The Anvil of the Craftsman (Jon's Trilogy)

by Dale Amidei

  “If it had, I am still in your husband’s debt. That cannot change with a gift of money. I will not forget what he did for me, or for my men.”

  “Neither shall we. He thought this much of you. So we do also, and neither will that ever change, Asim.”

  Gabir returned from washing his hands. Clipping the case closed, Kameldorn stood. He smiled at the boy.

  “You mother tells me that you have become a man, and a carpenter. I like your work, Gabir.”

  “Your work is the same?” the boy asked.

  “It is much the same.”

  “I am sorry for you. You watch men die too much.”

  Kameldorn nodded. “I cannot argue. Thank you for your hospitality. I am sorry for disturbing your house.”

  “It is my father’s house. It will be while I live.”

  Respecting the moment with silence, Kameldorn paused. “Gabir, I must ask you to help me again.”

  The boy moved to the kitchen table and offered him a chair as well as one to his mother. They sat, Kameldorn following Gabir’s lead.

  “What can I do?”

  “You know the compound of al-Fatla?”

  “Yes—it is very large. I have worked there more than once.”

  “The men I brought, they are the Sheik’s guests for an important meeting. It is why they were attacked. We are late now, and we must tell the assembly what has happened. Do you know a shorter way than the road from the highway?”

  Gabir nodded. “It is a path only, but your truck will go.”

  “We must go then. The man that died, he lived as an honorable man, and important to his country and Iraq. We must take him to be recovered with the others that have died.”

  Farrah gasped. “Others?”

  “Many others: three more vehicles like ours. All of them are dead, murdered by Al Qaeda.”

  Gabir’s eyes burned. “We hate the foreign fighters. They do not bother us here—we have nothing for them to take, so they think. My work goes on inside the house instead of out, so we look poor.”

  Kameldorn smiled. “You think well, Gabir. Your rifle is clean?”

  “It is always cleaned. It is old but it is still good. There are more hidden under the floor in the spaces I made, if your men need them.”

  Kameldorn shook his head. “They are men from the government. They do not.”

  “All men in Iraq need a rifle. Do they not know now?”

  Kameldorn clenched his teeth. “Some lessons are learned slowly.”

  “They will behave toward my mother, or I will deal with them.”

  Kameldorn nodded. “They will behave, or I would not leave them here. They are good men, Gabir. They are not Muslim, but they mean no harm or insult, believe me.”

  Farrah looked serious. “You are not Muslim, but we do not think the less of you. Neither did my husband.”

  “Then I am a blessed man. We must go if you will help me, Gabir. My government will make it worth your while.”

  “I will do it as a gift again—from my father to you,” the boy said, straightening with pride.

  Kameldorn nodded. He had been away from this house for far too long. It was time now to leave it again if only for a short while. He moved to the front window drawing up the antenna of his satellite phone to confirm a signal, and dialed McAllen’s number from memory.

  Anthony and Schuster were leaning against the truck when they emerged, Kameldorn with his rifle case, Gabir with his AK and a harness full of spare magazines. As the two bustled by, Anthony and Schuster moved out of the way. Gabir opened the back of the SUV while Kameldorn retrieved his carbine from the cab, handing it to Schuster, who surprisingly took it without flinching. Kameldorn stowed the rifle case up against the sidewall of the Land Rover.

  “Remember the controls?” he asked as one did a civilian.

  Schuster looked at the weapon. Pointing, he answered, “Switch for the sight. Switch for the trigger. Safe here, Bang there, and stay away from ‘F’.”

  “You’re getting the hang of it, Bernie. Don’t forget to chamber a round first,” he suggested. He folded down one side of the rear seat as glass crunched.

  Kameldorn helped Gabir—he was strong for his size—gently pick up Colby’s body and secure the sheets around him with bungee cords that the boy had produced. After clearing out the luggage, they grabbed Tom by the shoulders and knees, laying him in the back of the truck with as much dignity as the small area allowed.

  “We’re going back to the wadi, then overland to al-Fatla. You’d better take this.”

  Kameldorn handed Schuster his Thuraya phone. “There’s a signal through the window at the front of the house. These things need a view of the sky.” Nodding, Schuster took it. Gabir waited with his hand on the rear hatch of the truck.

  “Your friend, you say farewell. I am sorry.”

  Kameldorn saw Anthony nod, then came his quiet answer. “We have said our good-byes, Gabir. Thank you for your kindness.”

  Gabir nodded to him and closed the hatch door. It was a more difficult sound for them to hear than they expected, Kameldorn thought.

  “We must go. We will be back,” he promised them.

  “We will be back,” Gabir agreed. “God watches us.”

  Silently Anthony and Schuster watched them go, Kameldorn could see in the rearview mirror. He and the boy saved their words also. Little remained to say. They were more than aware of the dead man riding with them.

  This time Kameldorn drove the route more slowly as Gabir showed him a shortcut to the area. The Major shut off the headlights well ahead of time even before the wreck of the Hilux came into view. They cautiously approached the ambush site. No one waited there for them, but still they stayed only long enough to lay Colby’s body beside the second Land Rover.

  “I’m sorry, man,” Kameldorn breathed, placing his hand on Colby’s chest.

  He looked around. In a couple of hours the Army engineers and their escorts would make the trip out, and his compatriots would begin their long journey home. Being here again made him more angry than afraid, and he knew that he indulged in the first feeling mostly because it canceled the other so well. More to do remained tonight, and it was already getting dark. They walked back to the idling Land Rover.

  Gabir wondered aloud from the back seat as he belted up. “There are so many dead. Theirs are almost as many as yours. The other men, they did not help you?”

  “It was when I came back. Don’t speak of it, Gabir.”

  The boy nodded. “My father—he was a secret soldier as well?”

  “He was a friend.” Kameldorn drove back up the embankment.

  “He must have been a warrior with you.”

  “He was a finder of paths, much as you are. Your father gave his life to save the lives of others, men he did not really even know, and he did it with great bravery. Your father was a strong man, Gabir, but more importantly he was a good man. His family should remember that most of all.”

  “We remember. I was only a child, but I remember. We will not forget.”

  “That is as it should be. Show me the way to where I need to go, as he did.”

  Solemnly nodding, Gabir pointed to a trail that snaked off across the desert from the established road. “Begin there. Watch for the rocks.”

  They set off cross-country on a route only a boy like Gabir would know. Kameldorn spent the time thinking about a man he had been missing since 1994.

  The SUV stopped short of the brightly lit compound, Kameldorn again shutting off the headlights as they emerged from the desert back onto the road. Spotlights were trained on them well out from the main gate, just as they would have been at the gate of al-Dulaimi. Gabir got out from the back door, his rifle held over his head with both hands. He walked the Land Rover in, leading the way with his head held high.

  “Come and see!” he yelled in his native language as they crossed into the compound. “Come and see what the men of Al Qaeda have done!”

  Kameldorn cringed, hoping that the bo
y’s words would not be misunderstood. He parked the truck just inside the gate. From every direction, security men in uniform and militia in civilian clothes appeared, all armed.

  He got out slowly, aware that he had not worn his jacket. His pistol was there in his waistband for all to see, but it did not bother them. He realized that it was likely because they already outgunned him 100-to-1.

  Al-Dulaimi was pushing through the crowd, another man with him, younger but of the same carriage. “We have missed you, sir ….”

  Some men were already inspecting the passenger side of the truck with its bullet holes and shattered glass. Colby’s blood still stained the passenger seat in front; it was the reason Gabir had preferred to sit beside the feet of a corpse.

  “What has happened here?” the sheik accompanying al-Dulaimi demanded.

  Kameldorn spoke loudly enough for all of them to hear. “This is the only vehicle that survived an ambush on your road, your Excellency. It is the reason that we are so late. Two others survive, Mr. Anthony and Mr. Schuster, as guests of my companion, Gabir. Mr. Colby with the rest of his people and our security detail are dead in the first wadi crossed from the highway.”

  Al-Fatla was infuriated. “These men will be hunted down and killed like the rabid dogs they are!”

  “They died themselves afterward, Excellency. All but one: his name is al-Khafji, known to us as one of the Al Qaeda leaders. He makes trouble and death where he finds the chance.”

  Al-Dulaimi growled disgustedly. “We know this man. He has been to Haditha before, and Ramadi.”

  “And Baghdad, Excellency—he was the engineer of the attack at the airport as well. He wanted nothing more than to defy your will to bring the men of Al Anbar together here with Thomas Colby.”

  “But he has succeeded, has he not?” al-Fatla asked in a sad tone. “I had looked so forward to meeting your Mr. Colby, but now you tell me that he is dead.”

  “His best men are still alive, Excellency. They wait to come before you in the morning, as he would have. They still wish to speak, if you will hear them.”

  Al-Fatla’s eyes were on fire with rage. “We will hear them! No foreign fighter will chase my guests from my doorstep! We will make them our guests of honor. The cowards who shoot at guests from beside the road can watch us greet them as men, and wonder how it feels to be one of us!”

  Kameldorn nodded. “I ask for escort, your Excellency. I do not know how many more helpers the enemy will find in Haditha.”

  “He will find more than he should,” al-Dulaimi snorted. “Of course, we will help you. As many men as you require, from my house as well.”

  Kameldorn nodded. “A dozen only, in two more vehicles if it can be managed. I do not wish to draw attention to Gabir’s house.”

  Al-Fatla snapped his fingers at his security chief, who left to make the arrangements. “It will be done. They will bring you back in the morning, as guests should be received. Any man who would stop you will meet his death. You may sleep well in your house this night, Gabir. My men will surround you, and they will not close their eyes before the sun returns.”

  Gabir looked proud. “My house thanks yours, Excellency,” he said, also speaking in English.

  The Sheiks grinned at him. Al-Fatla spoke loudly for those around him, in Arabic. “This boy who helps our carpenters, he is a truly now a man! From our houses to yours, Gabir, you are welcome.”

  Sitting with Anthony and Farrah in the darkened living room, Schuster jumped as the phone in his pocket rang. He panicked for a second, unfamiliar with a Thuraya, but saw the usual green handset button that let him answer the incoming call.

  “Schuster,” he said.

  Kameldorn’s voice was at the other end. “Success, Bernie. I’m calling from the compound. I guessed right, they’re pissed, and we’re bringing the Muslim cavalry with us. We’re on in the morning. The boys are gearing up; we should be there in an hour.”

  “Good news. We’re blacked out here, but everything looks quiet.”

  “Glad to hear it. Stay that way. We’ll be off the air in transit, but the Land Rover will be the first vehicle back in. We’ll have two others behind us.”

  “OK … we’ll be watching.”

  Kameldorn, who had apparently called on the Sheik’s landline, cut the connection. Schuster sighed in relief.

  Farrah spoke from the dark. “They come?”

  “Yes. Bringing backup.”

  “I am sorry?”

  “He brings help. Guards for us.”

  “Ah, yes, it is good.”

  Schuster heard Anthony shift in his chair as he sat up. “Farrah, I was wondering if I may ask a question?”

  “I will try to answer,” she said.

  “The man who brought us here … we know him as Major Matt Kameldorn.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know his real name?”

  “I may. With him, you cannot be certain.”

  Schuster’s curiosity kicked in. “What name did you know?”

  “If he has not told you, it is not my place to say. If you see him again, years from now, it may be different. Greet him, but do not use a name. He is that way.”

  Schuster frowned although no one could see him. “Can we ask how you know him so well?”

  “He knew my husband. He brought him back to me, as you brought Mr. Colby. He has his grave under the palms behind the house.”

  Both he and Anthony were shocked into silence. Anthony spoke first. “Farrah, we are so sorry. We did not know.”

  “It is many years. I cannot tell anything more. I am not being rude. You must ask him these things, please.”

  Feeling guilty, Schuster cleared his throat. “We should not have asked, ma’am. We work with him, but we do not know him. I apologize.”

  “There is no need. You will work with him for many years before you know him. He is a dangerous man. I sometimes did not think he still lived, but there would be a letter, or some money, and I would know he was still there.”

  Schuster felt odd, sitting in the dark with a gun on his lap, hearing Farrah’s secrets. The conversation faded, and they each sat alone with their thoughts, waiting for the sound of vehicles.

  Anthony heard them first, the distant sound of engines followed soon after by the crunch of tires on rock. The men rose and went through the back door. Schuster was taking care to point the carbine straight up, just as Kameldorn had held the weapon when handing it to him, Anthony noticed.

  Anthony inched up to the corner of the house where he could observe the approaching vehicles. Three sets of headlights drew closer, and he felt half-relieved. When the white Land Rover was briefly illuminated by one of the following trucks, his apprehension vanished. The cavalry had arrived.

  Kameldorn pulled the truck behind the house as he did before; the two others, pickups with men riding in the beds, drove past to park beside the old outbuildings. Their guards ran to various positions as Kameldorn and Gabir exited the Land Rover.

  “Success, Doc,” Kameldorn said.

  In the darkness, Anthony strained to see the men, but they already were out of sight. “We’re protected,” he breathed.

  “We could have brought more, but this is about as many as we can get in and out of here without making a show of it. They will get us back to the compound in the morning, and take a siesta, I imagine. Al-Fatla forbade them to sleep before we return. They won’t dare.”

  Farrah was at the door, and she embraced Gabir when he proudly walked back into the kitchen now illuminated by a lamp. She turned to the others.

  “Come in, come inside. It is night now, time for family and rest. You are all welcome here,” she said, smiling at her boy.

  Schuster handed Kameldorn his carbine and phone. “Thanks for the use of these. I’m glad to give them back, though.”

  Kameldorn took both, pocketing the phone and hanging the M4A1 on his shoulder after checking that the chamber was still empty. “You’re welcome. I sleep better with these around anyway.�
��

  “Yeah, I bet.”

  Farrah’s house was a home again. Now for a brief time it had guests, Anthony thought. It fit the house. It fit the ones who lived here. He smiled, bringing up the rear, and shut the door behind him. It was time, as she had said, to rest.

  Chapter 19: Questions and Answers

  Farrah and Gabir made the living room as comfortable as they were able. Gabir had produced some camping mats, and Farrah outfitted them with sheets and blankets. It was not the Marriott or even the Al Rasheed, but it was safe. Everyone slept well enough, mostly out of relieved exhaustion.

  Sometime after dawn Anthony heard a generator fire up outside, and minutes later he heard the sounds of running water. Schuster was also waking but more slowly. Jon saw Kameldorn’s mat neatly arranged but empty. Anthony rose. Farrah was in her kitchen, the outside door standing open. Gabir returned from his trip to an outbuilding.

  “Good morning!” he said. “Water is heating. If you wish a shower, it will not be a long time.”

  Anthony nodded. “Thank you, Gabir. Matt … is he outside?”

  “Yes, he cleans.”

  Anthony slipped into his shoes and politely greeted Farrah as he passed through her kitchen on the way outdoors. The Land Rover had all its doors open, a bucket and yellow rubber gloves nearby. Sitting at the side of the house, Kameldorn was running patches of cloth through the barrel of his scoped rifle, which remained in two pieces. He pulled the rod out and stuck his thumb into the receiver, reflecting enough light through the bore to assess its condition. He looked satisfied.

  “Morning, Doc,” he said.

  “Good morning! Gabir said there would be hot water soon. I hear a generator running somewhere.”

  “In the barn.” Kameldorn pointed to the overhead line running to the house. “This is new. The kid’s set his mom up with electricity and running water since I was here last. He sunk a well and built a water tank back there. It looks like they can tap al-Fatla’s aquifer. He’s turned into a handy lad.”

  “Farrah said that you knew his father.”