by Jon F. Merz
“Take the next left,” someone said. Their voice seemed unhurried and even pleasant, as if they had all the time in the world. The fact that I could still hear the police sirens didn’t seem to even bother this man that much. Although at this point, the cops were probably far more worried about what had happened at the checkpoint than what was happening in this van.
We stayed straight for several minutes until we took another series of turns. Someone put on some music and I heard the strains of an Egyptian pop song come out of the speakers. In spite of the chaos we’d just been through, I found the music comforting in a weird sort of way. It was hard to describe, but it felt like a bit of normalcy amid the din of chaos.
“I like this tune,” said someone else. “Her voice is like that of the gods. And she is as beautiful as the waves of the ocean.”
“Oh my god,” said someone else. “Sharif is a poet now. I don’t think I can take this.”
Laughter filled the car and if it weren’t for the fact that Zero and I were still hooded and technically captives, it might have been a nice day out. But until we got to wherever we were going and saw who was behind our so-called rescue, I wasn’t about to start interacting with anyone.
“Our passengers don’t seem to share our mirth,” said someone else.
A voice appeared next to my ear. “Do not worry, friend. Soon you will know who we are and where you have been taken. For now, rest and prepare yourselves.”
Prepare ourselves? For what? Were they going to kill us or were these Nadi’s men who had been sent to rescue us and bring us to him properly? It seemed likely that Nadi would have had people watching the cafe and reporting to him. I certainly wouldn’t have let a place like that go without surveillance of some type, even if was just paying off the guy next door to let me know if anything strange happened.
But again, it was tough to tell what the hell was happening when we couldn’t see and our hands were still bound behind us.
The van slowed down again and the sirens seemed so far away in the distance that I could barely even hear them now. We took another several turns, first right and then left and then the van straightened out again. Another quarter mile and the van started to slow.
“Almost there.”
I took a deep breath and felt relieved that at least we would be getting out of the van soon. We’d been tossed around so much that I felt like my guts had been put in the spin cycle of a washing machine. I want to get onto steady ground and let my internal equilibrium sort itself out before I started puking everywhere.
Finally, the van drew to a stop and the engine died. Here we go, I thought. I felt Zero suddenly shift as he readied himself as well. We’d either be welcomed or immediately have to start to fight our way out of whatever this was.
The back doors of the van opened and nothing happened for a moment. Then I heard a new voice clucking his disapproval.
“My god, you didn’t even cut their hands free?”
“We had no time,” said another voice. “We had to get them out of there as fast as possible before the cops showed up.”
“The real cops,” said another voice.
“You could have cut them free once you were away,” said the first voice. “They’ve probably gone numb from being tied up liked that. Murad is such a bastard that he wouldn’t even care. Cut them loose. Now.”
I felt a pair of hands on me as I was turned over and the bindings holding my hands together came loose. Blood rushed back into my wrists and I massaged my hands gratefully. Our hoods were removed slowly and we had to blink furiously again, although fortunately the sun was already retreating west by this point.
In front of us stood a man we had never seen before. He wore a pencil-thin mustache and no beard. His eyes were bright and sharp and the olive complexion of his skin gave him a refined appearance underscored by the linen suit he wore.
“Gentlemen, welcome to my home.”
He stepped back and motioned for us to get out of the van. We did so gingerly. I was still trying to quell the churning in my guts, which was weird because I don’t normally suffer from motion sickness. Still, that ride had been something else.
“I’ve been told you are looking for someone I know,” said the man. “My name is Salah.”
8
Judging by the palatial grounds we stood on, I was guessing we weren’t in Cairo proper any longer. We stood on gravel and close to what looked like a single story main house that sprawled before us. Palm trees lent their shady fronds to the exterior of the house; if we hadn’t just been through a firefight and two kidnappings, I might have thought it looked like a pretty nice place to have a barbecue.
Zero held out his hand. “Ian. And this is Billy.”
Salah shook his hand, then mine, and motioned for us to follow him toward his house. “I’m afraid my men got a bit overzealous when they were assigned the task of getting you back from the Mukhabarat. Their hatred for the government causes them to sometimes forget the importance of making sure our friends don’t get hurt in the process of them venting their fury. I apologize, in other words, for their actions that may have harmed you.”
We weren’t about to complain about his men snatching us from Murad’s goons. Although I was worried that Murad would think we had something to do with it. After all, he was down three of his operatives and would no doubt be looking for some serious vengeance. This op was already spawning into something far bigger and more explosive than I wanted it to be.
But I couldn’t do anything about that right now. We needed to find Nadi and if Salah was a front man for him, then we’d play this up and hope to make eventual contact. As it was, we had no weapons. Murad hadn’t given them back to us unless his guys were under orders to return them once we’d gotten back to the hotel. No way to know for sure since they were dead now.
Salah had us join him on a verandah that overlooked a small pond. More trees stood here and blew in the wind which gave a cooling sensation across the entire verandah. After having been cooped up in a van for what felt like hours, the simple act of being able to sit up and enjoy a breeze was quite the luxury. I basked in the relatively cool air and sipped the glass of water served with lemon that Salah’s servant brought out for us.
For a moment, no one spoke. I think Salah was genuinely interested in making sure we were recovered from the jarring ride we’d just endured. Finally, when he judged the moment right, he leaned forward and spread his hands. “Again, I must apologize for what you have gone through on this day. I wish it were easier for potential clients to find us, but obviously, we must take precautions. Sometimes those precautions mandate a bit more of discomfort than ease of transaction, so to speak.”
Zero leaned forward with a smile. “I’m just relieved that we are getting somewhere at last. Murad, the man who held us before your men rescued us, insisted we call him when we met with Nadi. We obviously have no intention of doing that. And now that his men are no longer a threat, perhaps we can get down business at last, eh?”
Salah held up his hand. “Murad is always a threat, whether he has twenty men or just himself. He has sworn something of a personal quest to find and destroy those who would help our brothers overseas with their missions in their own countries. To Murad, every terrorist is garbage. He fails to see the bigger picture. One where we can all help each other bring about the change we so desperately wish to see. Murad is a savior of the corrupt and the rich; he wants nothing to threaten that illusion of peace they peddle. People like Murad swallow that up as if it were some national triumph, when in fact, it creates even more suffering among the very people he is sworn to help protect. It disgusts me.”
Another servant brought out several platters filled with a variety of fruits and cheeses. Salah motioned for us to help ourselves and we did so eagerly. I’d been hungry since shortly after breakfast and with the stress of the day bearing down on us, food was a great source of comfort and strength. All I needed now was a hit of juice and I’d been right as rain.
<
br /> “How come you haven’t eliminated him?” asked Zero. “It seems to me he would be better off dead than alive and able to cause you and Nadi more discomfort.”
“We have tried,” said Salah. “But Murad is a gifted operative. Very well trained. He has no family, which makes it even harder to get to him. Had he a wife or a child, we could simply grab them and exert pressure in that manner. But he lives like a monk. An itinerant one at that. He moves his residence almost as soon as we are able to discover where he has gone to. And even with our resources across the country, he seems to be able to always stay one step ahead of us.” Salah sighed and helped himself to a wedge of cheese. “Believe me, gentlemen, we would like nothing more than to be free of his accursed presence.” He shrugged. “Perhaps the gods will see fit to deliver him into our presence at some point. But not now.”
He clapped his hands and leaned forward. “Gentlemen, please, I pray of you, tell me what it is we can help you with and I will do everything in my power to make it happen.”
Zero told him our story and what we needed. I sat by nodding and offering a word or two here and there. But this was Zero’s show and I played the role of the younger brother as much as possible. Every now and again, Salah would glance over and smile. I smiled back, but kept myself reserved. I didn’t want to play it too friendly. Let them think that Billy might just be a touch crazy - like maybe Billy had a reason why he wanted to blow the hell out of British troops in Northern Ireland.
When Zero was done explaining things, Salah leaned back. “Well, I will certainly pass this along to Nadi.”
“Why isn’t he here now?” asked Zero.
Salah smiled. “For obvious reasons, my new friends. Murad is like a hawk just waiting somewhere far off where we cannot see him. But his eyes see everything and if he thought for one moment that Nadi would be here, we would all already be dead or captured. Murad is able to call up troops at a moment’s notice to crash through the doors of private property such as this one and look for Nadi, who he has deemed a threat to the nation’s security.”
“Will we meet him then?” I asked.
Salah inclined his head. “That depends on several things. First, we must check out your story. It’s not that I don’t believe you, but if we simply handed out money to everyone who came to see us, we wouldn’t have much left to give, now would we?”
“I suppose not,” said Zero.
“So let me make a few phone calls. I will talk to Nadi as well. If things check out, and I’m sure they will given that Murad took such an interest in you, then we will proceed to the next level of discussion - the money part.”
Zero nodded. “That would be great. Thank you.”
Salah sighed. “I suppose it would be fruitless for me to return you to your hotel now. Murad will no doubt be waiting there for you. While you had nothing to do with what my men did, he will know that we have you now and if you were to return, he would grab you for interrogation.” Salah shook his head. “And you do not want to end up in one of his interrogation cells.
“You sound as though you speak from experience,” I said.
Salah nodded and his eyes tracked south toward the floor. “I was part of a large contingent of men the Mukhabarat scooped up a number of years ago when our protests drew too much attention. We lived in those cells for over a year, enduring the sort of treatment that should never be endured by another human being. There are times when I question how I was able to maintain my sanity while I was there. I saw horrors I will never be able to cleanse from my mind. And rather than break us, all it did was strengthen our resolve to bring about the destruction of the men behind it.”
For a moment, no one said anything. Salah was clearly back in his own mind, reliving some of the terrors he’d no doubt experienced. But after another minute, he suddenly blinked and a huge smile broke out on his face. “Well, enough of that.” He clapped his hands. “Gentlemen, you are, of course, free to leave. However, I would caution against such a thing.”
“Where will we stay?” asked Zero.
Salah spread his hands. “You are more than welcome to remain here as my guests. I would rather you choose on your own free will to do that, however. After all, you’ve already been treated poorly enough today and I have no wish to add to that unfortunate series of events.”
Zero laughed. “We would be honored. Thank you for opening your home to us.”
“Of course, of course,” said Salah. “There is a pool in the back you may use if you so like. After a hot long day such as this, there is nothing quite as refreshing. I will see to it that your rooms are prepared. Sleep will also be a priority for you both, I’m sure.”
“I could do with a nap,” I said.
“So gentlemen, feel free to rest yourselves. I will do as I said: make a few phone calls and ascertain what I can about your group and how we may be of service. After that, I will speak with Nadi and if all things are good, then we will discuss the money. Specifically, how to get it to you without attracting the attention of the authorities in both of our countries. Gone are the days when we could simply pack you a bag full of cash and send you on your way. Nowadays we must play within the ever-increasing digital domain of banking. Yet despite its intricacies, there are still ways to move large sums of money without anyone being the wiser. These things we will discuss later. For now, I beg you to rest and enjoy my humble home.”
Salah stood and we did the same. We shook hands again and then Salah excused himself. Zero watched him go and we sat back down to finish the rest of the cheese and fruit.
Aware that Salah’s men were around us and no doubt listening to everything we said, Zero smiled at me. “Seems like a nice guy. And what a home, huh? Beautiful.”
“We’ve got work to do back in Ireland,” I said. “We shouldn’t be here enjoying this when our countrymen are bleeding because of the Brits.”
Zero held up his hand. “There will be time for that, little brother. But we must not insult this man or his hospitality. He has graciously allowed us to stay here while he checks us out. We knew that it would be this way. Take some time today to relax and recuperate from what we went through earlier. When the time is right, we’ll return to Ireland and make those bastard Brits pay for everything they’ve ever done to us.”
I helped myself to more of the fruit. “Very well. But I hope it doesn’t take too long.”
“I don’t think it will,” said Zero. “This man strikes me as very capable. And very honorable.”
9
It wasn’t until we got to our bedroom and had checked it over for listening devices that Zero and I finally had a chance to talk. As it was, we found no bugs, but still kept our voices low. Sometimes, even low-tech measures like listening at the door can prove useful and we had no desire to give ourselves away at this point. Not when Salah was in touch with Nadi. We needed to get close to him in order to complete this op.
We had no weapons to speak of, but that wouldn’t be an issue when we took on Nadi. We’d simply fleece them off of the guards and use something wooden to stake Nadi when we were done taking out the opposition.
The more immediate concern was what to do about our supply of blood. We’d had some this morning, but that would only hold us for another day or so. We had no supplies with us and if we didn’t get some juice, we’d both be in the shit. Yeah, we could hunt if we needed to, but by doing so, we’d risk exposing ourselves and that was a strict no-no.
So what to do about it, I asked Zero.
He smiled. “We should be good for another day. Beyond that, we’ll figure it out. I don’t expect we’ll be here all that long.” He gestured around the room. It held two double beds, a small television, and an air conditioning unit thoughtfully installed for those guests not used to the heat of Cairo. The place was comfortable and Salah had certainly made us feel welcome. I just hoped we checked out with enough of a convincing story line that he okayed meeting with Nadi. Then again, the Mukhabarat had found our story believable enough and so muc
h so that the Brits wanted us both in their custody, so I wasn’t especially worried about what Salah would uncover. As it had been with Murad, it would be here: just a matter of waiting.
I wanted a shower but wasn’t sure if I should press my luck or not. Salah could come back at any time and want to talk or go some place. As grimy as I felt, it would be better to just hang in there and wait. So instead, I lay back on the bed while Zero stayed awake just in case we got bumped in surprise. I’d rest first and then he’d get some shut eye. No sense both of us getting our heads down. As far as we knew, despite our covers seeming solid, we were still in enemy territory. We’d grab rest where we could but not leave ourselves vulnerable at the same time.
I was asleep almost as soon as my head touched the pillow and I dreamed of a bunch of stuff I didn’t remember when I woke up. But I felt rested and hungry, which was a good sign. I told Zero to crash and he needed no convincing. In the meantime, I spent my time perusing the shows on Egyptian television. I found reruns of Barney Miller and settled in to watch it. It was interesting hearing Abe Vigoda’s lines in Arabic, but there you go. I kept the volume low so as not to disturb Zero. While I’d been asleep, he’d spent the entire time apparently lost in thought because he hadn’t switched the TV on at all.
I was two episodes in when Zero came awake all of sudden. “Show time,” he said quietly.
He’d always had better hearing than I did, but within seconds I heard the footsteps coming toward our door and then a quiet knock.
Zero called out. “Come in.”
The door opened and one of Salah’s men motioned for us to follow him. I stood and waited while Zero pulled his shoes on and we followed the man out into the hallway first and then the courtyard.
Salah sat at the same table we had eaten at earlier. It was dark now, going on seven o’clock at night. And I saw there were more plates at the table. Zero and I took the same seats we’d had before and waited for Salah to begin the conversation.
