Payback - John Hayes Series 06 (2020)

by Abbott, Mark David

  He would do anything for her, in fact, he had—risking his own life for her, more than once. She was everything to him, and he was happier than he had been in years—since he lost Charlotte. Charlotte had also made him feel this way. He felt a heavy sensation in his chest. Was he making a mistake? He was going to risk losing the woman he loved by taking on the most dangerous task he had ever faced. Was it worth it?

  John’s heart started pounding again, and he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He needed to do something. He padded quietly across the room to his open suitcase lying on the floor. Carefully and quietly, he removed his running gear and got dressed. Picking up his running shoes, he tiptoed to the door and let himself out. Once outside the house, he slipped on his running shoes and headed onto the street. Running always made everything seem better, and he needed to burn off the adrenaline already coursing through his veins. He started slowly, allowing the blood to circulate and warm his joints. The air was cool and silent, the only sound from a few birds who, like him, couldn’t sleep. A cat paused as it crossed the road, looking at him curiously before scampering for the safety of a flower bed.

  John completed a full loop of the housing estate, but it wasn’t enough, he was only just getting warmed up. He headed toward the exit, waved at the sleepy Pakistani security guard manning the gate, ducked under the barrier, and headed out on the main road. He increased his pace, breathing rhythmically through his nostrils, emptying his mind, focusing on the flow of air over his top lip and the rhythmic pounding of his feet. After a few kilometers, the effort melted away, his body running by itself, just a witness as if observing his body from without. He increased his speed, faster and faster until he was flying along, and his whole being filled with joy. There was no past, no future, no fear, no desire, just the present moment. He ran for thirty minutes before turning back and returning the way he had come as the sky lightened, a faint glow on the horizon signaling the sun’s awakening.

  Spotting the entrance to the housing estate in the distance, he increased his pace, now sucking air in through his mouth, but it was still effortless, his body reveling in the primal joy of movement. He reached the barrier and slowed, reducing his pace to a jog, then a walk, his hands on his hips as he caught his breath. He continued up the road for a few hundred meters before turning back and entering the housing complex. The guard grinned with approval and gave him a thumbs-up as he passed. John walked back along the street, signs of life now more apparent as households slowly woke and began their day. A pair of bright green parrots squawked noisily as they swooped low overhead, and a neighbor raised a hand in greeting as their dog peed on the tire of an Audi parked in their driveway.

  Despite the lack of sleep and the tension of the day before, John felt at peace, the endorphin rush making him feel almost invincible, able to tackle anything the universe threw at him. As he pushed open the front door, he felt more confident than at any time since Steve had first contacted him. It was time to work out how he would rescue Steve’s niece.

  19

  Mia stirred, blinked her eyes open, then sat up with a start. She looked down beside her at Malak, sleeping on the blanket beside her, and touched her forehead; she was still hot. She heard a faint noise beside her, and she looked over to see Naeem kneeling on the floor, his eyes closed, hands raised in prayer as he performed namaaz.

  She watched him perform the rituals but had no desire to join him. She didn’t pray much anymore, not in the formal sense, not like Naeem. There was little point. She doubted God cared which way you faced or how many times a day you prayed—not when people were dying every day.

  She shuffled back until she was leaning against the wall, gently picked up her daughter, holding her with one arm as she pulled the blanket up around them. It was cold, and she could see vapor from her breath rising in the early morning light.

  Naeem finished his prayers and opened his eyes. He nodded at her, then looked around for his boots.

  “I’ve left some water for you,” he said as he laced them up. “I’ll try to find some food.” He stood up and reached for his weapon leaning against the wall, slung it over his shoulder, then reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and removed the phone. “Here take this. There is still some battery charge. Don’t turn it on until it’s time. I don’t know when I can charge it again.”

  “You’re not coming back?”

  “I don’t know.” Naeem shrugged and looked out the hole in the wall where the window had once been. He turned back to look at her and scratched his scraggly beard with his right hand. “I’ll find food now, but I have to go back to the front. I can’t leave my brothers.”

  “Brothers? What about your daughter?”

  Naeem sighed and looked down at the bundle in Mia’s arms. He stepped forward, kissed his fingertips, then placed them on the child’s head.

  “I’ll be back with food. Inshallah.”

  Mia closed her eyes and rocked her child back and forth. Despite everything, she didn’t want Naeem to leave her alone. She retreated into the protective shell she had built for herself—just her and Malak. The outside world didn’t exist, didn’t matter.

  20

  John and Steve sat together, staring at the laptop screen.

  “So, if we fly to Erbil, then it’s over two hundred kilometers to the border crossing at Faysh Khabur.”

  John tapped on the keyboard. “Hmmm.”

  “Probably at least a three-hour drive, then who knows how long it will take to cross the border. And that’s if we do it legally.”

  “That’s right.” John leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Then it’s over six hundred kilometers across the whole of Syria from here,”—John leaned forward and pointed at the screen—“to here.”

  “Shit.” Steve exhaled noisily

  “Yeah.” John continued to stare at the screen, then looked up as Marisel walked in with a tray. “Oh, thank you, Marisel.”

  “Is Madam up yet, Marisel?” Steve asked.

  “I think so, sir.” Marisel nodded as she placed the tray with two cups and a French press on the table beside them. “Shall I prepare breakfast?”

  Steve gave a questioning look at John.

  “Yes, I’m starving. Adriana’s just having a shower. She’ll be down soon.”

  Steve nodded and smiled at Marisel, then reached for the French press, depressed the plunger, and poured two cups of coffee. He handed one to John, then added two teaspoons of sugar to his own. He noticed John watching and grinned.

  “Don’t tell Maadhavi. She’s trying to get me to cut down.”

  “It’s good to know someone is taking care of you.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Are you happy?”

  “Very.” Steve stirred his coffee, then dropped the teaspoon onto the tray. “She’s a wonderful woman, John. My life is so much better with her in it.”

  “Good, I’m happy for you both. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

  “Yeah, mate.” Steve sipped his coffee, then licked his lips and placed the cup back down on the table, staring out the French windows into the garden. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been happy. My divorce, in fact, the last few years of my marriage...” He turned back to John and grimaced. “Not fun, mate, not fun at all.”

  John said nothing, allowing Steve to continue.

  “That’s why I came here. I needed to get away from it all, to start afresh. Somewhere no-one knew me.” He grinned. “And this city is full of work for an ex-cop.”

  “So...” John chose his words carefully. “Now this,”—John gestured to the laptop with his spare hand—“will be dangerous. Is it worth risking,”—he gestured as if encompassing the entire house—“all this? What if you never see Maadhavi again?”

  Steve looked down, turning the coffee cup around and around on the table, then looked up.

  “What kind of man would I be if I left Mia and her child to die over there… if I didn’t at least try,… just because I feared losing my happiness
and comfort? I couldn’t do it. My entire life would be a lie, John.”

  John stared down at the dining table surface. He took a deep, slow breath, then exhaled.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  The men sipped their coffee in silence, lost in their own thoughts until a sound by the door made them look up to see Adriana watching them.

  “Well, don’t you two make a happy pair this morning?”

  21

  Later that morning, after a large breakfast and Marisel had cleared away the plates, they sat around the dining table. A fresh pot of coffee sat on the table next to a laptop, a couple of notebooks, and pens.

  “Look, Steve, going into Syria should be our last resort. We need to make sure we’ve exhausted every other channel first.”

  Steve raised both his hands.

  “John, I know that’s the sensible thing to do. Don’t think we haven’t tried. My brother and I have been working on this for weeks before I called you. The Australian government doesn’t want to have anything to do with them. She’s a terrorist in their eyes.”

  “She’s a mother with a child,” Adriana protested.

  “I know, but they don’t see it that way. They are worried about what the public will think if they allow,”—Steve made quotation signs with his fingers—“members of ISIS into the country, just because they are Australian.” He shrugged, “It’s an election year.”

  “Red Cross, UNHCR?” John asked.

  “John, we’ve gone through this already. No-one is interested. They’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

  John nodded and drummed his fingers on the table. He looked up at Adriana, then across to Maadhavi.

  “What do you think about this, Maadhavi?”

  “John, I’ve seen what Steve has gone through in the past few weeks. He’s tried everything. I don’t see what else he can do.”

  “And if he goes into Syria?”

  Maadhavi paused, turned her head to look at Steve, and gave him a sad smile.

  “Of course, I don’t want him to go, but...” She turned back to face John. “I know what she means to him. I can’t hold him back. It wouldn’t be fair.” She looked down at the table and frowned, a faint quiver in her lip, “I love him, and I have to respect whatever decision he makes.” Looking up, she continued, “There are two lives at stake here. It’s not right for me to be selfish.”

  Steve reached across and gave her hand a squeeze.

  Maadhavi looked at Adriana. “You understand, don’t you?”

  “I do.” Adriana half-smiled in support, but her eyes remained concerned. “I don’t want John to be in harm’s way, but I know he, too, can’t stand by and do nothing.” She smiled at Steve. “And I know what Steve has done for us. It’s the least we can do.”

  “Yes, he told me what happened in Oman.”

  “We wouldn’t be here today if it hadn’t been for Steve.”

  Steve looked down, uncharacteristically embarrassed as Adriana continued.

  “So, yes, it will be dangerous, but it’s the right thing to do.” Adriana turned to John and placed a hand on his thigh. “I’m canceling my flight back. I’m staying here. I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

  “But your work?”

  “You really think I can go back to the office while you and Steve are doing this? Besides, I convinced João to let me work from here, and hopefully, there’ll be a story in it for the paper.” She looked at Steve. “That’s if you don’t mind, Steve?”

  “No worries. Just make me look good.”

  John smiled, leaned over, and kissed her on the neck.

  “I love you,” he murmured in her ear

  “Right.” Steve clapped his hands. “We’ve got work to do.”

  22

  They spent the rest of the day researching as much as possible about the conflict in Syria while Marisel kept them supplied with coffee and food. Adriana worked the phone, contacting as many journalists covering the region as she could. The dining table resembled a conference table at a startup, with laptops, phones, and pieces of paper strewn everywhere. By late afternoon, they were tired and dejected. Steve pushed back his chair and went to stand by the window, his hands in his pockets. John looked up, glanced over at Adriana, then leaned back in his chair.

  “What’s up, Steve?”

  Steve shook his head and turned to face them. He looked at them all one by one and sighed.

  “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. It’s looking hopeless.”

  “Hey, Steve, don’t give up. We’ll find a way.”

  “Yes,” Adriana agreed. “There’s always a solution.”

  “That’s right.” John massaged his eyes with his fingertips. “Remember what we did together in Oman when all seemed lost.” He smiled, “We’ve proven we are an excellent team. We’ll work something out.” He glanced at his watch. “What time did we say we’d call Mia?”

  “Six.”

  “Good. We have an hour. Let’s take a break, relax for a bit. Sometimes, we need to step away from the problem to find a solution.” John looked around the table. “I think we’ve done enough research for one day.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I could murder a beer.”

  John fixed gin and tonics for himself and the ladies while Steve grabbed a beer from the fridge, and they all moved outside to the patio. The air had cooled, and the sun threw long shadows across the pool. The trees were filled with birds, chirping and squawking as they returned home from a day of foraging, and the smell of food cooking wafted through the patio doors as Marisel prepared dinner in the kitchen. It was a peaceful setting, at odds with the turmoil in each of their heads.

  John was halfway through his gin and tonic when he sat up straight, a wide smile lighting up his face.

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  Maadhavi, Steve, and Adriana waited for him to continue.

  “Let’s say we can get across the border. We all know moving around inside Syria could be a major problem. From what we have learned, there are checkpoints everywhere.”

  Steve nodded.

  “What if we pose as journalists? Don’t they get to go everywhere?” He looked at Adriana. “Can you get us some press passes?”

  Adriana shook her head. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Okay, talk me through it. How does it usually work?”

  “To enter a country as a journalist, you need to first get a press visa. Then you’ll need to get accredited with the government of that country as a journalist, so you can get a press card. You’ll need sponsorship letters from your news agency, maybe an employment contract, letters of recommendation, all officially stamped. Even if João agreed to do it, it’s too complicated and time-consuming. Once we have all the documents, we would have to send them all to the Syrian Government for approval. We don’t have the luxury of time.”

  “Shit.” John sat back in his chair and frowned at the swimming pool. After a minute, he stood up. “I need another drink. Anyone else?”

  Maadhavi and Adriana shook their heads while Steve waved his empty beer bottle in the air.

  John walked into the kitchen and smiled at Marisel, who was busy at the stove.

  “Smells good, Marisel.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, popped off the top using a bottle opener stuck to the fridge door, filled his glass with ice from the freezer, then moved to the bar cabinet in the living room. He picked up the bottle of gin and frowned at the label. Not the best, but it would have to do. The second one was always better. He would need to educate Steve on what a quality gin was. John poured a generous measure into his glass, then reached for the bottle of tonic. His hand stopped halfway as another idea formed in his head.

  23

  John walked out onto the patio with the drinks. He passed the bottle of beer to Steve, raised his own drink in a toast.

  “I have a better idea.”

  Before he could say anything, Steve’s phone rang.

&
nbsp; “One sec.” Steve removed the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen, frowning.

  “What is it?” John asked.

  Steve looked up. “Mia.” He tapped on the screen to answer the call.

  John checked his watch. It was still half an hour before they were scheduled to call. He frowned and watched Steve’s face.

  “Hello? Mia... wait, I’ll put you on speaker.” Steve tapped the screen, then held the phone out so all could hear.

  “Uncle Steve?”

  “Yes, I can hear you. Is everything okay?”

  The boom of an explosion and the rapid rat-tat-tat of gunfire came through the phone’s tiny speakers.

  “Shit,” Steve cursed. “Mia?”

  “Yes... I have to leave here.” Another explosion. “The fighting is getting closer.... it’s... no longer safe here.”

  “Are you okay? Malak?”

  “She’s a little better. She is awake but still has a fever.”

  Steve gave a worried look at John.

  “Where will you go?”

  “I...” Her voice was cut off by the sound of gunfire, closer than before. “I don’t know. I’m waiting for Naeem. He is at the front with the others. When he comes, we’ll try to find somewhere else to stay.”

  “I’m coming to get you, Mia.”

  “How, Uncle?”

  “We have a plan.”

  John raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Steve continued.

  “Don’t worry, but keep safe. We need some time.”