by Tony Lavely
The next two hours took them into night as well as to their destination. The man Sam introduced looked very European to have the name Sheikh Ilyas Dalila. After the long day, she also felt annoyed that when he came out of the small stone building before them, he took a look at their two cartoon trucks standing in the glare of the floodlights and began to laugh. He’s got no reservations.
They had all donned robes similar to the ones worn by the, client? Customer? Friend? Beckie couldn’t decide exactly how to think of him. Sam had said he’d been a great deal of help, and at the same time, that when he disagreed with a plan, he made that just as obvious. Once the explanation was given, he made his counter arguments and when the decision was made accepted it, whether it went his way or not. He generally declined to assist with a plan he didn’t agree with, although Sam said he never actively thwarted one… that Sam knew of.
She pulled the robe around once she climbed out of the truck and gave Stacy and then the Chief a hand down from atop the load. Next, I better see what Sam’s planning. She came up behind the Captain as he made his way to greet their contact.
The two men greeted each other in Arabic, which upset Beckie, not because they did, but because her Arabic consisted of hello, goodbye, where may I find the ladies’ room and I don’t understand. She used the first of these, then continued, “I abjectly apologize for my unfamiliarity with your language. I hope this will not interfere with our conversations. It is a pleasure to meet you at long last.”
“English will be perfectly suitable,” he said, and Beckie recognized the accent: similar to Derek Hamilton’s. “It will be the least of our difficulties.” While his smile beamed out at her, the implied threat wasn’t dulled. “I also am pleased to meet you, who have assisted in our efforts to bring reason to our country.”
Beckie wasn’t sure that “reason” was what she was helping to bring, but decided that conversation would be better held under different circumstances. Like, at home at the Nest!
He ushered both of them into the building. The inside was in better condition than the outside. Four pieces of furniture stood there: a metal desk with chair, two metal side chairs from the same set, and a table that had been built up to standing height. He waved them to the chairs while he went to the desk, seating himself on the corner instead of the chair. “We have light for another hour, approximately. Let us begin. First, coffee.” As he said this, a person—Beckie couldn’t determine age or gender under the robe and the deep cowl the server wore; she decided it must be a girl, no Arab man would ever—entered the room. “Solène, you may drop the pretense now.” Dalila’s tone was intended to rebuke, and the server started before placing the tray she was carrying on the table. Then she threw the cowl back and ripped the robe from her shoulders.
Blonde hair cascaded half-way down her back. She wore scraps of fabric intended to make a bikini over her deep, all-over tan.
“Pardon me for a brief moment while I speak with her. Enjoy the coffee, please.” He began a monologue in French that started reasonably modulated, but grew louder and more harsh as he went on. Beckie touched Sam’s arm; at the table they poured and added sugar. I won’t drink much, she promised herself, and when she tasted it, regretted the thought. Sweet, perfectly brewed, and completely unlike any of the drinks she’d had in Egypt that called themselves coffee. Dare I ask how this was made?
Dalila’s voice had dropped into the tone of rational; the girl’s head was down, looking at her hands, Beckie guessed, which were pressed into her belly above the very low cut swimsuit bottoms she wore. Beckie was embarrassed to stare at her; she turned to Sam and whispered, “What’s his game?”
He nodded, then shook his head. “No idea. Never seen any women here before.”
That allowed Beckie to stare, the idea that this was all pre-planned for their benefit. The girl was terrified. If she’s acting, I can’t imagine her motivation. Or the experience she’s calling on for this performance. Tears trickled down her cheeks; her lips, though pressed together, still quivered, as did the muscles of her arms and chest. Her almost uncovered breasts bounced as she gasped for breath.
After another minute or two, Dalila stopped speaking in French. “Go, sit there.” He pointed at the chair behind the desk. “I apologize. My… daughter, both a joy and a terror.”
“No more than you deserve,” the girl said from behind.
He gave them a small twisted smile, then, in a light-hearted, almost bouncy voice, said, “I hope the coffee is satisfactory.”
“I won’t speak for the Captain, but I find it unbelievable,” Beckie said. “I’m afraid to ask how you manage to obtain it.”
“Afraid? Why?”
“I’d be drinking it every hour of the day.”
“Have another then.”
“No, I’m still jet-lagged, and the caffeine won’t help me adjust.” She went back to her chair and decided to leave it facing the desk, and the girl, still painfully tense. She sat. “We’ve used up fifteen minutes of your light; let’s move along. What do you need from me?”
He ambled around to take the other chair, turning it to Beckie, and sat. Sam went to lean against the desk beside Beckie after an apologetic look at Solène.
“I made enquiries,” Dalila said, “when Captain Dabron told me you were visiting our little garden of eden… You know that some scholars believe we are not far from where it was?” Beckie nodded. “I discovered that several people think most highly of you, and your skill at the table. So highly, in fact, that they made unbelievable claims about your… prowess, I think. Even turning back the tsunami—”
“I’m now convinced that this is a set-up, Sheikh Dalila. There was no turning back the tsunami. The men who you might have talked with will all have been in Egypt…Yes, I believe they are still there, and none would allow that I had any… ability beyond that of a conniving woman, quick with her words, and in the event, supported by a problem everyone knew had to be solved the way it was.”
She stood and walked behind Solène, forcing her to be in Dalila’s vision if he looked in Beckie’s direction. “I come here, to your place if not your home, to determine how our team can assist you, since our interests seemed to run in the same direction and you are willing to provide a bucketful of money to further those interests. I am greeted first with your threat delivered via the Captain, that you may choose to have nothing to do with me. Then, our little convoy is damaged but not destroyed en route, at a location which might have been chosen because from there, we could continue, neither easily nor comfortably, but continue nonetheless. On our arrival, you greet us laughing maniacally, as if your plan had succeeded beyond your dreams. Now…” She placed her hands on Solène’s bare shoulders. “… you bring in your… to use your word, ‘daughter’—”
“That’s right, he’s my da,” Solène whispered.
“Good. Means one thing I can trust him on… if I can trust you?” She rubbed the girl’s shoulders to relieve any sting from the accusation. “So, you bring your daughter into our meeting in a scenario that is so obviously fabricated that even I, a woman, can recognize it. Did one of your ‘enquiries’ result in the suggestion that I am bisexual? Or is the display solely to embarrass Solène?” She leaned down, slid her hands down the girl’s arms and whispered much too softly for anyone else to hear, “You are marvelously attractive, girl.” She straightened to continue, “Finally, you bestow on me compliments that you can only have made up from a whole cloth. That they sound sweet adds nothing to their veracity.”
She took a few steps into the room and pulled her robe off over her head, then handed it to Solène. “If you are permitted, put it on, please.” As she did, Beckie stomped toward Dalila. “If your coffee wasn’t so damn good, I’d tell the Captain to saddle up and find us a new partner. However… I’ll ask again, what do you need from me? From us?” She paused to glare at him. “And what is the purpose of this charade?” She waved at Solène, now inside the robe.
“Where shall I start?”
Dalila’s expression left no doubt that he was amused, not at all discomfited by her words or actions. Could it be I’m doing what he wants?
“Well, easiest first, how about that?”
“Good. I need from you a renewal of our contract, assurance that you will provide support and supplies as needed, and at the current rate. The term can be anything over a year unless hostilities end sooner.”
“Until we finish I won’t commit, but at present, a one year extension would suit me. Next?”
“We need better medical personnel than are available, well, not better but more, along with medicine and similar supplies.”
“I will not allow any of our medical people to be commandeered. Medical supplies should be less of a problem than the other items you already receive. I will speak with Doctor Ardan in the morning; if possible, we will hire and transport appropriate medical staff… Where would you set them up?”
“There is a building nearby, in Al Quaryatayn, that we would use.”
“Clean it up in preparation. Unless we have unexpected problems, your new medical team should arrive with the next supply plane. I trust you’ll take better care of the access?”
“Please—”
“Don’t protest. The payoff is too great for you not to have arranged the IED. You’ll pay the full amount of the bill, waiving the late delivery clause. The doctors and nurses will work for me; I’ll adjust the billings to cover them. No one here will give them any grief, understand?”
“Fully.”
Good, he’s getting serious. Finally! “What can be next on your list?”
He finally turned in the chair to face her after a glance at Sam, who was watching with a tiny smile on his face. When Beckie glanced at Solène, the girl remained seated in the chair behind the desk, watching everything with a questioning mien.
“The item of greatest importance to me.” He flicked his hand toward his daughter; she started and sat up, rigid. “The purpose of the… charade…” He pronounced it ‘shah-rah-d.’ “… was two-fold. I freely admit that my first, to throw you off-balance and keep you ‘on the back foot,’ as they say, has apparently failed completely.” He turned to cross his legs, now sitting with his arm over the back of the chair. “While your opinion of my comments about you has merit, it is certain that the men you worked with in Egypt have much respect for you, at least until they are forced to put it in words. I understand their statements about the woman who brought them to a speedy agreement.
“Strange as it may seem, your repudiation of my feeble tricks bodes well for my second mission. I wish you to bring my daughter with you when you leave; keep her safe until I can come for her.”
She saw Sam’s eyebrows rise toward the ceiling; Solène’s eyes flashed wide when she understood. Beckie sat back and smiled, a thin, tight-lipped smile. “What fee do you propose for this service?”
“It is difficult to say. If I give too low a figure, you… and Solène, too, may well believe I do not value her sufficiently. If I make it too high, you will wonder what possible threat could cause me to sacrifice so much to have her away.” He wrung his hands. “It would be better for you to propose a figure, I think.”
“I’ll be honest. We’ll take her out of here for free. While I have seen worse settings, this is close to the nadir. I’ll decide on the fee when you come to get her back. It will not be small, but history says that, if you wish, it will be affordable.” She watched Sam grinning again, and Solène’s expression… is she happy? Relieved? That’s a good sign. Maybe he won’t try to kill us leaving. “When do you anticipate that happy event to occur?”
His grin, like Sam’s, was wide and seemingly unforced. “At the beginning of the year. January.”
“I must be in Paris in January. That will be an easier trip for you than all the way to Nassau. We will make final arrangements later, if you are agreed.”
“I am. Does this conclude the evening’s work?” Dalila asked.
Beckie looked at him, sure her surprise showed for the first time. However, before she could respond, the lights flickered, then flared and died.
“Ah. As I said, limited power. Captain, you know the way?”
“Yes. We’ll head—”
“We’ll take Solène, too. She’s under our protection as of now.” She turned to the girl, still sitting. “What do you need to take with you? One pack is all you can carry.”
“That is so not a problem. Your robe about doubled my wardrobe.” She stood and walked to Beckie, holding out a hand. “And there are no amenities!”
“Wait til you see my tent,” Beckie said with a chuckle. “A whole new meaning to ‘no amenities.’ And reveille at…” She cast a glance at Sam.
“Oh-five hundred should do. Nothing else going back, right?”
As they strode through the evening dark, Beckie said, “Are we all going to head back to your base?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “I’ll find another pickup, and we’ll return after Ben and Gillian drop you both off at the airport.” He took a few more steps. “I’d leave Doctor Ardan to get started, but…”
“I for one am not comfortable with leaving anyone here by themselves. Especially Millie.”
“I agree, which is why I was hesitating. Maybe Ed, though, along with Shorty… Yeah. That’ll free up some seats, and they can find out what’s been screwed up since we left.”
Beckie chuckled along with him, before laughing out loud when she saw the set-up. Her tent, recognizable by its small size, had been erected in the center of the space the team had claimed, with the two trucks walling two sides and the other tents protecting the open area.
She pushed Solène through the opening, and crawled in behind. “Home sweet home, for tonight, anyway. Tomorrow, we’ll use the Captain’s tent at the base camp, then we’ll be on the airplane.” The two girls wriggled around finding comfortable positions.
As they settled, Sam’s voice came though the wall. “Mrs. Jamse, if you want a larger tent…”
“We’re good.”
“Stay inside then. We’ve got a guard posted and so does Dalila, so anything larger than a rat is fair game to be perforated. Gillian’ll be by in the morning to rouse you for chow.”
“Thanks, Captain. Appreciate it. And thank whoever set the tent up while we were inside.”
“You got it.” His footsteps drifted away.
“Are you really his boss?”
“Are you really bare-assed under that?”
“What… Oh, I see. Yeah. I am and you are.”
“When will your dad… he is really your father, or is that part of the game?”
“He really is. He’s been trying to fight this bloody war, and then Maman died a couple months ago and I got sent here so he could… guardian me, I guess…”
“Oh. Sorry to hear about your mom.”
“Da said your Mr. Jamse died recently, too?” In the dim light Beckie used inside, she saw Solène’s hand flash to her mouth. Then, “You’re Mrs. Jamse. So, that means…”
“My husband. My love forever. It’s okay, I’m almost able to think about it now.”
“I’m so sorry…”
I won’t get in a fight with her about who’s sorrier. “When will he give you your passport? I’m assuming you do have one?”
“Sure. It’s with what there is of my stuff. We can get it in the morning.” She wriggled her hip on the pad Beckie’d laid down. “This robe’s not all that comfortable.”
“I’d suggest you make do. We’ll outfit you when we get to the airplane. I’m shutting the light now.”
This time, Beckie wasn’t quite as ready to knife the hand on her foot at… “What time is it, anyway?”
“Five-ten. You two have time for washing your faces before the chow’s all gone. The sheikh sent word he’ll provide breakfast.”
“Cool. Seen Millie yet?”
“She’s a couple minutes ahead of you.”
The fare wasn’t all that much better than MREs, but it was fresh and hot
, which counted for something. With her only cup of coffee—if nothing goes wrong today—she planned with Millie just how they could meet Dalila’s requirement to supply a hospital out here, 120 or so kilometers from Damascus, where everything that anyone would need existed—none of it accessible to them. She took notes with her phone; the work she had to do back home, since Millie was staying with Sam and the team, would be significant, but it was the kind of work she’d lived for since Ian had invited her into his team.
Gillian had disappeared taking Solène—under strict orders not to lose her, since Beckie had taken responsibility—to collect whatever she could fit in the extra pack. Beckie really didn’t believe that a teenager would have no material possessions, no matter the circumstances, especially given her father’s cash position. And I thought I was well off after splitting Werner’s money.
When Millie’d given her all the instruction she could, Beckie wandered out into the compound to find Sam. He was working with Gillian, making checks on the two trucks. Solène was seated on her pack a few feet away; when she saw Beckie, she rose and approached.
“You’re going in and talk to Da, right? Before you leave?”
“The Captain and I both are. Now; he’s ready.”
“Can I come along?”
Beckie nodded, and the three of them headed toward the building. “Any problem with the trucks?” she asked Sam.
“No. I asked Gillian to make sure we’d be good for the trip back, is all.”
“I’m sure it will be a cake-walk, Captain,” Beckie said with grin.
“Absolutely.”
