‘This was a nice idea, Ms Gresham.’
‘For heaven’s sakes, Sherman, call me Leanne. My father did, and he never fell off his perch.’
Beck had taken a taxi ten miles south of Langley, McLean, through Fairfax County, to meet Leanne Gresham at a little Italian restaurant on the green outskirts of Annandale. The glare of the sun reflected off the plastic gingham tablecloth. Through the fine old windowpanes of the colonial-style establishment, they could see a quiet road and a tranquil pony ranch.
‘That’s where I used to take my daughter for riding lessons.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘Princeton.’
‘I’m impressed.’
‘Don’t be. She’s studying theology.’
‘Could be useful today.’
‘She thinks it will be even more useful tomorrow. Lord! How things change! I mean what use is theology in a laboratory? When I was growing up, theology was like studying antiquarian bookselling. Fascinating, but strictly for enthusiasts.’
‘As you say, things change.’
‘A law of the universe. And we in the Directorate of Science and Technology have as much trouble with it as anyone else. Take your boss. A fortnight ago, Lee Kellner could hardly bring himself to notice me in the corridor. Now he’s all grace and charm. Makes quite a difference.’
‘I guess he’s suddenly realised your importance.’
‘Well there is a change. And it isn’t just smiles and courtesies. He’s let me in on your story. Even asked me to finish briefing you before we – did you get that? we – go to California.’
‘Is that an order, ma’am?’
‘Objections?’
The question struck Beck as slightly compromising, especially as uttered by Gresham. There was just a hint of seductiveness, a tiny silver sparkle in the air between them.
‘Not at all, ma’am. When duty calls, I follow.’
Gresham smiled. ‘I do believe, Sherman, there’s gallantry in your soul. Don’t blush, honey. Paleness suits you.’
A large Italian lady, singing a Puccini aria to herself, carried two steaming earthenware dishes over to their table, balancing them like the scales of justice.
‘Lasagne!’
‘Thank you.’
‘Grazie, madam. You both order salad.’
‘Yeah. Caesar salad.’
‘Now, if you’ll take your eyes off that woman’s derrière, Sherman, what did you want to know about al-Qasr? He’s quite a looker, you know.’
‘Kellner explained how al-Qasr used a Yezidi deserter for medical experiments at al-Tuwaitha.’
‘Scientists often turn a blind eye to the human dimensions of what they do. I’m not saying this to excuse Dr al-Qasr. I mean, I was as shocked about that as you were. But sometimes the pursuit of knowledge seems to outweigh every other consideration. Did you know that Robert Boyle and Christopher Wren—’
‘Who?’
‘Boyle and Wren. Two English scientists who were around just before Lord Fairfax bought what is now Virginia. Late seventeenth century. Fairfax’s house was where CIA Langley now stands.’
‘So what did Boyle and Wren do?’
‘They were interested in the way blood flows round the body. They understood that the condition of the blood is the clue to identifying illness. You could say these guys were at the root of what became genetic science.’
‘It’s all in the blood.’
‘It’s all in the blood. Anyhow, they drained a dog of all of its blood. Then they took a poor man, got him drunk, bled him, and transfused the dog’s blood into him.’
Beck tried to take the idea in. It didn’t go well with lasagne and salad. ‘Yup. Sounds like science to me.’
‘You get the picture. Well, like the poor sap used by the old scientists in my story, the Yezidi man at the mercy of al-Qasr eventually succumbed.’
‘He murdered him.’
Gresham sighed. ‘I guess so. The next thing is that the Yezidi man’s family petition Saddam as to their relative’s whereabouts. Eventually they’re told he volunteered for the front but was now missing – the usual story given to Iraqi families to explain why sons didn’t come home. Saddam didn’t want anyone to know the full extent of the carnage. Men killed by Iranian bullets and shells were routinely listed as having been transferred to another front. Desperate people will believe anything. Saddam needed new fronts. This partly explains the attack on Kuwait. Also, Saddam owed Kuwait the fifteen billion dollars borrowed to wage war on Iran.’
‘You’re very well informed, Leanne.’
‘Thank your nice Mr Kellner for that.’
‘No one ever called Lee “nice”.’
‘Well, apart from Lee, no one at Langley ever called me “beautiful” either!’
‘Was that appropriate?’
‘Spare me the PC bullshit, Sherman. I’d call it courteous!’
‘Forgive me.’
‘Not at all. I mean, he didn’t pinch my ass or anything!’
Beck laughed. ‘OK. So what about al-Qasr?’
‘Lee’s informant knew – we don’t know how – that al-Qasr’s experimental victim had not returned to the guns and the fury. Apparently, the poor man was just as useful to al-Qasr dead as he had been alive. Al-Qasr had the body stored in a special freezing facility just north of Basra, protected by a missile bunker.’
‘I get it. That’s the place the British hit in 1992. The place mentioned in the informant’s first communication. Makes you wonder what the British knew about it.’
‘Right. All we know is the British Royal Air Force hit the facility in June 1992 as part of its holding operation in the no-fly zone after the end of the Gulf War. And that is when my department first heard of the great Dr Sami al-Qasr’s desire to defect from Saddam. Naturally, we welcomed al-Qasr with open arms.’
‘Why “naturally”?’
‘That’s a very good question, Sherman.’
‘And?’
‘And I’d need clearance from your Mr Kellner to answer that.’
‘Touché.’