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yelling ‘innocent, innocent,’ and all sorts of name calling and insults. Soldiers shouted over the lot and it was just a mess, English and Arabic, accents, crying, screaming. Hell, it was just mad.
    “And Eric, his gun pointed from one to another, watching for danger. They took the men over to Joe and I saw them look at that flag on his chest, half picked off, flapping as Joe moved. The men were shoved down to their knees in front of him and they babbled through a barrage of questions.
    “I saw Joe lift his head to the sky. I’d seen him do that before, like he was looking for some quiet to think. As I looked round again, I saw a young boy, about ten years old maybe, come running out from the building, a gun, a damn big one, to his shoulder.”
    The soldier moved his hands away from the cup and his fingers clenched.
    “Above everything else, I heard the boy. I heard one word – Papa.
    “He pointed his gun at Eric. Next to him, Joe froze. Eric’s gun pointed at the boy. His head cocked to one side, his eyes staring down the sights. I pointed my gun at the boy. But, y’know, he was a boy , like Eric’s little brother, playing at being a soldier.
    “Eric moved sideways, away from Joe, and the gun in the boy’s hands, a full-sized gun, not a toy, followed him. It was like slow motion and we all seemed to pause forever.
    “Then one person shot.” He shrugged. “Then everyone did. I fell to the floor, trying to pick out what was happening through all the dust and noise and bodies everywhere, trying not to hit my own men.
    “And as quick as it had started, it stopped. And the shouting and screaming stopped and there was this, this kind of stillness. Everything was a mess. I couldn’t work out what had happened; who’d shot first, who’d shot who. I didn’t dare count the bodies. I looked for my men, and I saw the boy and Eric. Both down. But Joe, he was still standing, he was still alive.”
    All this time I’d been watching his hands and his fingers, his untouched coffee going cold in front of him. And now I felt him look at me, and I lifted my head and saw his eyes, his bright blue eyes, and now they held mine as he spoke. And I blinked and the tears ran down my cheeks, but still this soldier held my gaze now. And through the blurriness I saw his mouth tremble, I saw him try to swallow his emotion and I saw him blink away what I felt sure were tears.
    This soldier.
    “Joe stood up. I shouted at him to get down and take cover but he ignored me. He looked to the boy, then to Eric, and back again. Everyone was shouting at him to get down, but he looked torn, like he didn’t know which way to go. And I’m shouting at the top of my lungs. But he walked, just walked, really calmly, to Eric.
    “I should’ve run to him, I know I should’ve. I should’ve knocked him flat but I just stood there shouting at him to get down.”
    He paused and took a breath.
    “He walked all the way over to Eric, calmly as anything, and knelt down next to him. I started running towards him, saw him put his hand on Eric’s chest and look up to the sky. And then…” His voice lowered. “There was a shot. One single shot and he was down… “He died as I reached him,” the soldier whispered. “It hit him…” I watched him close his eyes, watched his trembling hand lift and his fingers tap his head. “I held him then. I held him while he died.”
    I saw the blood on the soldier’s jacket again, and I knew then, that it was Papa’s blood.
    My papa’s blood.

Whatever happened to Sacha? Part I
    O CTOBER 1999
    Sacha saw the car outside, waiting. Two men standing next to it. She knew who they were, that they had come for her. And she knew that the short walk out of the front doors of the law firm would be the last she would take in freedom for a long time.
    In the middle of the foyer her feet paused and she thought for a moment. What could she do? Where could she go? What options did she have?
    And she realised she had