Deni Salamov must pay for what he’s done. The words had become a refrain that cascaded through Ziad’s mind, bringing with them a storm of anger which swept away all other emotions. Sometimes the words would rise unbidden. Other times they would come from Elroy Lang. Ziad knew what his companion was doing, stoking his hatred of the man who’d sent him to Al Aqarab. But he didn’t mind. In his quiet moments, often when he was on the cusp of sleep, Ziad felt cloying guilt at the lives he’d taken during their escape. Some of those men had been evil, but not all, and who was he to have become their executioner? His nightmares were plagued by visions of the men rasping and choking out their final moments, so he embraced his righteous fury at every opportunity. His anger left no place for guilt.
Ziad and Elroy had been met outside the prison by a wiry Thai man who’d been introduced as Awut. The man had driven them across Cairo in an old Fiat and taken them to a safe house where they’d stayed the night before starting their week-long journey to America. Elroy had said little about himself other than to reveal that he worked for a group that wanted to revolutionize the drugs trade on the Pacific Coast. This meant they had a mutual interest in the fall of Deni Salamov. Having abandoned all hope of vengeance inside Al Aqarab, Ziad was surprised at how quickly and powerfully the old fire was rekindled.
It took them seven days and numerous false passports to reach Seattle. The people Elroy worked for must have been well connected because they arrived on the West Coast without incident. Elroy took them to a three-bedroom house on Kenyon Street, in South Park, a run-down neighbourhood a couple of miles south of Seattle Port. It was a tumbledown wooden house on the kind of impoverished street where people knew it was better for their health to mind their own business. Elroy had spent their first evening quizzing Ziad about Deni’s operation, confirming things he already knew, probing for details he didn’t.
The next day, Elroy had gone out before Ziad was up and hadn’t returned until the evening. Ziad had kicked around the house, watching TV, while Awut, the silent Thai sentinel, padded around the place like a caged tiger.
When Elroy finally returned, he said, ‘There’s something you need to see, Ziad.’
He took Ziad across town in a dilapidated Buick. Ziad felt a flush of humiliation and panic when he realized where he was being taken. They went to Point Edwards, to the condo where Essi Salamov lived. Deni Salamov’s daughter had been the love of Ziad’s life and being this close to her home pained him.
‘Why are we here?’ Ziad asked as they rolled to a halt across the street from Essi’s building.
‘You need to see what they’ve been doing while they left you to rot in prison,’ Elroy replied. ‘It’s important you know. It will carry you through the difficult times ahead.’
Ziad watched the building with a growing sense of dread. He knew what was coming, and as much as the prospect horrified him, he simply couldn’t look away. He had to see it, he had to take in the scale of his betrayal. He kidded himself he was prepared for anything, but when Essi finally left her building arm in arm with another man, Ziad felt as though a giant hole had been torn in his guts. The hollow pain was made worse by the fact he recognized this tall white guy; his chiselled jawline and his tight frame like that of a long-distance athlete. He flashed a bright mouthful of perfect teeth at Essi, and his short brown hair fluttered in the ocean breeze, giving him a fun, impetuous air, when in reality he was a corrupt, greedy man. His name was Jack Gray and he was Deni Salamov’s lawyer, but tonight he and Essi looked like a couple of catalogue models, smiling and chatting in groomed perfection. As they crossed the parking lot towards a black Porsche 911, Ziad pictured himself smashing the man’s perfect teeth with a brick and drilling a couple of holes through his skull. Why not? He was a murderer now. A mass murderer with all the bodies of Al Aqarab to his name.
‘Follow them,’ Ziad said.
‘We can’t do anything to him,’ Elroy replied. ‘Not yet.’
Ziad flushed crimson. The fact this relative stranger was witness to the betrayal made it even more shameful.
‘Follow them,’ Ziad repeated through gritted teeth. ‘I have to see this.’
The first heavy raindrops burst on the road as the Porsche left the parking lot. Elroy gave Ziad a sympathetic glance before he put the car in gear and followed.