by Ethan Jones
The interpreter gave her a look of uncertainty mixed with concern. “He will only tell lies, so he can get what he wants.”
Claudia stepped closer to him. “Well, help me make sure that doesn’t happen. Please translate my exact words. I’m trained to do this, and I’ve done this many times. Successfully.”
The interpreter nodded, but the unconvinced look remained on his face. He seemed to be contemplating his reply for a few seconds, then he said, “Okay, okay, I will do that.”
“Wonderful—now, let’s start. Ask him if he wants some water, or a cigarette.”
The detainee just glanced at Claudia, seemingly unsure if she was joking. Met by her serious face, he grinned, then said, “I’ll have both.”
Claudia shook her head as the interpreter conveyed the reply. “That’s not going to work. Tell him that I set the rules here. He can choose only one.”
The detainee’s grin never left his face as he replied, “Cigarette.”
“Do you have one?”
The interpreter nodded. “Yes, but I won’t give it to that dog.”
“Either that or go outside and get him one.”
The interpreter cursed under his breath. He lit up a cigarette and handed it to the detainee, who took it and eagerly drew in a deep, long puff. He repeated it again and again, until he had smoked almost half the cigarette.
Claudia pulled up the other chair and sat across from the detainee. “My name’s Isabella. I’d like your help, and in exchange, I can get you something in return.”
“Like what, my freedom?”
“No, that’s beyond my control. But I can get you a doctor for your wounds.” She gestured at his face, then pointed at his chest and legs. “Or maybe you’re hungry. Something to eat, meals, during the entire time you’re here.”
“Do you think I will sell myself for bread?”
Claudia shook her head. “I’m not thinking anything. I just met you. I know nothing about you or your life, who you are or what you want. That’s why I’m asking you, so that I can learn … and perhaps give you something that can help … in your situation.”
“I don’t need anything.”
“Okay, you’re doing better than I am.” Claudia offered a small smile.
All she got in return was a deep frown and a scowl.
Undeterred, Claudia continued, “I’ll tell you what I’m looking for, and perhaps we can reach a deal.” She pulled out her cellphone and waved it at the detainee. “You can call someone who cares about you. Perhaps your wife, mother, son or daughter?”
The detainee’s left eye twitched. He squinted at her, but said nothing.
Claudia did not miss the telltale sign. The detainee had a daughter, and he seemed to care about her. She leaned forward, closer to the detainee, and offered him the phone. “You know how to use this?”
He nodded slowly.
“Go ahead, then. Call her. Talk to your daughter and let her know you’re alive and well.”
The detainee locked eyes with Claudia. “Really, I can do that?”
The interpreter shook his head and did not translate the man’s words.
Claudia asked, “What did he say?”
“I don’t think you can do that.”
“That’s not what I asked you. Al-Razi tells me what I can and I cannot do.”
“Does he know about this?”
“He knows I’m working here, and he’ll learn that you’re not assisting me. Now, what did he say?”
The interpreter hesitated another moment, then said, “He’s asking whether he can really make a call.”
Claudia smiled. “Of course he can. But tell him not to talk in code, or give anyone this location.”
“He doesn’t know where he is. We always moved him while hooded.”
“Still, warn him, so he doesn’t get any ideas. It wouldn’t help, and will only make matters worse. He’ll be moved before any rescue attempt is made.”
The interpreter translated Claudia’s words.
The detainee shook his head, then said, “No, I … I will say nothing. Just … let me speak to my daughter… Just for a minute.”
“You can take five minutes, but no more.” Claudia offered him the phone. “Only five minutes. No games. And we will listen in on the conversation.”
The detainee began to shake his head.
Claudia said, “Those are the terms.”
He thought for a moment longer, then nodded. He reached for the phone and picked it up with his right hand, which seemed to be less swollen than the left one.
“That’s the speakerphone button.” Claudia pointed at the phone. “Tap that first, then dial the number.”
The detainee followed her instructions.
Claudia said to the interpreter, “Pay close attention to every single word he says. If you suspect a trick, let me know, and I’ll yank the phone.”
The interpreter nodded and stepped closer to the detainee.
As the phone rang, Claudia stood up and walked away from the detainee, glancing instead out the window. The conversation was being recorded, as her agency-issued cellphone default settings were to record all incoming or outgoing conversations. Plus, both she and the interpreter could listen to everything he said or was said to him. Still, she knew the illusion of having some space could only help her rapport with the detainee.
A woman’s voice answered after the fifth or the sixth ring. It was probably the man’s mother, considering her wavering tone. She began to sob as she heard her son’s voice, and the detainee’s voice was also heavily charged with emotions. He tried his best to keep them in check, but ended up doing a poor job. He sniveled a couple of times, and his voice grew weaker and softer as the conversation went on.
Claudia glanced at her watch. The phone call had lasted a couple of minutes, then another younger voice came on the line. His wife, she thought, considering the initial sobbing, followed by true joy. Soon after, a child’s voice spoke another word Claudia had learned, babba. Daddy.
She tried to determine her age and settled on six, maybe seven, given the high-pitched tone. She sounded shy and spoke with big pauses in between. Claudia was not absolutely certain, but the girl seemed to speak with a stutter. Maybe it’s the surprise to hear from her dad. Or maybe she has a speech impediment.
Claudia glanced at her watch again. The detainee had been talking to his family for four minutes. She turned around and gestured at the detainee with her right hand. “One minute,” she said to the interpreter. “Tell him he has one more minute.”
The interpreter barked the words in Arabic.
The detainee shot back an angry glare, but seemed to follow Claudia’s order. His wife, then his mother came on the line, and they all seemed to be giving their final goodbyes.
At the five-minute mark, Claudia stepped in and took the phone. The detainee rushed to say a few more words, before she hit the End button. “How are they doing?” she asked.
The detainee did not respond right away. A wave of emotions seemed to be washing over him. First, his face glowed, then a dark gaze replaced it, followed by his trademark grin. “They’re fine,” he said in a cold tone.
“Are you glad you talked to them?”
“Yes, but this is not a big deal. I could have arranged for that by bribing the guards.”
Claudia stifled the first response that popped into her mind. “Yes, you could have. But you got to talk to your family, the people you love and who love you, because of our deal.”
“We have no deal.”
“You’re right, we don’t. But I’m sure you want to talk to your family again. Maybe even find a doctor for your daughter. She seems to have difficulties when talking. How … how did that happen?”
The detainee shook his head and said nothing.
“Was it an accident?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice grew loud and firm.
“Okay, all right, as you wish. If I can’t do anything about your daughter, maybe somet
hing for your mom? Or your wife? How are they getting by now that you’re away?”
“I don’t want money from you. I’m not for sale.”
“Right, of course.” Claudia sat back in her chair, so she could be at the detainee’s eye level. She waited for him to speak, but when he shrugged, she said, “So, there’s nothing that you want from me for yourself or for them?”
The detainee thought about his reply, then said, “I want to see them.”
The interpreter hesitated to translate the detainee’s words, so Claudia knew it was something the interpreter thought the detainee did not deserve. She smiled, as that meant progress. “What did he say?”
“Al-Razi will never approve this.”
“Why don’t you let him decide that? Now, what does he want?”
“He wants to visit his family.”
Claudia again stifled the first thought that zipped through her mind. He’s right, al-Razi will not allow it. Maybe they can come to see him. Not here, but somewhere else safer for them and everyone else. “Tell him I will have to get authorization for that, but it is doable.”
“You can’t promise him that.”
“I’m not, but translate my words without arguing with me.”
The detainee listened, then shook his head. “If you can’t guarantee it, then I have nothing for you.”
Claudia nodded. “I understand. I wouldn’t do it either, if I were in your position. But look. I’ve already given you something. You talked to your loved ones; you heard the voice of your mom, wife, and daughter. Now, give me something to take to my boss, a sign of good will, that you want us to work together.”
The detainee’s eyes never left Claudia’s face. He seemed to hang on to every word she was saying, although he did not understand any of them. When the interpreter was finished, the detainee did not reply. He drew in a deep breath and just gazed deep into her eyes. Then he spoke slowly, in an almost somber tone, “I’m not sure why, but I feel that we can do business together. The problem is that I don’t trust these infidels who beat me up like a rabid dog. They burned my face with their cigarettes. They kicked me with their boots. Look.” He turned his face and showed Claudia his wounds.
“I understand and I will do my best to help.”
“Yes, but they will not let you.” He shook his head. “You can only do so much, and you have done it.”
Claudia felt like she was losing traction. She said nothing, but flipped through her phone to the pictures of Rania. Let’s start with the easy one. “I’m looking for this woman. She’s from Mosul, and her name is Rania Jawad. Have you ever seen her?”
The detainee glanced at the picture. His left eye twitched again and flashed a glint of recognition. Yet he shook his head. “I don’t know who she is.”
“That’s not what I asked. Have you ever seen her?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
“Take another look.”
“Why?”
“Maybe it will refresh your memory.”
The detainee groaned, but spent a few seconds studying the picture. He shrugged. “I don’t know her.”
“This woman is the sister of Huda Yusuf Ghanem, who was married to Talib Hussain Ghanem. He was one of the caliphate’s greatest fighters.” Claudia gave her voice a tone of solemnity. “It took an entire platoon to take him down.”
“More like an army,” the detainee said.
“Right, so you know him...”
The detainee nodded. “I’ve seen him, but only met him once.”
“What kind of man was he?”
“Brave, strong, but also kind and generous.”
“Did you ever meet his family?”
“No.”
“His wife, Ghanem?”
“No, never.”
Claudia nodded. “Do you know of someone who met her? She was a high-ranking official with al-Hisbah, the female religious police, the morality enforcers...”
The detainee shook his head.
The interpreter said, “We’re getting nowhere here...”
“I can see that, as I understand his gestures.” Claudia tried to tone down her frustration. She leaned closer to the detainee. “Look, I already gave you something very precious. You talked to your family. Help me find this woman,” she pointed at the phone, “and I will help you see your family again.”
“You just said you can’t do that.”
“I said I will need authorization, but everything is possible.”
“Not for me. Not in my condition.”
“Look, things can change, will change.”
The detainee shook his head again.
Claudia sat back in her chair. She gave him a sideways glance. “So, that’s it? You enjoyed something really good, but you don’t want any more... I ... I don’t understand your logic.”
“What is there to understand, woman? You can only give me crumbs... A phone call, maybe some bandages for my wounds, or a cigarette. You really think I will sell my brothers’ secrets for that?”
“Oh, so the price is an issue?”
The detainee gave her a confused look.
Claudia continued, “You don’t want to sell yourself short. I get that. But let’s start small. Tell me who might know about the woman, Rania, and we’ll go from there.”
“No.”
“You don’t want a deal?”
“I do, but you can’t give me that.”
“Look, I’ve only met you for what, ten minutes, and I’ve done more than all these people around you. What do you think will happen if I walk out of this room? Do you think they will be kind and bring your family to visit you? Or let you go? Really?”
The detainee returned a thoughtful glance, but nothing else.
Claudia sighed and stood up. As she paced to the window, loud shouts came from outside, followed by hair-raising cries. A brief pause, then more indistinct shouts.
She looked at the detainee and said, “Do you hear that?”
He did not answer.
“Tell me, do you hear that? That’s your friend, who’s been treated really well by those you hope can give you a deal. If I walk out that door, they’ll come for you and do all that and more to you. Is that what you want?”
The detainee tried his best to give her a defiant look.
Claudia leaned over the detainee. “These people you’re trying to protect, they’ve left you here to rot. You still care about them, when they’ve forgotten about you?”
The detainee’s eyes took on a fiery glare. “The glorious caliphate will return. At that time, all the infidels here and in America will be crushed.”
Heavy footsteps rushed through the hall, then a gunshot echoed from the back yard.
Claudia said nothing for a long moment but observed the detainee’s face.
He looked at the window, then turned his head slightly toward the door.
The interpreter pointed his rifle’s muzzle at the detainee.
A moment later, the seated man said, “What’s going on?”
“What do you think?” Claudia replied in a calm voice.
The detainee swallowed hard, then said, “I think this is a trick to make me talk...”
“I think you’re mistaken.” Claudia’s voice took on a sorrowful tone. “They just shot your friend, probably killed him. And listen, their feet are at the door. They will carry you out and put a bullet at the back of your head.”
The detainee grinned. “You’re bluffing.”
“All we have to do is wait.” Claudia folded her arms in front of her.
A tense silence reigned for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Then there was a loud rap on the door. It opened with a creak and al-Razi and the other gunman burst in. Al-Razi gave the detainee a look of disgust, then glanced at Claudia, “So, has he given you anything?”
“No, a waste of time.”
Al-Razi grinned. “Like I said...”
“You were right.” She stood up
and turned to the interpreter, “Tell him this is his last chance, or you’ll take him out and beat him to death.”
Al-Razi stopped the interpreter in mid-sentence. “No, he had his last chance.” He took out the pistol from his side holster, pulled the detainee up by his arm, and shoved the pistol into the detainee’s side. “No, he’s going to his death.” He switched to Arabic.
The detainee tried to resist, but al-Razi was stronger. He had almost subdued the detainee, when the interpreter hit the man in the back with the metal butt of his rifle. The detainee winced and dropped to his knees.
Al-Razi pressed the pistol at the back of the detainee’s head. “You will meet Allah in a few seconds.”
Claudia stepped forward. “No, wait, maybe he wants to talk...”
The detainee muttered something in a low voice in Arabic, and she did not understand it. “What did he say?”
The interpreter did not reply.
Al-Razi pulled the trigger.
Chapter Sixteen
UNHCR Hasan Sham Refugee Camp
Twenty Miles East of Mosul, Iraq
“Javin, I asked you a question: what are you doing with that gun?” Liberty said.
He glanced at the rifle in his hands, then at Liberty. Her face was twisted in a dark grimace, and she had a look of surprise mixed with disappointment. “Eh ... I ... in the gunfight, I decided to help.”
“Help? I saw what you were doing. You were shooting like a soldier, a trained professional soldier ... because ... because that’s what you are, right?”
Javin shook his head. “Look, Liberty, that’s not what’s going on.”
“All right, then. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, Javin ... if that’s your real name?”
“Of course it is.”
“Well, I don’t know anymore. I think you’re a journalist, a reporter, and I see you here playing Jason Bourne...”
Javin looked around at the crowds of people forming around the tents. Most of them were still children, but there were also a few women and some men, gazing intently at the exchange. He walked to Liberty and said, “We can’t have this conversation here. Let’s go to your office. We can talk there...”
