The Soldier & The Spy

by Samantha Sommersby

  “But—”

  “You listen to me. I’ve seen what men can do to one another during war. I’ve seen things, done things I’d prefer you never imagine. War isn’t about glory. It’s not young men in shiny uniforms, walking in step, fighting for their country. When you come right down to it, it ends up being about two things: survival and killing; it’s you or them, every second of every battle.”

  Lillian swallowed. “You would have?”

  “Without blinking an eye, or spoiling my appetite. Do you realize what your fate would have been if I hadn’t won? You would have been given to Ahmed like chattel.”

  Jackson exhaled, then leaned his head back and growled. “God, I hate this place, this war!” He climbed to his feet, looked up at the sky, threw his head back and his arms wide open and yelled, angrily, “Why would you do this to me?”

  He began pacing back and forth, clearly agitated.

  “I was totally prepared to die. I didn’t care anymore. Not about anyone or anything, no one was depending on me. But, now, well, it’s all cocked up! Here I am, like a fool, hoping, dreaming, believing!”

  “In what?”

  Jackson just shook his head.

  “In us?” Lillian asked.

  Jackson turned to face her. She looked so hopeful, so trusting.

  “I believe in you,” she said. “I believe in us. And, I need you to believe in us too.”

  Jackson opened his arms and enfolded her in his embrace. “You’re a demanding little chit, you know that? Win me in the sword-fight, Jackson. Convince Abdulla to form an army, Jackson. Win the war, Jackson. Believe in us, Jackson! Is this what I have to look forward to? A lifetime of nag, nag, nag?”

  Lillian looked up at him hopefully. “If you’re lucky?”

  Jackson couldn’t help himself. He looked at her huge green eyes and he melted. “Speaking of getting lucky.” He swept Lillian off her feet, and then carried her back over to the blanket, lowering her to the ground and settling himself between her legs. “I want you.”

  “Oh, Jackson.” She arched up into him.

  “What do you want now, love? Would you prefer it harder? Faster? Deeper? I’ll give you anything,” he promised, slipping inside of her. Just exactly where he belonged.

  “Are you ready, love?”

  “Yes,” Lillian said. “I just need to get this veil on. I can’t believe Abdulla sent over another one of these stupid costumes!”

  Jackson looked at her thoughtfully, his head cocked to the side. “You know, I kind of like it.”

  “Men are such pigs!”

  “Here, let me help you.” Jackson tried not to smile. He took the sheer cloth Lillian was struggling with and draped it over her head. “You’re stunning, by the way.”

  He stepped back to admire her. Lillian wore the same white beaded undergarments that she’d worn the first night they’d spent together. Only tonight, they were covered with a sheer nude-colored skirt and veil.

  Together, they stepped out into the night.

  “I feel ridiculous.”

  Jackson gazed up at the moon. “God, where is a camera when you need one.” He turned back to face Lillian. “You should see yourself in this light.”

  “No. This is humiliating enough. I don’t need the moment captured on film forever. I work at Harvard!”

  “So?”

  “So, we have standards, a dress code. I’m not used to being out and about, half-naked, being leered at by strange men.”

  Lillian took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked through the entrance to the tent.

  “Jackson?” She opened the tents flap and peered back outside. “Why am I alone in here?”

  He’d stopped dead in his tracks and was standing there just outside the tent, staring straight ahead with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his uniform trousers. “Jackson?”

  He looked off to the side and pursed his lips.

  Lillian went to him. “What is it?” She reached up and fingered the collar of his white cotton shirt.

  “I hadn’t thought about that part.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The other men, looking at you.” He looked at her pointedly. “I’m not going to like it.”

  Lillian stepped a bit closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’ll be the one taking me home.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Listen, Jackson. We’re in a different country. We’re going to need to play by some of their rules if we want to be accepted. Trust me, I know these people, their customs. That’s why I’m here. I don’t like wearing this. Think of it as a prop, a costume.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Look at me, Jackson. Jackson!”

  “What?” he snapped.

  “We’ve got a job to do, remember?”

  “Of course, I remember.”

  “So, you’re with me?”

  “Yes, I’m with you.”

  “Good!” Lillian laced her fingers through his and led him towards the tent.

  “I’m not going to like it,” Jackson murmured like a stubborn child as they passed through the entrance.

  “Well, our guests have finally arrived!” Abdulla announced, walking up to them.

  Jackson bowed before the prince. “Our apologies, my lord, traffic was horrendous.”

  If Abdulla thought the joke funny, he gave no indication. He was too pre-occupied openly studying Lillian’s scantily clad body. “I think I liked her better in the blue. What do you think?”

  “Actually—”

  Abdulla held up his hand to silence Lillian. “Lieutenant?”

  Jackson cleared his throat before speaking. “To be perfectly honest, Lillian is not entirely comfortable—”

  Abdulla’s expression changed to one of confusion. She knew Jackson’s concern for her comfort would make him appear weak. “In this top,” she quickly interjected, tugging conspicuously on the cups of the beaded brassiere. “I’m afraid it’s too small.”

  Abdulla stared at her full breasts and swallowed. “Too small?”

  “My wife has lovely eyes, my lord. Don’t you agree?”

  “My, yes,” Abdulla answered a bit breathlessly.

  “They’re a little higher, mate.” Jackson removed his uniform jacket and draped it over Lillian’s shoulders.

  Abdulla burst out in laughter. He slapped Jackson, heartily on the back. “I can understand why you are protective of her, Lieutenant. You are a lucky man. Come, have a smoke. May I offer you a drink? Our food will arrive shortly.”

  “Drink?”

  Jemal walked into the tent carrying a tray with a glass. The prince gestured towards him. “Jemal mentioned you have a fondness for scotch,”

  Jackson took it and handed it to Lillian, then looked pointedly back at the tray and frowned.

  Abdulla raised an eyebrow. “Another glass, Jemal. Happy, Lieutenant?”

  “Very,” Jackson said.

  “Bring me Iman!” Abdulla ordered to no one in particular as he walked over, retrieved a lit cigarette, and inhaled deeply. “And show the other guests in.”

  Jemal bowed down to the prince. “Right away, my lord.”

  Lillian and Jackson immediately looked at one another.

  “What the hell was that?” Jackson hissed.

  “That was me, saving your ass,” Lillian answered. “He doesn’t care how I feel. If you act like it matters to you, you’ll appear weak.”

  “Bloody hell! You’re right, of course.” Jackson ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit off.” He tilted his head to the side and cracked his neck. “I’ll be all right.”

  “Think possessive caveman, Jackson. You’re the champion.” Lillian reached up on tiptoes and whispered in his ear. “My champion. Show them, Jackson. Show them you’re the master here.”

  “And what are you?” Jackson smirked.

  “Me?” Lillian coyly removed his coat from her shoulders and handed it back to him. “I am your willing slav
e, my love. Here only to do your bidding.”

  “Nice work!” Abdulla exclaimed. “I don’t even see any scars,” he commented scrutinizing Lillian’s body for the second time that evening. “You must share your technique!”

  “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” Jackson said in a hushed voice. Then he possessively wrapped his arm around Lillian’s waist, pulled her close, and crushed his lips to hers in a resounding kiss.

  Iman sashayed up to Jackson and tapped him on the shoulder. “Can I be next?”

  Jackson turned and looked over Iman’s shoulder, his eyes connecting with Abdulla’s. “Sorry, not willing to share her. I’m a greedy bastard. She’s all mine”

  “I wasn’t asking about a kiss from her.” Iman swept her eyes down the length of Jackson’s body. “I was hoping for a taste of you.”

  “Oh, were you now?” For a moment he appeared to be considering her offer.

  “No!” Lillian cried.

  Suddenly, she felt a strong tug on her arm. Before she knew it she was forcefully pulled into Jackson’s embrace. Silence fell throughout the tent. All eyes were on them.

  “I gave you my word, didn’t I?” Jackson asked patiently as he possessively ran his hands over her.

  “Yes,” answered Lillian with trepidation.

  “You doubt me? Is that it?” There was a hint of anger in his voice. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself? Do you think the commitment I made to you means nothing?”

  “No. I—”

  “I share with no one. My word is my bond. I made a promise to you, Lillian. Don’t insult me again by doubting my integrity. You’re mine and I am yours. That is the way it will be. Do you understand?”

  Her eyes darted around the room. She was acutely aware that they were being watched.

  “Don’t look at them! Look at me! Do we understand one another?”

  Her eyes settled back on his face. Her breaths were coming rapidly now. She searched out his eyes, then after another moment’s hesitation she lowered hers and whispered, “Yes, Jackson.”

  The second her eyes met his he knew he had gone too far. He’d frightened her. Jackson moved closer and for a few seconds he let his guard down, allowing just enough time for her to see that he was still there, behind the mask. As soon as her breathing slowed he stepped back slightly, reached for her hand, and brought it to his lips, kissing it.

  “Say it. You know what I want to hear.”

  “I’m yours.”

  “No one commands you but me,” he declared, stepping back. “Do you understand? You bow to no one else. No one but me.”

  “Yes. I understand.”

  “Drink up!” Abdulla shouted, waving to the musicians to resume playing. “Lieutenant, a word.” He approached the couple. “I understand what you are trying to do, here. But, let’s be clear. She has to bow down to me. Everybody bows down to me, I am in command here.”

  Jackson nodded. “Of course, my lord.” Then he turned to Lillian and lowered his voice. “Tell him. It’s time he knew.”

  Abdulla stepped closer to them. “Knew what?”

  Lillian looked slightly panicked then glanced around the tent. The others were still watching and listening. She swallowed, hard, doing a consummate job of appearing uncertain, cautious.

  “I’m afraid this is for your ears only,” said Jackson.

  “Clear the tent,” Abdulla barked. Within seconds they were alone. He took a long drag from the cigarette he still held in his hand, and then offered it to Jackson.

  “I prefer to keep my head clear,” he responded.

  “If you stay in command, you will die.” Lillian declared. Abdulla scoffed at the idea. But Lillian didn’t back down. She looked him steadily in the eye, her gaze unwavering. “It’s true.”

  Abdulla broke into laughter. “There are dozens of men who have sworn their loyalty to me. It is their job to serve me, protect me.”

  Lillian shook her head. “They won’t be able to. One by one the Turks will pick them off. Finally, they will pick you off. Every night I saw it happen, every night since you found me. Until the lieutenant came. That’s when it changed.”

  She had Abdulla’s attention now. “What changed?”

  “Your destiny,” said Lillian.

  “What do you see?” Abdulla sat down and again lifted the cigarette to his lips.

  “The lieutenant will form an army, an army that will lead us to victory, lead us to Aqaba. Together we will drive the Ottomans out.”

  He looked skeptical. For a few moments he said nothing. He just sat and smoked in silence.

  Jackson crouched down and studied him carefully. “Abdulla has all the respect he needs, he doesn’t care about being a hero,” he said, appearing to be thinking out loud. “He is already a hero to his people.”

  Abdulla looked at Jackson and smiled.

  “Abdulla, we’re going to Aqaba and you are going to come purely for the pleasure of it.”

  “Pleasure?” asked Abdulla.

  “Victory, my lord, is truly the most intoxicating of elixirs.” Leaning forward Jackson whispered, “There is nothing like it. Nothing.”

  “Really, Lieutenant? Is that why you do it?”

  “Absolutely!” Jackson swaggered over to Lillian. He reached for her forcefully pulling her close and began to nuzzle her neck while running a hand possessively over her breasts and down her stomach. After a few seconds he paused. “And pleasure is important, no?”

  Abdulla nodded, thinking it over. “I want to be in charge.”

  “It won’t work that way, my lord. You don’t know enough about fighting. I need to be given the power to organize the men and train them.”

  Abdulla licked his lips, and then took another drag from the cigarette. “Fine, you do whatever you want, but I am in charge.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Jackson agreed.

  “And I get the white horse,” Abdulla quickly added, smiling.

  Jackson shrugged. “Always liked black better anyways. Lillian will need a horse, too.”

  “She will stay behind with the other women.”

  “No, she rides with me. I am not leaving her. She will fight alongside of me.”

  Abdulla raised an eyebrow. “Interesting battle strategy, Lieutenant. Are you sure about that? She could prove distracting.”

  Jackson turned back to look at his wife. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

  It had been several hours since Abdulla had emerged from the tent and made his announcement to the camp. “Tonight we celebrate! Tomorrow, we begin the job of preparing for war. Aqaba will be ours!”

  The people went wild with excitement. The mood of the camp changed instantly. It seemed everyone was quickly caught up in the celebration. Torches now lit the area, a soft glow reflecting off of the sand. Exotic music played loudly, the scent of opium permeated the air, and food was plentiful. Sahar, dressed exquisitely in black and red silk, was in the middle of the crowd performing an erotic dance.

  Lillian noticed Abdulla’s eyes glaze over with want. He focused on the young girl’s fluid movements, watching intently as her lithe body danced enticingly to the pulsating rhythm of the music.

  “Sahar is very young,” Lillian said softly.

  Abdulla continued to watch her. “She is old enough.”

  Lillian shrugged. “She believes she is to marry your son.”

  The prince looked over at her and smiled. “You feel protective of her? Are you afraid I might get it into my head to keep her for myself?”

  Lillian didn’t answer. Her head was clouded and she desperately tried to maintain focus. “How old is your son, the one she is to marry?”

  “Sixteen. Do you dance?”

  “Me? No.”

  “Sahar could teach you,” he suggested.

  Lillian suddenly realized she had once again lost track of the conversation. “Teach me what?”

  “To dance,” Abdulla responded patiently.

  “Thank you, my lord, but that’s not necessary.” S
he peered into her empty cup and frowned.

  “It would undoubtedly please your husband. It’s an important skill, Lillian. I will have her teach you.”

  “What are we talking about?” Jackson asked.

  “The prince is suggesting lessons, so I can better please you,” answered Lillian with a flirtatious smile.

  “You don’t need any lessons.” Jackson encircled her waist with his arm and pulled her towards him.

  “He’s being very insistent.”

  Jackson leaned down and looked searchingly into her eyes.

  “What?”

  “You’re completely smashed,” he said, surprised.

  “I am not!”

  “I can barely see your irises your pupils are so big. Have you been letting her smoke that?” Jackson pointed to Abdulla’s cigarette?

  “She’s surrounded by it, Lieutenant. It’s perfectly harmless, I assure you. Would you like another drink?” he asked, turning to Lillian as Jemal approached with a tray.

  When she reached out for the glass Jackson quickly grasped her wrist. “I think she’s had quite enough.”

  Lillian pulled her hand away. “Let go!”

  “Don’t you go getting shirty with me, now. I said you’ve had enough,” Jackson said calmly.

  “Don’t you go getting shirty with me!” she mocked.

  “The party is lovely, my lord.” Jackson turned towards Abdulla. “But I’m afraid Lillian is in desperate need of some fresh air. We must take our leave.”

  “The night is still young, Lieutenant. Stay. The celebration is just getting started.”

  “Will you let go?” shouted Lillian as she tried to pry his fingers from around her wrist. “You’re hurting me!”

  Jackson leaned over, scooped Lillian up, and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

  “Oh!” Lillian balled up her fists and hit Jackson’s back. “Put me down!”

  “Goodnight, my lord. We’ll have to do this again sometime,” Jackson said before taking his leave.

  “Where are you taking me?” Lillian shouted.

  “Just going for a moonlit stroll.”

  Lillian had stopped struggling and hung limply over his shoulder. She yawned loudly. “But there isn’t any moon tonight, or stars for that matter.”

  “You’re looking at the ground.” Jackson stopped and set her back on her feet.