‘Alice?’
‘At your command, General,’ she said, turned to him and stopped putting the disarray in order.
‘A while ago you mentioned something specific. I didn’t pay enough attention to it at first, but it just came back to me. What did you see that day?’
‘I saw a few big TIRS[7] loaded with weapons and ammunitions and on a separate TIR, according to the words of the stewards who supervised the loading operations, there were fast air attack costumes. Those were parachuteless outfits with wings made of fabric. To open them you have to spread your legs and arms apart, so that they take on the form of the so called wingsuit outfits for cliff jumping. I’d seen such things before. Years ago we were trained in skydiving in an English base. They showed us something similar, but a simpler version of this. You put it on and you look like a flying squirrel,’ Alice said and laughed. ‘It’s easy to maneuver and you can fly for some time before deploying the parachute. I never tried it anyway. I think these suits are quite interesting, but those I saw at the German base were different–they had a different landing mechanism. I didn’t stay to hear the rest of it because we had to head for the halls,’ she reported at length.
‘I want them whatever the cost. They would be of good use to our cause,’ he uttered and the pictures came in the next instant. He opened the folder on the display of the phone and saw hundreds of images of most of Europe’s ammunition supply warehouses. The reply of his colleague Farooq was quite exhaustive. There were photos galore, but only a few particular ones were truly important to them. He started swiping across the display to see the images and shortly after managed to find that of the largest supply warehouse in Germany. The same one he was briefed about earlier on. He examined a few of the files and noticed the place was equipped with an airport of its own.
‘Can we somehow provide a cargo jet with a valid NATO registration?’ the Iranian Officer asked.
‘Everything is possible nowadays as long as we have the money. We’ll have someone steal it for us without anyone noticing,’ Alice stated confidently.
‘All right, that might not prove as difficult as I thought. What I want you to do is design a plan of action that involves such kind of means of transportation, but you need to first take a good look at the photos. I need to go out and take care of something important,’ he said as he stood up and prepared for leaving while the dark-haired beauty occupied his seat and started working on the task at hand. Before going out of the room, Saadi paused for a while, thought for a few seconds and turned around. He slowly approached the woman and sat on his desk dressed in his military Mackintosh.
‘Are you staying close by?’ asked the uniformed man.
‘Yes, it’s about 20 minutes away by car. Why?’ asked puzzled the English beauty.
‘I think it would be more prudent for you to go. If anyone sees you sitting in my chair, rummaging through my papers, nothing good will come out of it. Take whatever you need and I’ll give you a ride. Get ready so I can lock the door,’ he instructed.
Alice gathered a few pictures and two folders containing important information, put on her overcoat and walked out of the office. Omar locked the door and the two headed for his automobile. They got in and at the same instant the lady’s phone rang. They got a bit startled. It was only natural, after all they were enmeshed in all sorts of illegal affairs that could literally tighten the noose around their necks. She looked at her phone and relaxed, then put the device against her ear.
‘If only you knew what a scare you gave us, Milev, we exchanged an old-dog look,’ she laughed out loud, making even the somber associate sitting next to her smile.
‘Hey, paranoid heads, you’ll give yourselves away! I wanted to know if you two manage to find a way to get along,’ inquired the Balkan.
‘Yes, everything is going fine, we’re working on the matter.’
‘All right, keep it going in the same vein. I’ll be with you in two days’ time, bringing a present. Follow the plan and get down to organizing everything. Money won’t be an issue, you need to be ready by the time I’m back,’ Dimitar said and hung up as he liked to do every time, not giving the other party time to react.
‘Some terrorists we are, total chickens!’ the General said and both passengers in the car burst out laughing. The situation looked funny and tragic because it was absolutely possible for someone to sniff the conspiracy they were into.
Eventually they set off for the hotel. After a short drive along the capital’s streets they arrived at the place safe and sound. Alice tried to open the door, but the car purposefully had central locking. Then she looked at Saadi’s left side as he was sitting quiet and pensive. Something seemed not to be all right. He turned his gaze to her slowly and began talking in a way that would stress her further.
‘I don’t know what your exact motives to be with us are, neither can I fathom them. I’m not interested anyway, but know this: I still don’t trust you. Now listen to me carefully and look me in the eye,’ he said, closing the distance between them to a nose-length space which let her see his fury-impregnated blood-shot eyes. At that very instant she felt his words were no joke at all. ‘Look me in the eye, look deep, I want you to feel the meaning of what I’m about to tell you. Despite the fact that so far there is every indication we’ll get along just fine, I firmly wish you to remember something right from the start: if you dare betray us or if the two of you are playing some kind of a game, I’ll find out. And when I find out, I will hunt down not only you two, but all of you relatives and acquaintances down to the last one. I will wipe you and everything about you out of existence,’ Omar said through gritted teeth, ready to sow vengeance like never before, not even having first reaped victory or defeat.
Probably his concerns came too much to him and he could find no rest, but who could blame him given the risk he was taking. The tender brunette managed to choke back her fear-laden tears. She knew he was terribly serious, because he sounded like a total madman. Judging from what she saw in him, he was a person anything could be expected from. She just gave a nod in response as she kept looking into the large red eyes that stood out against his swarthy face. Suddenly the doors unlocked and Ms. Springer rushed out of the car, almost forgetting to take a breath, horrified as she was. She felt as though she was threatened with murder for no reason. But that incident had to in no way dissuade her from participating, on the contrary, those powerful words even enhanced her motivation to prove her worth to both her partners . . .
Her intimidating accomplice took off for a place that no sane person in the city would head for, situated in the south of Tehran. The ghetto was one of the cities’ and the also the country’s landmarks. The extreme poverty coupled with the low hygiene made the sight horrendous. Children wandered around naked and barefoot, unsupervised and begged money from whoever they came across who was dressed differently and had their stomachs full. The women prostituted themselves and the men clustered together to prowl some unsuspecting victim. The police presence was increased, but the crime rate was accelerating like bacteria multiplying in a sick organism in the dark corners of tall buildings. The law enforcement did not manage to deal with most of the illegal activities and did not even pay attention to a prostituting woman or a man holding a knife who was ready to jump and mug some passer-by because there were more important things to surveil. In other words the overall picture showed a decaying society living on the brink of a possible civil war. The police and the military followed the outbreak of civil disobedience and the organization of groups which could lead to an escalation in the tensions among the peacefully protesting. Everything else was shelved and deemed of no interest once a group chanting for justice and ordinary humanly treatment on part of those in power walked past. The organization of rallies in this particular region was lawful. They were allowed only in concrete places; the wealthy north part of the city had to remain untouched by them. Everyone who flouted the law got arrested and beaten to death. Of course, there was no trace of tha
t picture-spoiling view of the contemporary society in the areas where the rich and more affluent members of the population lived. That had its purpose. No one would feel any pity for the wretched and the poor, protesting for a morsel of bread and a slightly better life unless the scene unfolded right in front of their door. And so the citizens dwelling in the same city looked upon one another as though they lived on different planets and not a soul from the north wanted to know a thing about his neighbor, they were interested only in themselves. The media announced such atrocities which were left with no consequence. Whatever they said about the miserly part of the population, their calamities remained in the shades. It was a vicious circle in which everyone was on the losing side.
Omar pulled his car to a stop right before he crossed the gates of Hell itself. That was a precaution against possible theft or a violent outburst directed at the vehicle. Right at that moment rain came pouring down, dark as the sky had grown, and it became clear it was going to last all day long. He put on his Mackintosh and a stormy kromer so he did not get recognized in the crowd. He did not forget to take another thing just in case, his pistol–he put it in his shoulder holster so as to hide it. Light and cool rain showered the Iranian as he was nearing the intended destination. The scent of rain in February along with a temperature of 15o C was a sheer delight for the lovers of fresh air. The deeper he went into that God- and people forsaken territory, he felt more and more palpably that someone was constantly watching and appraising him. He kept walking straight on without a thought of looking back and showing fear. Broken sidewalk paving stones, mud spurting from their joints and filling the puddle were just an additional element in the overall picture. A child dressed in an A-shirt and underpants, barefoot, shivering and soaked to the bone approached him, giving him a doleful look. It unfolded its palm and stretched its arm out, wishing to be helped with something, with anything. Omar fixed his look on the child for a while as he was moving forward, but quickened his pace, gritting his teeth afraid his feelings could otherwise betray him. He did not have to help anyone, nor show any emotion, otherwise he would be exposed as an outsider and would quickly get mugged or stabbed to death by someone in the multitude of people under the rain. He felt sorry on the inside, yet strode on with a stone face through the raindrops in the ocean of women who offered themselves to him for free and of crying children who scuttled at his heels. In addition, the trash scattered all over the muddy streets lent it an even more obtrusive sense of death–not at all surprising given the outbreaks of new diseases that came in gradual waves; the evidence for that lied on the other side of the street–a motionless corpse of a woman with red rashes. No one had wished to touch or go near her, even the EMTs.
Such a scene could only be described by an artist who had taken part in the World War II more than 180 years ago. The beauty had gone away more than a decade ago, that was the situation in most of the big cities. The tall and elegant buildings could not make up for the sorrow in people’s eyes and the same majestic titans were abandoned and served to house the bums and drug addicts. The constructions towered over us like grave stones reflecting the grief of our dying society. Suddenly the General saw how a dozen feet ahead of him a man lying in a coffin was pulled out of a block of flats. The people were headed to a burial. That was the only thing the relatives of the late man could do. As he passed by the grieving lot, he overheard what the reason about the tragedy was. The wretched soul had hung himself because of debts he could not pay and because he could no longer provide for his family. An act of desperation, unjustified in Omar’s book, and not only, for that was a sheer display of weakness that did not resolve anything, yet only hammered in deeper the problems of the late man.
Twenty minutes of walking took the officer to his intended destination. He was standing in front of a comparatively tall abandoned building with a ground floor. Voices were coming out of it. Omar took a good look of it exterior. His eyes stopped at the doors and the windows, he examined them from bottom to top. He went over to the door that was the building’s entrance point where he could hear a noise that sounded like a conversation. General Saadi raised his hand, reached out and knocked four or five times. The noise died down altogether. He waited for a moment and seconds later the door opened at once. A fat, insolent man enveloped in a cloud of smoke appeared.
‘Who are ya, whatcha want?’ he asked arrogantly and sized Omar up.
‘Nobody, I’m nobody, just an acquaintance of Heffer. Is he here, can I see him?’ he said, acting looney as he skillfully got into his role.
‘He’s here, want me to get him for ya?’
‘Yes, if it’s no bother, I won’t take him long,’ the General replied.
‘Wait here and don’t ya dare move ‘cause I’ll find ya and slap ya good, ya know,’ his compatriot threatened him and went back in, yanking the door.
Saadi took the man’s treatment with equanimity, moved to the side and stood close to the wall. He leaned his back on it and let his hat drop down and hide his eyes. While he was making himself comfortable the door opened. The man that appeared from inside of the flat saw no one and so decided to step out and look around. Out came a man of about forty years of age, tough and still in the prime of his life. He was of medium height, with round face that bore a scar–both menacing and sympathy-inspiring–and went all the way up across his face, starting at the left corner of his mouth and going diagonally up over his nose and his lost eye, reaching his right eyebrow. Branded by that ugly scar, he kept it skillfully concealed behind locks of curly hair that fell down to his neck. A wound that had hurt him physically as much as mentally.
‘Hello, Heffer,’ the Iranian officer greeted.
The man approached him, but he would not move out of his initially adopted posture. He looked at him and abruptly took his hat off. Omar lifted his gaze slowly and their eyes met. They kept their gazes locked for a few seconds and the one-eyed man turned around and headed back to the door. Omar reached out for him and took him by the arm. Heffer stopped, yet kept his eyes looking the other way.
‘Brother, please, stop!’ the officer implored.
Silence fell over them and Heffer broke the hold on his arm. The scarred man turned to him and they stood there face to face. Only Heffer’s eyes did not look at the same direction. They had dropped down to the General’s feet and his face was barely visible wrapped behind the shocks of hair. Not long after that his first words spilled out of his mouth.
‘Brother? I have no brother! He died a long time ago.’
‘What died was your love for people and I was part of them. You may act as though I don’t exist or as if you’ve given up on me, but I’ll never stop loving you. We’ll always have the same blood running through our veins–blood is thicker than water,’ Omar uttered, lump in his throat, in time with the raindrops trickling down his face. Whether that water was a pure product of nature or it came from another, more personal place was of no importance, moreover it was difficult for one to say. Both types of drops were going to wash the same sad male face.
‘You may excuse yourself as much as you like, but you won’t erase the memory of what you did to me. That ugly wound that you’re facing right now and that can’t even see you because it has one eye out. Still it remains in the form of a memory, as a testimony of your actions that carved a wound in my soul,’ said the scarred man.
‘You know that I had no choice. What else could have I done, you’re my brother. You wanted me to let you go kill yourself because of your beliefs. And leave your wife a widow and your son fatherless. Is that what you wanted? I could not let that happen, I’m sorry I love you,’ answered the officer in an even more pained voice.
‘And yet it was still as though I had left a widow and a fatherless son, as though I was dead. Fifteen years in prison change everything around and inside of you. That’s why I’m not going to even ask you to understand me. You don’t even have to come visit me because I wouldn’t have done it for you,’ Heffer uttered lead-laden words, eyes
still set on the floor.
‘Yes, I know, that’s exactly why I’m doing it–so that you see I’m a human being, too, and I feel love even when I’m being hated or treated with indifference. Take it as you wish, but that’s not why I’m here. I’ve come many times ever since you were released. All these times had one thing in common–I dropped by to see my brother and to give him a hug. I know you wouldn’t have done the same for me, wouldn’t have hugged me and asked how I was, wouldn’t come live a normal life with me in the other end of the city. I know it and I won’t try to talk you out of your stand. You finally heard what I wanted you to know, but I’m here now for another reason. You need to get acquainted with the matter and I’d like to talk about that. Help me and that’s how I’ll clear my name when it comes to you, tainted as it is right now in your eyes.’
‘How could you ask me for help, until a minute ago I’ve been explaining to you that I don’t want to see you and now you’re asking me for help,’ the Scarface retorted and looked up at his brother with indifference. Yet something stopped him from walking away and slamming the door behind himself, leaving the General without seeing his ugly face ever again. ‘And how exactly do you plan on clearing your name when it comes to me? You have ten seconds to explain to me what it is that is so important and that brought the great General Saadi here asking for my help,’ his brother approached with a trace of mockery in his voice.
Dawn of Hope- Exodus Page 14
