Page 166 - James Caan - The Real Deal

The Real Deal

Britain and Pakistan. I couldn’t believe Scotland Yard was telling
me to pay up. There had to be another way, so I called a Pakistani
friend who worked for one of the major banks and was much
more in tune with Pakistani politics and culture.
‘I think you should give them the money.’
I couldn’t believe he was telling me this, too.
‘And should I call the police?’
‘Absolutely not.’
I didn’t know what to do but I just wanted to do something.
Perhaps I should get on a plane? I called another friend for advice.
‘Don’t do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘How do you know you’re not the real target? You’ve been
featured in the press a few times. Anyone can see you live in a nice
house and drive a nice car. Maybe someone from the community
knows that your father has a wealthy son; maybe they’re actually
targeting you.’
Oh, my God. I hadn’t thought of that. I couldn’t think straight.
Aisha didn’t know what I should do for the best either. Emotion-
ally, I wanted to go to Pakistan and be there for my father because
our weekly phone calls had brought us really close again, but I was
scared that going there would make things worse. Maybe it wasn’t
the right time to leave Aisha and the girls alone.
Nevertheless, the one thing I couldn’t do was nothing, so Adam
and I met at Heathrow the following morning and got on a flight
to Karachi. I called an old family friend who said we could stay
with him, but he was adamant that we mustn’t tell our parents or
anyone else where we were because it was too dangerous.
By the time we landed, the kidnappers had made their demands
and I called Aisha for the figure. For obvious reasons, I don’t want
to reveal the amount they were asking for, but let’s just say it was
significant: a lot of money for the UK, and a fortune for Pakistan.
I hadn’t been in Pakistan since that family holiday in 1971. It was

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