The Reluctant Hero Read Online Free PDF Page B

rarely allowed to escape. Contacts would be maintained, oiled over drinks, meals and many years, particularly with someone as influential as d’Arbois. It would be beneficial to both sides. D’Arbois was renowned for the depth of his connections along the corridors of power and those at the DGSE would want to share them, scratch each other’s backs. Anyway, chances were they’d all gone to school together and slept with each other’s sisters. It was the French way. Since d’Arbois’s retirement from most of his public roles, he had been courted by many private concerns – international companies, defence contractors, financial institutions. Knowledge is profit, and Hervé knew a lot of people. It kept him in cashmere.
    ‘These Central Asian republics are cowboy country,’ he continued. ‘Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and the rest havebecome cheap copies of their old masters in Moscow. They’ve lost their Soviet shackles but not the mindset and dark habits. Mix all that with the oil and gas and other natural resources that have been found in some of these places, and you have the makings of some of the most unappealing regimes in the world. And yet,’ – he paused to sip his coffee – ‘much of this seems to have passed Ta’argistan by. For most people it was little more than miles and miles of barren rock. Then the rumours started to grow. Some new mineral source has been discovered there, so it was said, some fountain of riches that will turn it into the Switzerland of Asia, but . . .’ D’Arbois shrugged. ‘Nothing has come of it. That hasn’t stopped the adventurers and buccaneers circling, of course. Apparently that’s when your friend Zac came into the picture. There was talk he made a personal enemy of the President. I’m not sure, I can only guess, but perhaps he even tried to organize a coup.’
    ‘That doesn’t make sense. A coup? For what possible reason?’
    ‘Who can tell? Ambition, greed, revenge? None of it’s new. Leaders in every country live under threat, sometimes from unlikely sources. As for Ta’argistan, it may be an inhospitable jumble of rocks but they’ve been fighting over it for a thousand years, tribe against tribe, khan against khan. Throw in the possibility of oil or gas or gold . . .’ He spread his gloved hands.‘Anything could happen. And does.’
    Harry frowned, trying to follow this through. ‘Will they put him on trial?’
    ‘Why should they?’
    ‘To make an example of him. Discourage others.’
    ‘Believe me, if they dragged everyone suspected of malevolence to the dock, it would become their leading industry. No, they manage these things in the shadows. They prefer the dark ways. They don’t have to fry testicles in Victory Square to prove their point.’
    ‘But won’t the US government help?’
    D’Arbois shook his head. ‘Did the British government help when the son of Margaret Thatcher got himself involved in some ridiculous coup in Africa? No, not even then. Such matters are too embarrassing. It’s better to look the other way. Move on.’
    ‘To the next fuck-up.’
    ‘Leave the bodies behind.’ The Frenchman uttered the words quietly.
    That had never been Harry’s way. He’d once carried a dying colleague for two days on his back through the Iraqi desert. You didn’t leave your mates behind, particularly mates like Zac. ‘I want to help him,’ he replied.
    ‘Too late. He’s beyond help. It’s possible he is no longer alive.’
    ‘But I owe him.’
    ‘Your loyalty is admirable, my friend, but in this case I fear it is misplaced. Zac Kravitz is one of those unfortunates who has dropped through the drain of history. You owe him nothing. Enjoy yourself. Celebrate the New Year. Put all this behind you. I should never have mentioned it.’
    Celebrate. Forget. So I called to the barman to pour me another . . .
    ‘There is nothing for you in Ta’argistan,’ d’Arbois insisted