The Old Enemy, Henry Porter [important of reading books txt] 📗

anxiety she hadn’t managed to shake off even with therapy.

‘You will recall that I was pursuing a line that connected your husband’s activities in support of Kurdish forces this year to his period as a commander of considerable daring and ruthlessness in the 1980s, when, as a young man, he took part in actions against Saddam Hussein’s forces and was closely associated with the CIA.’

‘That is true,’ said Anastasia. ‘A senior officer testified in a hearing in New York to challenge my husband’s detention by the Immigration and Customs Enforcement two and a half years ago. My husband worked closely with the CIA and during that time was an important ally of America.’

‘But the fact is that ICE lawyers got the wrong massacre in that hearing, and your husband was allowed to walk free. The Agency’s informants made a mistake on the dates and doctored the written evidence as well. Is that true?’

Samson saw Anastasia’s head go down. She said nothing. Had Speight tricked her into believing he was somehow on her side, only to revisit the allegation surrounding the massacre? He was aware of a slight disturbance behind him and looked around to see a tall man, well dressed and with an air of entitlement, moving to two spare seats on the right of the public area. It was Jonathan Mobius, and he was followed by Mila Daus. She was wearing a well-cut two-piece in dark, smoky blue. Samson thought – Berlin Blue.

At that moment, he saw a woman he knew to be working for Zillah Dee leap up and hand something to Daus, who shook her head and gave it back to her. He knew this to be a shiny black Chanel powder compact that would be spirited away for fingerprint analysis. He kept his head down but allowed himself one more look at Daus. She was saying something to Mobius, who nodded and smiled. Then she smiled, closed her eyes and threw her head back. If the circumstances had allowed, there would have been a hearty laugh to accompany all this. Martin Reid had done a good job. They had come to watch the public evisceration of Anastasia and were evidently looking forward to it.

‘In your own time,’ said Speight quietly.

‘Yes, sir, I’m thinking,’ Anastasia replied, and remembered his remark about the silent alliance between bridge partners. ‘Never assume your partner has made a mistake.’ She had no option but to trust him, yet it was a few seconds more before she finally answered his question with a simple, ‘Yes.’ There was a murmur around the room.

‘Thank you for that,’ said Speight, so quietly that the stenographer looked up. ‘Can you tell us exactly what your husband’s involvement was and how that connects to the allegations that he supported the Kurds?’

‘My husband was involved in the execution of forty Iraqi soldiers in early 1995. It’s true that the information provided to the court in New York was erroneous and the evidence brought by ICE, in effect the Department of Homeland Security, was a clumsy forgery. Documents were altered in a font that did not exist at the time of their creation.’ She looked down again. ‘However, I can confirm that my husband took part in a war crime. He was commander of a group operating in Northern Iraq. Forty Iraqi soldiers surrendered to his company and they were all executed.’ Samson caught Daus’s quiet look of triumph.

‘On his orders?’ pressed Speight.

‘Yes, I only learned the full facts after his death.’ She stopped. ‘It explained a lot to me. I believe it weighed on Denis his entire life and was the driver in the enormous amount of charitable work he undertook. I looked at the figures over the weekend. He gave away nearly 3 billion dollars.’

‘And that massacre, that war crime, is why he changed his name from Karim Qasim to Denis Hisami?’

‘Yes, I believe so.’

‘But you say there’s no connection between this atrocity and his recent support for the Kurdish people.’

‘They weren’t motivated by the same fanatical nationalism, if that’s what you intend to imply. The murder of those young men was committed during a fast-moving battle taking place on many fronts.’ She paused. ‘Denis was an American patriot, but he was also Kurd and believed in the right of the Kurdish people to self-determination. After the Kurds helped the US track down Saddam Hussein and successfully fought ISIS, albeit with the loss of eleven thousand lives, America abandoned them to the Turkish forces. Denis believed that the recent attacks by the Turks on Kurdish lands were laying the ground for the genocide of his people, and he decided to do something about it.’

‘He gave his people money.’

‘Yes, for medical supplies and infrastructure.’

‘And weapons?’

She was looking down. ‘Yes.’

‘How much?’

‘From the notes he left, I would estimate it was two hundred million, a quarter of which was designated for medical aid.’

‘And you have learned all this since your husband’s death.’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘I thank you for your candour, Mrs Hisami. This is obviously an extremely difficult time for you.’ As Speight said this, his attention went to Harry Lucas, who was listening to a thin, hawkish-looking man with an entirely bald head. Samson felt his phone vibrate with a message. It was from Zillah: ‘Something’s going down.’

Before he could look up, four men had moved behind Anastasia. She turned her face to them with a look of pure anger. One man had his hand on her shoulder. It was shaken off.

Lucas exploded. ‘This is an outrage. I have to inform members of the Committee that this is Mr Selikoff, the Director of Homeland Security, who informs me he is carrying out an interdiction to arrest our witness and seize material that he claims is vital to national security.’ He stood up and faced him. ‘But this is Congress, sir, and the Executive does not have the power to interrupt proceedings, still less to arrest a witness giving evidence. You will leave this committee room now.’ He pointed to the door.