The Rift by Rachel Lynch (good book recommendations txt) 📕

operation won’t be compromised. There are certain elements inside the French authorities who use excessive force,’ Fawaz said.

‘You know that well, Fawaz – I was truly sorry for the loss of Rafik,’ Khalil said. Grant heard genuine solicitude in Khalil’s voice.

Fawaz wavered. Khalil had hit a nerve. ‘If the operation is put at risk, then, I’m afraid that the life of your son, like that of my own was, will become collateral damage. There is only one way to make sure this doesn’t happen: you must find a way to refocus the inquiry by Interpol.’ Then he hung up.

Khalil stared at the phone. Grant took it off him.

‘We need to keep this because a signal might still be traced from it. It could help locate Fawaz in the future if all else fails.’

‘You mean if Hakim dies and I no longer play by his rules?’ Khalil asked.

Grant looked him in the eye and nodded. Khalil looked broken.

‘Do you think this is all about his son?’ Grant asked.

‘I don’t know. Fawaz never took responsibility for Rafik’s death: the fact that he was working for his own father when he died. The body was never returned. It is the highest insult when a father cannot give his son his burial rites. I cannot imagine his pain.’

‘So, he takes your son to replace his? An eye for an eye? So why go to all the trouble of using your ships and creating a circus? There’s something more.’

Grant’s personal phone buzzed, and it was the concierge informing them that their car for the airport was here.

‘I’m coming with you and I’ll find out what’s in my containers,’ Khalil said.

Grant nodded and went to the door. Fawaz hadn’t told them the name of the woman he was so concerned about, but that could wait. Khalil was close to giving up. ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

‘Perhaps it’s time to tell your Interpol lady the truth,’ Khalil said.

Chapter 33

The lights of Lyon burned brightly beyond the Interpol building. Helen was weary, but she had the two suspects still to interview. She went to see Peter Knowles, and found him also still at his desk. The identification of Ahmad Azzine and the connection to her case had created quite a flurry of excitement in the headquarters.

‘He’s been on a red notice for the best part of five years, since the arrest and detention of Rafik bin Nabil. It’s a huge step forward, Helen – massive congratulations.’

‘It was Sylvia who spotted him,’ she said.

He nodded. ‘So, about your two unknowns who were arrested today, where are they being interviewed? Please don’t set up anything until you’ve got a secure connection to my office – I want to be involved.’

‘Of course, Peter. Did you say Rafik bin Nabil? As in Fawaz bin Nabil’s son?’

‘Yes, he was arrested five years ago in London on terrorism charges. The Home Office deported him back to Morocco where he died in custody, sadly.’

‘I did come across that in my research into Nabil Tradings. How did he die?’

‘The Home Office wrote to the Moroccan authorities, who were vague. As soon as a suspect leaves our soil, they no longer come under our authority, and so I’m not sure we ever got an answer. I was working in London at the time. The thing is, with some countries, you can never be sure about the intelligence regarding penal affairs. There are accusations of torture going on all over Africa. You never know, he might be alive and well with his father.’

Helen was surprised at Peter’s nonchalance. The file she’d read stated very clearly that Rafik was dead. Fawaz’s son had now popped up more than circumstantially. Helen believed that it was enough to explain any man’s hatred for a system that protected those responsible for his death, but Rafik had died in Morocco, not Europe. She cast her mind back to the then Home Secretary, the now current prime minister. She shelved the information.

‘So, how is he linked to Ahmad Azzine?’ Helen asked.

‘He was the one who gave us Azzine’s name under interrogation,’ Peter said, leaning on the side of his desk. ‘Before he was deported, of course.’

‘Why was he deported if he was so valuable?’ she asked.

Peter looked at her. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Aren’t terror suspects held and tried in the same country as their crimes? Isn’t that the whole point? To serve as an example? I heard it was their worst nightmare to be incarcerated in the UK or the US. Surely sending him home must have been part of a deal?’

‘Maybe it was,’ Peter said.

‘Peter…’ she began. He busied himself with his computer screen and she approached his desk.

‘Hmm?’ he looked up.

‘Could you access the Home Office file on his deportation?’

He sat back and crossed his fingers together like a bridge. Helen got the impression that he was studying her.

‘Why?’

‘Isn’t it enough that we were responsible for sending Rafik to his death? And here we have an associate closely linked to those responsible for Hakim’s abduction, as well as evidence that Azzine might have been – and still could be – working for Fawaz?’

‘But what evidence do we have that any of this is linked to Fawaz?’ Peter asked.

‘Surely we should find out?’ She was losing patience and it showed in her voice. She apologised. ‘I’m hoping that I’ll get a positive ID from the two suspects in custody for “Sand Cat”. If he’s at the centre of it and Fawaz’s son gave up his name under duress, then we can’t ignore it,’ she said.

‘Be careful, Great Britain signed the Geneva Convention. We don’t torture.’

‘Of course we don’t,’ she said. ‘But anyone who loses a child like that – in any way – would want revenge, wouldn’t he?’ she added. She thought about the trading name of the company in Berkeley Square, London. Something made her hold off telling Peter. His area was counter terrorism not fraud. Perhaps she should run it by Sir Conrad?

She could tell that Peter was a man who needed