with it, especially now they knew exactly where the Declaration was situated.

When they reached the main road, Aziz jokingly asked, 'Right or left?'

Scott said 'Left,' but Aziz turned dutifully right.

As they travelled along the highway towards Baghdad the sun shone from a cloudless sky that would have delighted any tourist board, although the burned-out tanks and the craters in the road might not have been considered obvious attractions. No one spoke as the miles sped by: there was no need for them to go over the plans another time. That would be like an Olympian training on the morning of a race - either too late, or no longer of any value.

For the last ten miles, they joined an expressway that was equal to anything they might have found in Germany. As they crossed a newly reconstructed bridge over the Euphrates, Scott began to wonder how close he was to Hannah, and whether he could get himself into the Foreign Ministry without alerting Kratz, let alone the Iraqis.

When they reached the outskirts of Baghdad, with its glistening skysc.r.a.pers and modern buildings, they could have been entering any major city in the world - until they saw the people. There were lines of cars at petrol pumps in a land where the main a.s.set was oil, but their length was dwarfed only by the queues for food. All four of them could see that sanctions were biting, however much Saddam denied it.

They drove nearer to the city centre, along the road that pa.s.sed under the Al-Naser, the ma.s.sive archway of two crossed swords gripped by casts of Saddam's hand. There was no need to direct Aziz to the Ministry of Industry. He wished he still lived in Baghdad, but he hadn't entered the city since his father had been executed for his part in the failed coup of 1987. Looking out of the window at his countrymen, he could still smell their fear in his nostrils.As they pa.s.sed the bombed-out remains of the Mukhbarat headquarters, Scott noticed an unmanned ambulance parked outside the Iraqi intelligence centre. It was strategically placed for the CNN television cameras rather than for any practical purpose, he suspected, When Aziz saw the Ministry of Industry building looming up ahead of him, he pointed it out to Scott, who remembered the facade from the ma.s.s of photographs supplied by Kratz. But Scott's eyes had moved up to the gun turrets on top of the Foreign Ministry, a mere stone's throw away.

Aziz brought the lorry to a halt a hundred yards beyond the entrance to the Ministry. Scott said, 'I'll be as quick as I can,' as he jumped out of the cab and headed back towards the building.

As he climbed the steps to the Ministry, he did not see a man in a window of the building opposite who was speaking on the telephone to General Hamil.

'The truck has stopped about a hundred metres beyond the Ministry. A tall, fair-haired man who was in the front of the vehicle is now entering the building, but the other three, including Kratz, have remained with the safe.'

Scott pushed through the swing doors and strolled past two guards who looked as if they didn't move more than a few feet every day. He walked over to the information desk and joined the shortest of three queues. The one-handed clock above the desk indicated that it was approximately 9.30.

It took another fifteen minutes before Scott reached the counter. He explained to the girl that his name was Bernstrom and that he needed to see Mr Kajami. 'Do you have an appointment?' she asked. 'No,' said Scott. 'We called from Jordan to warn him that a safe the government had ordered was on its way to Baghdad. He asked us to inform him the moment it armed.'

'I will see if he's in,' said the receptionist. Scott waited, staring up at a ma.s.sive portrait of Saddam Hussein in uniform holding a Kalashnikov. It dominated the otherwise blank grey walls of the reception area.

The girl listened carefully to whoever it was on the other end of the line before saying, 'Someone will be down to see you in a few minutes.' She turned her attention to the next person in the queue.

Scott hung around for another thirty minutes before a tall, thin man wearing a smart Western suit stepped out ofthe lift and walked over to him.

'Mr Bernstrom?'

'Yes?' said Scott, as he swung round to face the man.

'Good morning,' he said confidently in English. 'I am Mr Ibrahim, Mr Kajami's personal a.s.sistant. How can I help you?'

'I have brought a safe from Sweden,' said Scott. 'It was ordered by the Ministry some years ago, but, due to the UN sanctions, could not be delivered any earlier. We were told that when we reached Baghdad we should report to Mr Kajami.'

'Do you have any papers to verify your claim?'

Scott removed a file from his bag and showed Mr Ibrahim its contents.

The man read through each doc.u.ment slowly until he came to the letter signed by the President. He read no further.

Looking up, he asked, 'May I see this safe, Mr Bernstrom?'

'Certainly,' said Scott. 'Please follow me.' He led the official out onto the street and took him over to the truck.

Cohen stared down at them. When Kratz gave the order, he whipped the tarpaulin off the safe so that the civil servant could inspect Madame Bertha for himself.

Scott was fascinated by the fact that those pa.s.sing in the street didn't give the safe a second look. If anything, they quickened their pace. Fear manifested itself among these people by their lack of curiosity.

'Please come with me, Mr Bernstrom,' said Ibrahim. Scott accompanied him back to the reception area, where he returned upstairs without another word.

Scott was left waiting for another thirty minutes before Ibraham came back.

'You are to take the safe to Victory Square, where you will see a barrier with a tank in front of a large white building. They are expecting you.'

Scott was about to ask where Victory Square was when Ibrahim turned and walked away. He went back to the truck, and joined Kratz and Aziz in the front before pa.s.sing on the news. Aziz didn't need to be told the way.

'No special treatment there, I'm glad to see,' said Kratz.

Scott nodded his agreement as Aziz eased the truck back into the road. The traffic was much heavier now. Lorries and cars were honking their horns, managing to move only a few inches at a time.

'It must be an accident,' said Scott, until they turned the corner and saw the three bodies hanging from a makeshift gallows: a man wearing an expensive designer suit, a womanperhaps a little younger, and another much older woman. It was hard to be certain, with their heads shaven.

Mr Kajami sat at his desk, dialled the number that had been pa.s.sed to him, and waited.

'Deputy Foreign Minister's Office, Miss Saib speaking.'

'This is the Minister of Industry calling. Could you put me through to the Deputy Foreign Minister.'

'I'm afraid he's out of the office at the moment, Mr Kajami. Shall I ask him to return your call, or would you like to leave a message?'

'I will leave a message, but perhaps he could also call me when he gets back.'

'Certainly, Minister.'

'Could you let him know that the safe has arrived from Sweden and can therefore be crossed off the sanctions list.'

There was a long pause. 'Are you still there, Miss Saib?'

'Yes. I was just writing down what you said, sir.'

'If he needs to see the relevant forms we still have them at the Ministry, but if it's the safe he wants to check on, it's already on its way to the Ba'ath headquarters.'

'I understand, sir. I'll see he gets the message just as soon as he comes in.'

'Thank you, Miss Saib.'

Kajami replaced the phone on the hook, glanced across his desk at the Deputy Foreign Minister and smiled.

AZIZ BROUGHT THE TRUCK to a halt in front of a tank. A few soldiers were moving around, but there didn't appear to be a great deal of activity.

'I was expecting a bigger show of force than this,' said Kratz. 'It's the Ba'ath Party headquarters, after all.'

'Saddam's probably at the palace, or even out of Baghdad,'

suggested Aziz as two soldiers advanced towards the truck.

The first one shouted 'Out!' and they obeyed slowly. Once all four of them were on the ground, the soldier ordered them to stand a few yards away from the truck while a couple of other soldiers jumped up on the back and removed the tarpaulin.

'This one's a Major,' whispered Aziz as a portly man covered in battle ribbons and carrying a mobile phone advanced towards them. He stopped and looked up at the safe suspiciously before turning to Kratz and introducing himself as Major Saeed.

'Open,' was all he added.

Kratz pointed to Scott, who climbed up onto the back of the lorry while several more soldiers surrounded it to watchhim perform the opening ceremony. Once Scott had pulled the great door open, the Major joined him on the back of the truck, but not until one of the soldiers had given him a hand-up. He stood a pace back and ordered two of his men to go inside. They appeared apprehen- sive at first, but once they had entered the safe they began touching the sides and even jumping up to try to reach the roof. A few moments later, Saeed joined them, and banged the walls with his swagger stick. He then stepped back out, jumped heavily off the truck and turned towards Scott.

'Now we wait for a crane,' he said, sounding a little more friendly. He dialled a number on the phone.

Cohen climbed into the cab and sat behind the wheel, the keys still in the ignition, while Aziz remained on the back with the safe. Scott and Kratz leaned against a wall, trying to appear bored, while having a conversation on the alternatives they now faced.

'We must find some way of getting into the building ahead of the safe,' said Kratz. Scott nodded his agreement.

The clock in Victory Square had struck 12.30 before Aziz spotted the tall, thin structure progressing slowly round the ma.s.sive statue of Saddam. The four of them watched as soldiers ran out into the street to hold up the flow of traffic and allow the vast crane to continue its progress uninterrupted.

Scott explained to the Major that the truck now needed to be moved to a position opposite the front door. He agreed without a phone call. When the truck was parked exactly where Scott wanted it, Major Saeed finally conceded that the doors would have to come off their hinges if they were ever going to get the safe and its trolley inside the building.

This time he did make a phone call, and to Scott's question, 'How long?' he simply shrugged his shoulders and replied, 'Must wait.'

Scott was determined to use the 'must wait' period, and explained to Major Saeed that he needed to walk the route that the safe would travel once they had entered the building.

The Major hesitated, made a further phone call, held on for some time before he received an answer, and then, pointing to Scott, said, 'You, only.'

Scott left Kratz to organise the crane as it prepared to lift the safe off the lorry, and followed the Major into the building.The first thing that Scott noticed as he walked down the carpeted corridor was its width and solid feel. Every few paces there were soldiers lounging against the wall who sprang to attention the moment they saw Major Saeed.

At the end of the corridor was an elevator. The Major produced a key and turned it in a lock on the wall. The doors of the elevator opened slowly. It struck Scott that the size of the safe must have been determined by the width of the lift. He doubted if there would be much more than an inch to spare all round once they had succeeded in getting Madame Bertha on board.

The Major pressed a b.u.t.ton marked '- 6', which, Scott noted, was as far down as they could go. The lift dropped slowly. When the doors opened Scott followed Major Saeed into a long corridor. This time he had the feeling that the pa.s.sageway had been built to survive an earthquake. They came to a halt outside a pair of heavy, reinforced doors, guarded by two soldiers carrying rifles.

Saeed asked a question, and both guards shook their heads.

'The Chamber is empty, so we can go straight through,' he explained, then proceeded to unlock the door. Scott followed him into the Council Chamber.

His eyes searched quickly round the room. The first thing he saw on the far wall was another ma.s.sive portrait of Saddam, this time in a dark double-breasted suit. Then he spotted one of the red alarm b.u.t.tons next to a light switch that Kratz had warned him about. The Major hurried on through the Chamber, giving the impression of a man who hadn't the right to be there, while Scott went as slowly as he felt he could get away with. And then he saw it, just for a moment, and his heart sank: the Declaration of Independence was nailed to the wall, a corner torn and some of the signatures looking distinctly blurred.

The Major unlocked the far door and Scott reluctantly followed him through into the adjoining corridor. They continued for only a few more paces before coming to a halt in front of a ma.s.sive recess of inlaid brick that Scott didn't need to measure to realise had been purpose-built in antic.i.p.ation of the arrival of the safe.

Scott took some time measuring the s.p.a.ce, as he tried to think of how he could get a longer look at the Declaration.

After a few minutes, Major Saeed tapped him on the shoulder with his swagger stick and indicated that it was time for them to return to the courtyard. Scott reluctantly followedhim back down the short corridor, and into the Council Chamber, which the Major scurried through while Scott lingered to measure the doors. He was pleased to discover that they would have to be taken off their hinges. He stood a pace back as if considering the problem. The Major returned and slapped the side of his leg with his swagger stick, muttering something under his breath that Scott suspected wasn't altogether flattering.

Scott stole a glance to the right, and confirmed his worst fears: even if he were able to exchange the two doc.u.ments, it would take an even greater genius than Dollar Bill to repair the damage that Saddam had already inflicted.

'Come. Come. We must go,' said the Major.

'And so must these doors,' said Scott, and turning, added, 'and those two as well,' pointing to the pair at the other end of the Chamber. But Major Saeed was already striding off down the long corridor towards the open lift.

Hannah put the phone down and tried to stop herself trembling. They had warned her many times at Herzliyah that however tough you think you are, and however well trained you've been, you will still tremble.

She checked her watch. Her lunch break was due in twenty minutes, and although she rarely left the building during the day except on official business, she knew she could no longer sit in that office and just wait for events to happen all around her.

The Deputy Foreign Minister had left for the palace at eight that morning, and had told her not to expect him back until five at the earliest. A muscle in her cheek twitched as she began to type out the Minister of Industry's message.

For fifteen minutes, she sat at her desk and planned how the hour could be best spent. As soon as she was clear in her mind what needed to be done, she picked up her phone and asked a girl on the switchboard to cover her calls during the lunch break.