The Old Enemy by Henry Porter (read with me .TXT) 📕

son to make up for the loss of their boy and only child in a motorbike accident. And fortune had smiled materially on the poor mountain farmers in the shape of a new barn, tractor and trailer. She wondered if Denis had had anything to do with that. Generous gifts indeed, but ones that also ensured their silence about his presence at the farm that night when he’d saved all their lives and killed three terrorists. That was the way Denis worked.

They dined on Irina’s stew and drank her family’s wine. Luka decided to remain in Pudnik, so it was the five of them, each one of whom must, in some way, be remembering when they were all together before. But no one brought it up, and Naji and she were certainly not anxious to discuss the other drama in their shared history – Narva Bridge.

She watched Naji closely, remembering his ability as a boy to lie and deceive. He’d look you in the face and say he wouldn’t dream of breaking out of the camp and straight away go and do precisely that. From his time being driven round in the back of a pickup by some of the most depraved individuals in ISIS, he had learned to shut down, suspend all scruples and judgement. He survived by denial and by internalising the most dreadful things any human, let alone a young boy, could witness. If Naji didn’t want to tell you something, there was never a way of getting it out of him. But she had to make him talk. Their survival depended on it.

After dinner they went to sit on the narrow sheltered walkway outside, and Anastasia accepted one of Darko’s cigarettes, much to Naji’s disgust. Darko hobbled off to get slivovitz and Ifkar went down to feed the puppies.

She smoked and looked at him without saying anything. He shifted uncomfortably, but she kept silent. She finished the cigarette and took her time stubbing it out, all the while looking at him. Then she smiled. ‘Berlin Blue Pitch Black, Pearl Grey Saffron . . . do you want me to go on?’

He said nothing.

‘Oh, come on, Naj! Samson found these names on a whiteboard in London. They were in Denis’s briefcase, too. Samson saw you in the building, for fuck’s sake!’

This surprised him, but he didn’t react. ‘Naji, I was there when they tried to kill Denis and murdered his lawyer. Denis was probably about to tell the committee something, and you know what it is. Come on, spit it out.’

‘I cannot speak about it now.’

She was angry and let him see it. ‘This is no game. I need to know what you’ve been doing. Do you want me killed? Samson, too?’

‘Of course not.’

‘I have to know. Will you come with me to Estonia tomorrow?’

He gave her one of his withering looks. ‘I am going for Mr Harland’s funeral – yes. I have a ticket.’

‘To Tallinn from Skopje via Belgrade tomorrow?’

‘Of course – this is only way.’

‘Good, then we will travel together.’ Naji gave her a look that suggested he had been asked to escort an elderly maiden aunt. She ignored his reaction, because something had just occurred to her. ‘Was Denis giving you money?’

‘Of course, I have to pay for my family.’ Naji was an entrepreneur. He had started several businesses – mending telephones and selling vegetables and second-hand trainers from a cart in Syria – all to help his family. He would have driven a hard bargain for his services, and Denis would have approved of that and the way he’d kept everything going for the Toumas after his father had been effectively disabled by the Syrian-government torturers. ‘Did you meet my husband?’ she said suddenly.

A sly little look entered his eyes. ‘Yes, down there,’ he said, pointing to where the old barn had stood.

‘Stop it! Stop thinking you can play me, Naj. Did you meet Denis when he visited Robert Harland in Tallinn? Were you there?’

‘Yes.’

‘So you three made the plans together, but you were the one who was finding the evidence for them. You were their main investigator. What were you doing, hacking someone’s system?’ It was as if she wasn’t even talking. ‘You know, you can be pretty rude, Naji. You have quite an attitude there.’

‘I do not mean to offend,’ he said, more as a matter of fact than an apology. His attention had gone to the yard, where the puppies were being exercised before being shut up for the night. ‘You lead such different lives now, you at the university and Ifkar here on the farm with all the animals.’

He turned to face her. ‘Our lives are not so different. He lives under the stars. I live amongst them.’

‘It’s corny, but I like it,’ she said. His gaze returned to Ifkar, who had run into the centre of the yard and stood with his hands on his hips, looking north towards the distant glow of Pudnik. On one of the tracks that led to the farm, the lights from a single vehicle were moving slowly and gingerly, as if the driver didn’t know the way, or was worried about the ruts. It wasn’t Luka, because he’d phoned earlier to say he would eat in town and see Anastasia at seven the next morning. Ifkar backed towards the steps and came up to where they were sitting, never losing sight of the lights. He spoke rapidly to Naji, who said, ‘Ifkar thinks you’ve been followed here. He knows you are in danger. I told him.’

‘Maybe you, too, Naji.’

‘Not possible. They do not know about Naji Touma.’

Ifkar brushed past them and seconds later returned with a new hunting rifle that was fitted with a telescopic sight and a small magazine. He raised it to watch the vehicle through the scope and muttered to himself. Now Darko was on the walkway, brandishing an older rifle and a handgun. Irina emerged with a fierce look on her face and, although she was the worse for wear after dinner, he