‘No takers?’

‘Not a bloody sausage,’ said Stanton. ‘Usually in these situations there’s somebody who wants to move to Geneva with a few hundred grand tucked away in his bank account and will turn snitch. They are Arabs after all. They’re not famous for swapping their grandmothers for a new camel for nothing. They tell us where the body is, and we make a discreet payment into a bank account. That’s the way it works. This time around, nothing.’

‘Why not?’

For a moment Stanton looked genuinely puzzled, as if he had asked himself that question, but had yet to figure out a proper answer. ‘You know what, I think they believe they’ve got us on the run,’ he answered eventually. ‘This whole show is being run out of Tehran. The Iranians are desperate to get their hands on the oil fields of southern Iraq, and they know the British can’t hang in there much longer. The trouble is, everyone else wants a piece of that action as well. The oil is the only thing worth having in Iraq. The Kuwaitis are stirring things up, hoping to install their own strongmen in the south. If they get their way, they’ll operate through the locals for a decade or two, then one day you’ll wake up and find Basra is a part of Greater Kuwait. They are smart boys, the emirs, and they play the long game – which is, of course, the only game worth playing in this godforsaken part of the world. Then there is the Sunni up in the middle. That’s Saddam’s old mob, and they need to secure the oil fields as well, since if they don’t get their grubby hands on the oil, the only other alternative is date farming, and there isn’t much money in that.’ Stanton paused, honking furiously at an ancient BMW that was backfiring badly in front of him. ‘So you see, the mullahs in Tehran can’t hang around. They need the British out now so they can get control of the place. They took Katie Dartmouth as just another piece of the campaign, but they aren’t stupid. They read the papers and watch TV, and they can see what an impact it’s all made back in Britain. So they are going to play this one hard, and get the maximum leverage out of it if they can. They can see there is a real chance of concessions, and even if there isn’t, the British position in Basra will still be weakened, and that’s what this is all about.’ He glanced over at Porter. ‘I don’t mean to be negative, and all that. Chin up, et cetera, et cetera.’ He chuckled to himself. ‘But you’ve got more chance of shagging the Ayatollah’s sister than you have of getting Katie Dartmouth out of that hellhole. Come Saturday night, I reckon the pretty head is going to be rolling off the elegant shoulders and all of it live on TV. And what happens then? Fucked if I know. I reckon our beloved leader will be in even deeper trouble than he is already and the boys out in Basra can start emailing their wives and girlfriends to expect them back for Christmas.’