by Rene Fomby
Andy took the cup, then added a lump of sugar from the coffee table in front of her and stirred it. “Well, for one thing, the Tunisians do a pretty fair job keeping track of the CIA lackeys at the embassy out there. And that’s kind of a problem, because our little friend Blobby is located dead south of the military base at Remada, in a military exclusion zone. No way anyone from our embassy is going to get permission to poke around down there. At best they’d have an escort the whole time.”
“And a Naval Intelligence Officer and a semi-retired FBI agent are going to do any better?” Gavin asked.
“No, we’re not sending a Naval Intelligence Officer and an FBI agent,” she said with a mischievous wink. “We’re sending a head over heels in love hot to trot couple on their honeymoon.” She smiled. “And judging from what I saw at the airport, you’re just about perfect for the part, sweetie buns.”
34
Civitavecchia, Italy
The general cover story had them as slightly aging hippies out of Eugene, Oregon, both on their second marriages and both crazy about Star Wars.
Star Wars producer George Lucas had been so taken in by the architecture of the city of Tataouine in the southwest region of Tunisia that he named Luke Skywalker’s home planet Tatooine after it, and created a movie set for the hero’s family home a bit further west, in Tozeur. The props for the fictional city of Mos Espa also still exist, and were now a major tourist destination in Tunisia for fans of the series. Including, apparently, Mr. and Mrs. Harley Embree.
“Would you please knock it off, for Christ’s sake!” Gavin and Andy were hanging out on the dock in Civitavecchia, just outside of Rome, waiting for their turn to board the ferry to Tunis. To Gavin’s great annoyance, ever since they had stepped off the plane in Rome, Andy had taken advantage of every available opportunity to snuggle up close to him and sneak little forbidden kisses.
“If we’re going to pull this off—Harley, honey—we’re going to have to look like the real deal. A honeymoon couple, madly in love, lost on a grand adventure together.” Andy grabbed hold of his arm and leaned in close. “You, on the other hand, are putting out the perfect vibe for an old, worn out and hung out to dry hubbie. All you need to finish the look is a pot gut.”
Gavin wasn’t going to admit it, but deep down inside he was actually enjoying the attention. After the Blair County fiasco, when the FBI exiled him to North Africa as punishment for his mistakes— mistakes that had cost the lives of two up-and-coming agents, both of them personal friends— his wife decided it was the perfect time to test out her romantic talents once again on the open market. But his two kids were both way too young to make the sudden transition to becoming world traveling expatriates, and way too connected to their social lives in Santa Clara to tear them away even if he could. That left Gavin high and dry and all alone, living la vida loco in a country where 99% of the population was Muslim, and single attractive Western women were nowhere to be found. So, again, the feel of Andy’s soft and generous breast against his arm wasn’t necessarily all that uncomfortable. Except in the sense that it was.
He checked his watch again, impatiently. “Remind me one more time why we didn’t just fly straight to Tunis from Rabat? Why we had to detour through Rome instead?”
“Because two Americans flying into Tunis from Morocco would have been way too conspicuous, silly,” Andy answered with a grin. “This way, when we get there, we’re just two lovers lost in the crowd coming off the ferry. Besides, who could possibly resist the free onboard buffet? Yumm!”
“Which reminds me, we missed breakfast, and I’m famished.”
“Well, s-o-r-r-y, grumpy,” Andy drawled. “But a girl can’t exactly go out into the world without first making sure her makeup is perfect. Especially when absolutely everywhere she looks she’s surrounded by Italian supermodels out walking their dogs. Makes me feel like I’m the one who should be wearing a leash.”
Gavin stole a good long look at her. Tall, athletic, self confident. A beauty in every sense of the word. But he decided wisely to keep that opinion to himself. “I’m not grumpy, I’m just hungry,” He glanced down at his watch. “Look, we still have about twenty minutes or so to go before boarding. I’m going to duck back inside the terminal to see if I can snag a petrified sandwich from the food cart. Want something?”
“No, thanks, I’ll just wait out here with our stuff. I’m gonna save my calories for the buffet. And the bar.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be back in a sec.”
When he returned, carefully unwrapping an Italian hoagie as he approached, she relented and agreed to try a bite. “Ugh! How long has that been sitting there? A month?”
“At least,” Gavin agreed. “But beggars can’t be choosers. And it’ll probably be another two or three hours before we can get something better onboard.” He found a seat on a piling and tucked into the sandwich with relish, occasionally examining it closely and tossing some particularly unsavory morsel to the ground, where it was quickly snapped up by the pigeons swarming at his feet.
Finally, the time came to grab their bags and board the ship, bound for the twenty-five-hour trip across the open water to Tunis. The Grandi Navi Veloci ferry in front of them looked more like a cruise ship than a ferry. The ship had a capacity of two thousand passengers and space for over 700 vehicles below deck in its garages. According to the brochures, she also offered ample opportunities for passengers to while away the boring trip across the Mediterranean, including numerous restaurants, a small casino, a children’s play area, and a decent-sized shopping center. Checking in, they were given ID bracelets and a map with directions to their cabin, which turned out to be an efficient little room with its own toilet facilities and a single, queen-sized bed.
Once again, Gavin looked embarrassed. “Uh, twenty-five hours is a long time, and we want to get to Tunis nice and fresh, so I guess we’ll have to set up some kind of sleeping schedule. Or I can just try and grab a few winks up on deck.”
“Don’t be silly. We’re both professionals, so we can handle this. And we’re going to have to, all the way down to Remada.” Andy slung her suitcase up on the bed and started to lightly unpack. “That is, unless you want to stage some kind of public meltdown. The whole drink in the face thing, maybe. Otherwise, we’re just your average everyday horny honeymooners, and you can’t possibly think of anything better than staying in our room and getting up in my knickers.”
“You seem to be enjoying all of this a little bit too much,” Gavin complained, moving aside to let her pass him on the way to the bathroom.
“Oh, I am, I am,” she said, turning around to face him in the crowded cabin. “You are so much more fun to tease than all the little farm boys back in Missoula. But I suppose this would be the perfect time to tell you than none of this really matters all that much. Because, of course, I’m gay.”
Gavin looked instantly relieved. “You’re gay? Well, gosh, I guess that makes—”
“Well, actually, I’m not,” she interrupted him, giggling. “I’m every bit as randy for a dandy as any other hot-blooded American farm girl. But hey, if I were gay, this certainly would have been the perfect time to tell you.” And with a sweet wave she ducked into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
Gavin went from relieved to furious in less than a second. “Damn you. You. Just damn you!”
Suddenly the door opened just a crack and she stuck her head out, grinning. “Hey, Gavin, did I ever tell you that you’re really sexy when you’re mad?” Then, just like that, she disappeared again, leaving him staring at the closed bathroom door and wondering why he had ever agreed to this fool’s caper in the first place.
35
Tunis, Tunisia
“I reserved a Jeep, with oversized tires, perfect in case we have to take it off-road into the desert.” Gavin grabbed Andy’s overnight bag and slung it over his left shoulder, pulling the oversized roller along with his right. “Plus it has the right kind of adventuro
us look for two wild and crazy middle-aged kids out of Eugene, exploring the Tunisian desert on a whim.”
Andy raced to catch up with him, gripping a small pink suitcase of her own. “I am perfectly capable of carrying my own bags, you know.”
Gavin smiled back at her over his right shoulder. “And how would that look, Heather? Strapping young husband making his delicate little bride haul her own belongings to the car? I don’t know how things worked in Montana, but in Arizona that would have bought me at least a week of sleeping on the couch. And, you know, appearances do matter.”
“Okay,” she conceded. “At least all of our heavy stuff is in the roller. At your age, I wouldn’t want you to strain something.”
“You mean other than my patience?” He stopped behind a nondescript four-wheel drive Jeep with canvas flaps for the sides and fat, well-worn tires. “Well, Cinderella, here’s your chariot for the next week or so. Make yourself comfortable while I get all this stowed away in the back.”
To his surprise, she moved around him to his left and hopped up into the driver’s seat. She looked back to see his jaw dropping ever so slightly. “Got a problem with woman drivers?” she asked, arching her left eyebrow.
“No, well, is it even legal? I mean, this is a Muslim
country—”
“So much for doing your homework, Agent Larson,” she replied. “Since you clearly skipped out on all of the mandatory briefings on Tunisia I painstakingly printed out for you, at great personal cost I might add, let me provide you with the CliffsNotes version. Tunisia is currently the only true democracy in the Arab world. And fundamental human rights are not a new thing to the country—a law called the Code of Personal Status was adopted shortly after the country’s independence way back in 1956, which, among other things, gave women full legal status. Including the right to drive. It essentially put them on the same legal footing as the men, and in the process outlawed the long-standing practice of polygamy, as well as a husband’s right to unilaterally divorce his wife. Then there were even more reforms for women’s rights enacted in 1993. And, in case you’re wondering, all of that applies to everyone, regardless of their religion. So there, smarty pants. Hand over the keys and let’s get going.”
“Consider myself schooled, professor.” Chuckling lightly to himself, Gavin reached into his pants pocket for the keys and tossed them her way. She caught them one-handed with ease and started the Jeep as Gavin finished tying down their bags and climbing into the passenger seat. “Okay, where to now?” he asked her. “Do we line up a room for the night or get a jump on heading down toward Tozeur?”
Andy smiled in his direction and put the car in gear. “I think we have to ask ourselves, ‘What Would Heather Do?’ And I think the answer to that is pretty clear. After having been crammed into that rat hole of a cabin for a full day, Heather would want to grab a luxurious suite at a swanky hotel. Maybe someplace with a spa, so she could snag a nice massage and possibly even get her nails done. Hmm. Do they sell wine in this country? A nice bottle of wine would do wonders to get this girl in the mood…”
36
Tunis
“You sure you don’t want a massage?” Andy asked, stretching out nearly naked on the table, her male masseuse slowly working some kind of fragrant oil into her exposed shoulders and neck.
“Uh, no, that’s all right. Never could get used to the idea of having some stranger touching me like that.” Gavin was making a pointed effort not to look her way, and Andy was enjoying being the source of his obvious discomfort.
“Umm, I see. So which part is it, really, the stranger or the touching?”
She raised up on her elbows, and even looking off to the side, he couldn’t help but be aware of her soft, mostly exposed breasts, and the fact that her buttocks were covered by an almost threadbare patch of cotton cloth.
“Both,” he answered.
“Too bad,” she cooed, lying back down. “Because we have some time to kill after lunch, and you just always seem so tense.” She saw him turn back in her direction again, so she looked up and winked. “Oh well, it might have been fun.”
Gavin decided to change the subject. He couldn’t decide whether she was really serious about all the flirting, or whether she was just poking fun at his expense. And he hoped for both their sakes it was the latter. “Speaking of fun, dear, it looks like we now have one or two more days to kill around here. At least. I checked the weather reports, and a sandstorm has moved into southern Tunisia. We’re not going anywhere until all that blows over.”
“Oh, tant pis pour nous, I guess. But I suppose we can always go shopping. And I do want to check out the swimming pool on the roof.”
Gavin felt a migraine coming on. Swimming pool. That meant swimming suit. Things looked like they could hardly get any worse with this woman. “Yeah, well, I do have some good news. Turns out wine is perfectly legal in Tunisia, and unless you want something from Europe or the States, it’s freely available and actually pretty cheap.”
Andy stuck her lower lip out in an obvious pout. “Hunny bunny, you sure know how to woo a girl. Here it is our honeymoon, and your sense of splurging on your new bride is the local Boone’s Farm? Are we talking Strawberry Hill, or maybe you think I’d like Apricot Mist?”
“It’s not Boone’s Farm, Heather.” This little back-and-forth, hot-and-cold thing she had going on was becoming increasingly frustrating for Gavin, particularly since he had to stay in character and remember not to slip up and call her Andy. “As a matter of fact, Tunisian wines are pretty well regarded by the experts. The local industry was originally created by French enologists, back when Tunisia was a French colony. When the froggies left, the wine industry continued to grow and mature, and now it’s a major export item for them.”
“Well, okay then. I stand duly corrected. And, just to let you know, Aziz here is done with my backside, so it’s time to flip over. Would you be a dear and grab me a towel to cover up with?” Andy pointed to a table just behind him, where a small pile of skimpy looking white towels was neatly stacked.
“Sure, no problem.” Gavin turned and grabbed a towel, but when he turned back, she had already flipped over on her back. The small piece of cloth was lying across her loins, and she was using her hands to cover her breasts. “Oh!”
“Don’t be such a silly willy,” she scolded him. “After all, we’ve been married almost a week now. So don’t act like it’s something you haven’t already seen before.” She wiggled her hands. “Come on, cover them up for me. I don’t think it’s appropriate for a newlywed to share any of this with her masseuse. Is it, Aziz?”
Aziz shook his head, somewhat reluctantly it seemed to Gavin. Now that Andy had left him no wiggle room in the matter, he stretched the towel out delicately and spread it across Andy’s chest, careful to limit any contact with her naked flesh, then stepped back as quickly as he could. “Look, An—uh, Heather—I gotta go run a quick errand. Meet you back at the room when you’re finished up here?”
“Sure thing, lover boy. And while you’re out, see if you can snag a bottle or three of that Tunisian wine. I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”
“Will do,” Gavin agreed, heading for the door and suddenly realizing he had no idea what kind of wine she preferred. “By the way, Heather, white or red?”
“Surprise me. You always seem to know what I like.” Once again, she raised up slightly and winked at him. “And make it quick. I want to try out some of my new swimming suits on you before we head to the pool. I bought a skimpy new red bikini in Paris that was outrageously expensive for the amount of fabric involved, and I have a feeling you’ll love it.”
Skimpy red bikini. Just the image he didn’t need to have seared into his mind as he turned and raced out the door.
37
Tunis
When Gavin finally got back to the hotel, Andy was curled up on a sofa, wrapped in a plush white bathrobe and flipping through a Tunisian guide book. She immediate
ly noticed that he was carrying two bottles of wine, one a local Chardonnay and one a Cabernet varietal. And something else wrapped in a plain brown bag.
“Honey, I’m home,” he sang out as he opened the minibar to stow away the Chardonnay. “And what have you been up to while I’ve been out running errands?”
“Just catching up on what I don’t know about Tunisia.” Andy pointed toward his brown paper package. “What’s in the bag?”
Gavin smiled. “I picked up a little insurance for our trip. There’s been a rash of kidnappings and robberies down along the border with Libya. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a little deterrent on hand, just in case. So I checked in with an old buddy of mine at the embassy, and he was able to scare up a fully loaded nine mil. All on the down low, of course.”
“And you’re not worried about being caught with that thing?” she asked. “Last I checked, being an American in possession of an illegal weapon will net you at least twenty years in a no-frills Tunisian hotel, all expenses paid. Assuming you’d even survive the first year or so. Pretty boy that you are.”
Gavin tossed the gun onto the bed. “My plan is to keep it pretty well hidden away, but still close enough at hand in case we need it. And if indeed we do need it, prison is a much better alternative to being dead. Sad as it is to say out loud, I’d just have to put my faith in Washington’s always-capable hands at that point to get us out alive.”
Andy nodded her agreement as she rose languorously from the sofa, tossing the guide book onto the seat behind her. “Just wish you’d have let me know ahead of time. Might have saved you the trouble.”
“What do you mean?”
