“There are too many of them. They can always identify us.”
“But the children, do they have to die also?”
“What’s come over you? I thought you hated them. They stole your heritage.”
“Not the children. Jordana and my father, yes. But not the children.”
“Children can identify us also.”
She sat silently for a moment, then got to her feet. “I think I’ll go outside for some air,” she said.
After the door had closed behind her, Yasfir turned to Ramadan. “If I don’t get back in time you have your orders.”
“Yes,” Ramadan replied.
“She must go first,” Yasfir said. “She, more than any of them, can get us hanged. She knows too much about us.”
The night air was cool and it felt good against her face. Leila walked slowly in the direction of her own cabin. So much had happened that she hadn’t anticipated. There was none of the glamour and excitement that she had envisioned. Mostly it was just boredom. Boredom and empty days and nights.
And there was none of the feeling of participating in the cause of freedom. She had long given up trying to connect what was taking place here with the struggle to free the Palestinians. All the soldiers were mercenaries. And very well paid too. Not one of them seemed to care about the cause. Only about their monthly pay. It was not at all what the boys and girls in school had talked about. Here, freedom was just another word.
She remembered that Hamid had once tried to explain that to her. But she refused to understand it then. It seemed so long ago, but it had been only six months. Why was it that she had felt so young then and so old now?
She paused at the entrance to her cabin and looked out at the camp. It was quiet. Something disturbed her but she didn’t know what it was. Her eyes caught a glimpse of motion on the wall. One of the machine gunners had straightened up to stretch. Against the pale moonlight, she could see his hands reach toward the sky. Then, suddenly, he pitched forward head-first into the camp. A moment later there was the crack of a rifle shot. Even as she froze in surprise, the skies seemed to open up and the fires of hell to pour down on them.
The thought flashed crazily through her mind even as she began to run. Now she knew what had disturbed her. The quiet. It had been much too quiet.
CHAPTER 16
The children came awake screaming with terror. The tiny cabin reverberated with the concussions coming from the explosions that seemed to be taking place all around them. Jordana leaped from her cot, ran to them and held them close to her.
She heard one of the women in the other room screaming but she could not tell who it was. Through the cracks in the boarded-up windows, she could see flashes of red and orange light. The whole cabin seemed to shudder convulsively as another explosion tore the night.
Oddly enough she wasn’t frightened. For the first time since the hijacking, she felt secure.
“What’s happening, Mommy?” Muhammad asked, between tears.
“Daddy’s come for us, darling. Don’t be frightened.”
“Where is he?” Samir asked. “I want to see him.”
“You will,” she said soothingly. “In just a few minutes now.”
Anne, the nanny, appeared in the doorway. “Are you all right, madame?” she called.
“We’re fine,” Jordana shouted back over the noise. “And you?”
“Magda’s got a splinter of wood in her arm but otherwise we’re all right.” She paused as another violent concussion rocked the cabin. “Do you need any help with the children?”
“No, we’re fine,” Jordana said. She remembered something from a war movie she had once seen. “Tell the girls to lie down on the floor with their hands over their heads. They’ll be safer that way.”
“Yes, madame,” Anne answered, her Scottish imperturbability unruffled. She disappeared from the doorway.
“On the floor, boys,” Jordana said, pulling them down with her. They stretched out, one on either side, and she placed her arms over them, sheltering their heads under her shoulders.
The noise from the explosions was diminishing. Now more and more she heard the sounds of rifle fire mixed with the noises of men running about and shouting. She held the children tightly and waited.
***
Leila ran through the camp, which was filled with men running back and forth in confusion. The attack seemed to be coming from all sides.
Only one man seemed to have a purpose. She saw Ramadan, his rifle in his hand, running toward the women’s cabin.
Suddenly she remembered the automatic in her belt and pulled it out. The cold steel weight was comforting in her hand. Now she did not feel as alone and unprotected. “Ramadan!” she yelled after him.
He didn’t hear her and kept going, disappearing from sight around the corner of the women’s cabin. Without knowing why, she ran after him.
The door of the cabin was open when she got there. She ran inside and suddenly stopped in shock. Huddled against the wall of the backroom, the women had gathered in a group around Jordana and the boys. Ramadan, standing in the narrow doorway between the rooms, his back to her, was bringing his automatic rifle up to firing position.
“Leila!” Jordana screamed, “They’re your brothers!”
Ramadan wheeled, the rifle turning toward Leila.
It wasn’t until Leila saw the cold absence of expression on Ramadan’s face that she realized the truth. She meant no more to Al-Ikhwah than her brothers. They recognized the ties of blood even if she hadn’t. To them, she was only a tool to be used and discarded when their need of her no longer existed.
She held the heavy automatic in front of her with both hands. By reflex, her fingers tightened on the trigger. It wasn’t until the clip had emptied itself and Ramadan had pitched violently onto the floor that she realized she had pulled the trigger.
Looking across his body, she saw Jordana quickly turn the faces of the boys away from the sight of the blood welling from Ramadan’s body.
Suddenly she felt a strong pair of arms seize her from behind, pinning her own arms against her body. Violently she struggled to free herself.
“Leila! Stop it!” a familiar voice snapped in her ear.
She twisted her head to see who it was. “Hamid!” she exclaimed in surprise. “Where did you come from?”
“Time for that later.” He pulled her backward through the doorway. Loosening his grip but holding on to one arm, he dragged her after him through an opening that had been blasted in the camp wall.
When they got to the edge of the forest, he pushed her down flat against the earth. She raised her head to look at him. “What are you doing here?”
He pushed her head down again. “Don’t you remember the first thing I taught you?” he said harshly. “Keep your head down!”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said, her voice muffled.
“I came to get you.”
“Why, Hamid, why?”
“Because I didn’t want you to get yourself killed, that’s why,” he said huskily. “You always were a lousy soldier.”
“Hamid, you love me,” she said, a note of wonder coming into her voice.
He didn’t answer.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
He turned to look at her. “What right have I to love a girl like you?”
***
Ben Ezra strode about, directing his soldiers, his scimitar flashing over his head.
He glanced around fiercely. The resistance seemed to be slowing down. He looked around for Hamid, but he was nowhere to be seen. Aloud he cursed him. He hated soldiers who became too involved in the battle to remember their orders. He had told him to stay near him.
He signaled the Israeli corporal. “Gather your men!” A moment later he caught Jabir’s eye. “Fetch you master,” he shouted. “We’re bringing out the captives!”
There was a burst of gunfire on the other side of the camp. He saw several of the Yemenis run toward it. He nod
ded to himself grimly. He had made the right choice. They were magnificent fighting men.
***
Baydr was the first to enter the cabin. He felt his heart leap as he saw his sons. He dropped to one knee to bring them in his arms as they ran to him, screaming. “Daddy! Daddy!”
He kissed one then the other, and felt the salt of his own tears on his lips.
“We weren’t frightened, honest, Father,” Muhammad said. “We knew you would come for us.”
“Yes,” Samir piped up. “Mommy told us that every day.”
He looked up at her. His vision was blurred with tears. Slowly he rose to his feet.
Jordana didn’t move; her eyes were fixed upon him.
Silently, he held out his hand to her.
Slowly, almost tentatively, she took it.
He looked into her eyes for a long moment. His voice was husky. “We almost didn’t make it.”
She smiled tremulously. “I never for a moment doubted.”
“Can you forgive me?” he asked.
“That’s easy. I love you,” she said. “But can you forgive me?”
He grinned. Suddenly he was the Baydr she had first known and loved. “Easy,” he said. “I love you too.”
“Move out,” the Israeli corporal yelled from the door behind them. “We haven’t got all night!”
***
Ben Ezra was standing near the camp entrance. “Anyone else?” the general asked.
“That’s all of us,” the corporal answered.
He turned to the Yemeni captain. “Rear guard posted?”
“Yes, sir,” the captain replied. “Four men with automatic rifles ought to keep them occupied for a while. We’re not to wait for them. They’ll backtrack and we’ll pick them up in our original landing place in a few days.”
Ben Ezra nodded. That was good soldering. “How many casualties?”
“One dead, a few superficial wounds—that’s all.”
Ben Ezra turned to the Israeli.
“Two dead.”
“We were lucky,” the general said grimly. “We caught them with their pants down!” He looked out on the road. The captives were in the midst of a joyous reunion. The men of the flight crew were in good shape and so were the women. They huddled together in a tight group, all trying to talk at once. “Better get them started,” Ben Ezra said. “It won’t take our friends very long to figure out how few of us there are and then they’ll be coming after us.”
The Israeli started off. Ben Ezra called him back. “Did you see the Syrian?”
The soldier shook his head. “I haven’t seen him since we first went in after the rockets were fired. He was in front of me and then he just disappeared.”
Ben Ezra was puzzled. It didn’t make sense. Unless the man had been killed and was lying undiscovered somewhere. But, no, that wasn’t possible. The Syrian was just too good a soldier. He would turn up sooner or later. Ben Ezra turned and started down the road after them. He looked at his watch. Three o’clock. Right on schedule.
Now, if the helicopter made it on time, they would be having breakfast at the Prince’s palace in the morning.
CHAPTER 17
Dick Carriage moved slowly through the camp. Through the open gate, he could see the others going down the road on their way to the airstrip. But he wasn’t ready to leave yet. There was still some unfinished business for him to attend to.
The sporadic sound of rifle fire came from the various corners of the camp. The Yemenis were doing their job. Slowly, carefully, he opened one cabin door after another and still there was no sign of him.
Yet the man had to be there. He could not have gotten out before the attack. No one could have left the camp without being seen. Besides, he had heard Hamid report to the general that he had seen him fifteen minutes before the attack had begun.
He turned to look back at the command cabin. In front of it were three burned-out jeeps. Thoughtfully he turned and walked back to it. He had already gone through the cabin once but maybe there was something he had overlooked.
Cautiously he approached the door again. His automatic in his hand, he stood to one side and pushed it wide. He waited for a moment. There was no sound from inside.
He went through the doorway. The first room was a shambles. The rockets had torn gaping holes in the sides of the cabin. Papers and furniture were scattered around the room as if a tornado had struck.
He went through into the other room. Slowly he looked around. It was impossible. There was just no place for the man to hide. He started back outside then stopped.
He felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise. The man was here. His instinct told him. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t find him. The man was here.
He turned and slowly looked around the cabin again. Nothing. He stood very still for a moment and then went over to the bench beside the washbasin where he had noticed several oil lamps.
Braking them open, he quickly scattered the oil around the room. Then he took a chair and put it in the outer doorway and sat down on it, facing the room. He took a book of matches from his pocket, struck one, held it until the book erupted in flames then threw it into the room.
The fire raced rapidly across the floor, reaching, then climbing the walls. Smoke began to fill the room and still he sat. The heat grew intense, but he did not move.
Suddenly there was a faint sound from inside. He tried to peer through the smoke but saw nothing. Again the sound came, a creaking sound, as if a door were opening on rusted hinges. But he could see through to the other room and there were no other doors.
Then something on the floor moved. He got to his feet. Part of the wooden floor seemed to be shifting. He moved toward it on catlike feet.
He stopped at the side of the floorboard. Now he took out a handkerchief and held it over his nose and mouth to protect himself against the smoke. Suddenly the floorboard was flung to one side and a man sat up, coughing.
The Israeli agent nodded to himself in satisfaction. This was the man he had come to get. It was never the idealist who had to be feared, only the man who corrupted the ideal. This man was the corrupter. Slowly, deliberately, before the man even realized he was there, Dick emptied the clip of his automatic into him.
Then he turned and without even a backward look walked out of the cabin toward the road, leaving the dead Ali Yasfir lying in his fiery coffin.
He was a quarter of a mile down the road when he came upon them. He had just walked around a curve as they emerged from the forest. They stopped, staring at one another.
“Leila!” he said.
Hamid turned to her. He saw the strange look on her face. He remained silent.
“Dick,” she said in a strained voice. “I—”
The sound of a rifle shot interrupted her. A look of intense surprise suddenly appeared on Dick’s face. Then a strange bubble of blood appeared in the corner of his mouth and he slipped slowly to the road.
Hamid reacted immediately. Throwing Leila to the ground, he flung himself on his belly, facing the direction from which the shot had come. A moment later, he saw the man between the trees. Carefully he lined the sights of his automatic rifle between the two trees where the man would pass. He waited until the man was dead center then he squeezed the trigger. The automatic rifle almost cut the man in half.
He turned back to Leila. “Come on,” he said hoarsely. “Let’s get out of here!”
Dick moaned.
“We can’t leave him here,” Leila said. “He’ll die!”
“He’ll die anyway,” Hamid said callously. “Let’s go.”
“No. You’ll have to help me get him to the others.”
“Are you crazy? Do you know what will happen to you if you go back? If they don’t hang you, you’ll spend the rest of your life in jail!”
“I don’t care,” she said stubbornly. “Are you going to help me or not?”
Hamid looked at her and shook his head. He gave her the rifle. “Here, carry this.”
He bent over, picked Dick up and slung him over his shoulders. “Let’s go. There’ll be others behind that one in just a few minutes!”
***
Ben Ezra checked his watch. It was almost four o’clock. “Where’s that damn helicopter?”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the sound of the plane came from the distance. He peered into the sky, but now that the moon was gone, he could see nothing but the blackness of the night.
Ten minutes later, the sound came from overhead. A moment afterward it passed the crest of the mountain and disappeared.
A crackling of rifle fire came from the direction of the road through the forest. The Israeli corporal came running up. “They’re coming down the road after us!”
“Keep them busy. The helicopter should be down any minute.”
But the gunfire grew more intense and still the helicopter did not come down. Occasionally the sound of the engines could be heard, but then it would vanish.
The Israeli corporal returned. “We better make it quick, general,” he said. “They’re coming down with some real heavy stuff now.”
“Get back there!” Ben Ezra snapped. He peered up at the sky. “You know what I think? I think the damn fool up there is lost and can’t find us in the dark.”
“Maybe if we light a fire,” Baydr suggested. “It would serve as a beacon for him.”
“Good idea,” the general said. “But we’ve got nothing to make a big enough fire. It would take us an hour to gather enough branches and they wouldn’t burn anyway. Everything’s too damp from the night moisture.”
“I’ve got something that will burn.”
“What?”
Baydr gestured to the 707 under the camouflage. “That would make a hell of a fire.”
“You wouldn’t?” Ben Ezra’s voice was questioning.
The sounds of the fighting grew closer. “I came to get my family out of this and that’s what I’m going to do.”
He turned to Captain Hyatt. “Andy, how would you go about setting it on fire?”
The pilot looked at him.
“I’m not joking, Andy,” Baydr snapped. “Our lives depend on it!”
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