‘The Chinese are our friends.’
The Chinese had no friends, in Tamara’s opinion. They had clients and debtors. But she did not want to argue with Karim. He was a conservative old man who would only take so much from a girl. ‘That’s something to be grateful for,’ she said, trying to make it sound sincere. ‘And I’m sure you’ll urge caution.’
He looked smug. ‘I always do. Don’t worry. It will be all right.’
‘Inshallah,’ said Tamara. ‘God willing.’
*
The next day, towards the end of the afternoon, CNN began to report a serious fire in Port Sudan, the unimaginatively named major port in Sudan. Ships in the Red Sea had first reported the fire, said CNN. They broadcast a crackly radio interview with the captain of an oil tanker who had decided to stand offshore while he tried to find out whether it was safe to enter the harbour. There was a huge cloud of blue-grey smoke, he said.
Virtually all Sudan’s oil was exported from Port Sudan. Most of it arrived through a thousand-mile pipeline that was majority-owned and operated by the China National Petroleum Corporation. The Chinese had also built a refinery, and they were in the process of creating a new multi-billion-dollar tanker dock.
The CNN report was followed by a government announcement that the fire service expected to have the blaze under control shortly, which meant it was out of control, and that a full investigation would be carried out, which meant they had no idea what had caused it. Tamara had a dark suspicion in the back of her mind that she did not yet voice to anyone.
She began to monitor the jihadi websites, the ones that celebrated beheadings and kidnappings. On her first sweep they were all quiet.
She called Colonel Marcus and asked: ‘Do you have any satellite of Port Sudan just before the fire?’
‘Probably,’ said Susan. ‘There’s never much cloud over that part of the globe. What time frame?’
‘CNN reported it around four thirty, and there was already a pall of smoke . . .’
‘Three thirty or earlier, then. I’ll take a look. What do you suspect?’
‘I don’t really know. Something.’
‘Fair enough.’
Tamara called Tab at the French embassy. ‘What do you know about the fire at Port Sudan?’
‘Only what’s on TV,’ he said. ‘I love you too, by the way.’
She stifled a giggle. In a lowered voice she said: ‘Knock it off. I’m in an open-plan office.’
‘Sorry.’
‘I told you last night what I’m afraid of.’
‘You mean the revenge theory.’
‘Yes.’
‘You think this could be it?’
‘I do.’
‘There’ll be trouble.’
‘You bet your sweet ass.’ She hung up.
No one but Tamara was worried about this, and, around five o’clock, people started to drift away from their desks.
Soon afterwards the government in Khartoum, Sudan’s capital, added to their original announcement, saying that some twenty people had been rescued from the fire, including four Chinese engineers who had been working on the construction of the new dock. Some Chinese women and children, the families of the engineers, had also been rescued. CNN explained that the dock was being built with Chinese expertise as well as money, and that something like a hundred Chinese engineers were involved in the project. Tamara wondered about the people who had not been rescued.
Still there was no suggestion of sabotage, and Tamara was beginning to hope that this would turn out to be a genuine accident, with no political implications.
She scanned the web again, and this time she stopped at a site operated by a group calling itself Salafi Jihadi Sudan. She had not heard of them before. The group condemned the backsliding government of Sudan, especially as symbolized by the corrupt Chinese-led tanker dock project. It congratulated heroic SJS fighters for bringing off today’s attack.
Tamara called Susan, who said: ‘It was my fucking drone – the one that went missing.’
‘Shit.’
‘It dropped bombs on the refinery and the half-built new dock, then crashed.’
‘Chinese engineers were building that dock.’
‘They struck at thirteen twenty-one.’
‘An American drone has killed Chinese engineers. There’s going to be hell to pay.’
Tamara hung up then sent Dexter the link to the SJS site. She sent the same to Tab.
Then she sat back and thought: What will the Chinese do now?
CHAPTER 24