by David Archer
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Prudence said. “Is he still in the same place?”
“Yes, right where he’s been for the last fifteen years. If you go to see him, please tell him to remember to bring meat home with him.”
Prudence smiled. “No problem, I’ll be glad to.” She collected Noah and his team by eye, and they filed out of the building and into the cars.
The market was not far away, and it took only a couple of minutes to get there. Most of the delay was caused by foot traffic, but that seemed to be a common factor in the refugee camps. When they arrived, Prudence climbed out once again, followed by everyone from both cars.
The market was similar to an old world bazaar, with stalls set up in a haphazard grid work. It took her only a moment to find the one she was looking for, where two men were surrounded by a dozen women speaking rapidly in French.
“Looks like we’ll have to wait a minute,” she said softly to Noah. “Sales are definitely brisk, aren’t they?”
“Very much so,” Noah said. “Incidentally, I noticed that most of the people we’ve spoken to in the camps seem to speak English quite well. Why is that?”
“Schools,” Prudence said. “Most of the schools in the camps teach both Spanish and English. French and Arabic are so common that everyone learns them, but with Spain so close, it seemed logical for the people here to learn Spanish. As for English, a lot of their teachers have actually been to school in the U.K. As far as they’re concerned, English is pretty much the universal language outside of Africa. As you can see, they had quite an effect on the refugees.”
Slowly, the haggling women walked away, some of them burdened with several obviously heavy camel hides. One of the men turned and noticed Prudence standing there, and gave her a smile. As soon as he finished with the customer he was talking to, he immediately turned and beckoned her closer.
“Hello, Prudence,” he said. “Are you looking for a camel hide?”
Prudence laughed. “No, not today,” she said. “I wanted to ask you about the tractors. Are they holding up for you?”
The man smiled. “As long as we have fuel,” he said. “I plan to buy more tomorrow.”
“Good. Tariq Doumaz, I’d like you to meet James McConnell. Jim is here to talk with the president about diplomatic relations, and he wanted to see the camps. What would you think about using the tractors for moving water containers? I think I can get a few old trailers and hook them together, so that we can put water tanks on them. If the tractors could pull several of them at a time, it would make it a lot easier to distribute water around the camp.”
Doumaz seemed to think about her question for a moment. “It would depend on how large the tanks are,” he said, “but I’m sure each of them could pull three or four. If we could bring them to the tankers when they come, then set them back out in the villages—that would certainly be better than having to walk so far with jugs of water.”
“I thought so, too. Okay, let me see what I can do. Oh, I saw Dalia a few minutes ago, and she wanted me to remind you to bring home meat. Are you having a special dinner tonight?”
“Hah! Every dinner with my beautiful wife is special. But thank you for reminding me, I probably would have forgotten.” He shook his head. “And then I would never hear the end of it.”
“You’re welcome, and I’ll see you again soon,” Prudence said. Noah bowed briefly to the man, and then they all went back to the cars.
“It’s almost 4,” she said. “By the time we get across the desert again, it’ll be getting close to six. We probably should start back towards Tindouf.”
“I agree,” Noah said. “The only problem I see, here, is that there’s no place to put a smart gun. If Doumaz is a legitimate target, I may have to come back and hunt him down.”
“Too bad,” Prudence said. “He’s actually a likable old cuss. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t cut your throat for a dollar, if he got the chance, though. I can show you where he sleeps, if necessary. A gunshot would probably bring his neighbors running, I’m afraid. Things are different here than in Boujdour; there aren’t as many shootings, here.”
“I don’t have to use a gun,” Noah said. Prudence looked at him, but said nothing.
They made it back to the hotel before six, which gave Noah and the team a chance to shower and get the desert dust off of themselves. They didn’t rush, but they were all dressed and ready for quite some time before the driver arrived to pick them up again.
This time, Noah chose to bring Neil and Jenny along. The limousine had two fold-down jump seats in front of the big back seat, so Neil and Marco took those, leaving the comfort of the back seat for Noah and the girls.
They pulled up at the same building they had visited that morning, and the driver held the door open as they all climbed out. Oni appeared as they prepared to enter the building, and greeted them with a smile.
“Mr. McConnell,” he said. “The President is so glad you could make it. Please, follow me.”
He turned instantly and led them into the building and through the hallway on the main floor to a large room toward the rear that had been set up as a dining hall. There were two long tables with a dozen chairs or more on each side, and Oni escorted them directly to the far end of the right-hand table. President Abimbola was sitting at the head of the table, and rose to his feet when he saw Noah.
“Mr. McConnell,” he said. “It is good to see you again, and your lovely assistant. I see that you have gained a couple of people?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Noah said. “May I present Garrett Stevens, my computer expert, and his assistant, Connie Marchand. They do their best to make sure I know how to check my emails.”
“It is my pleasure to meet you both,” Abimbola said. “Please, please, be seated. There is tea, and I believe we have coffee, if you would prefer it.”
“Tea will be fine,” Noah said, and the others agreed. They took their seats, with Noah in the place of honor at the president’s right, and the rest of them taking chairs along the same side. They were just getting seated when a courier came rushing in and whispered into Oni’s ear.
Oni suddenly stared at the courier wide-eyed, then bent down to whisper into the president’s ear. Abimbola seemed startled by what was said, and looked suddenly at Noah. He stared into Noah’s eyes for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing.
“Mr. McConnell,” he said through his laughter, “someone has just sent me an amusing message. Apparently, there is someone within our country who believes that you are an assassin, sent to kill me.”
Chapter FIVE
Noah’s eyes went wide as he stared at the president.
“Mr. President,” he began, “I can assure you…”
“Please, Mr. McConnell,” Abimbola said, “I don’t believe this for a moment. This is only the latest in a long line of ridiculous rumors that have been coming my way since we announced our secession. If it comforts you, I have also been told that the Russian emissary, who will arrive tomorrow, plans to poison me. Despite these stories, I think I probably have several years left in these old bones. I told you about it to share the laugh, not to worry you.”
Noah allowed himself an expression of amused wonder. “Well, I’m not sure I can find it in myself to laugh about it,” he said. “I promise you this: you would be the last person on any target list I might have.”
He turned and glanced at Sarah and the others, who were all staring at him and the president. Sarah’s eyes told him that she was wondering if they had somehow been exposed, so he turned quickly back to Abimbola.
“I’d be curious to know where this rumor came from,” he said, “if that might be possible. To be honest, I can’t believe anyone would think such a thing. I mean, do I look like some kind of assassin?”
“Of course not,” Abimbola said. “As I said, I have lately been warned that almost everyone I know wants me dead. Why, even Oni, who has been my friend and adviser and aide for many years, is reported to be planning to have me
assassinated. I know that cannot be true, because I have repeatedly asked him to serve as my vice president, but he has declined. I do not believe he would stand to gain anything from my death, so the entire idea is ludicrous.”
Noah smiled. “If you can’t trust your oldest friend,” he said, “who could you trust? Personally, I would think people might want to see how you do as interim president before they start thinking about getting rid of you.”
Abimbola beamed at him. “Exactly,” he said. “They should at least wait to see whether I get us through this fantastic endeavor. Then, if I were to fail, they will have to bother trying to kill me themselves. President Belkacem will be more than happy to do that for them, if he gets the chance.” He waved a hand in dismissal of the entire conversation. “Forget all that,” he said. “Let us enjoy ourselves for this evening. Our dinner tonight is traditional fare for our region, couscous with lamb. If you have never had it, you are in for a treat.”
“I’m certainly looking forward to it,” Noah said with a smile. “It’ll be a new experience for me.”
“I’ve had it,” Jenny said. “Personally, I love it.”
“Oh, I know,” Sarah said. “I had it a couple of years ago, I thought it was wonderful.”
Noah shrugged. “Seems like the ladies know more than I do about it,” he said.
Abimbola chuckled again. “Isn’t that always true?”
Noah’s phone vibrated at that moment, and he slipped it out of his pocket, holding it below the table as he glanced at it.
All E & E operatives are trained in certain signals, and one of them involves a call from a contact named Horatio. Any call from Horatio was an order to immediately cease all operations and disappear, then wait for further contact.
The caller ID said Horatio.
Noah looked up at the president and gave him a shy grin. “Mr. President, I hate to do this, but I need to take this call. It’s a friend of mine, and he’s been looking after my mother for me.”
Abimbola was on his feet instantly. “Of course, of course,” he said. “Please, you can have privacy if you step through that door. It goes into a smaller dining room, but no one is in there right now.”
“Thank you,” Noah said. He rose and started toward the door, putting the phone to his ear. “Hello? Horatio?”
“Hey, Jim,” said a voice that Noah recognized as Donald Jefferson. “I hate to bother you, old buddy, but there is a problem. Are you by yourself?”
Noah stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, touching a button on the side of his phone. “Yes,” he said, “and the phone is scrambled.”
“Good. God help us, Noah, Allison’s been arrested. Apparently, there was a secret Senate committee investigating some of our operations, and it’s been decided that the Morgan Mafia case violated the civil rights of Morgan and his crew. We don’t know what’s going on for sure, but it seems like some kind of witchhunt. We’ve got FBI on the way down here to go through our records, but they’ll play hell trying to break through our encryption. And, Noah—they’ve got warrants for you and your entire team. The only one with you at the moment who is safe is Jenny, because they don’t have anything on her. You need to abort your mission and get out of Algeria as quickly as possible.”
“Will anybody else be coming in to take over? I think this is an important mission…”
“Team Unicorn is already on the way. Make whatever excuses you have to, but get out of that country. Cut all ties with any of our intel assets over there and make whatever exit you can. If CIA gets dragged into this, and they almost certainly will, you could have crosshairs painted on all of your foreheads before morning.”
“Right at the moment, we’re at a dinner with the new president. It’ll take a couple of hours, I’m sure, before I can even get out of this building. What about our cover identities, are they compromised?”
“Not yet, but I don’t know how long they’ll be clean. Noah, this almost feels like some kind of coup. There is already talk of replacing the entire senior staff here, including me and Parker.”
“All right, let’s look at it from another angle. Who would be out to get Allison?”
“I’ve no idea,” Jefferson said. “I’m sure she has a few political enemies, but I am frankly shocked that even the Senate could pull this off. We’ve got a call in to the president, now, but haven’t gotten any answers yet. This all went down about twenty minutes ago, and I’ve been swamped until just now. Get the rest of your team, let them know what’s happening, and get out of that country. If you can make it to Barcelona, we have our own station chief there who will give you whatever support you need. I’ll text you the number.”
“All right,” Noah said. “We’ll get there as soon as we can.”
“Good,” Jefferson said. “Get to Barcelona, any way you can.”
Noah ended the call and put the phone back into his pocket, then turned and went back to the main dining room. As he took his seat at the table again, President Abimbola looked at him with concern in his eyes.
“I hope everything is all right,” Abimbola said, making it sound like a question.
“Mom seems to be having a rough time,” Noah said. “I’m afraid the State Department has been notified. They’ve decided to recall me and send a new team in to take over. The agreements we made this morning will still stand, but there will be a new emissary here by tomorrow sometime.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Do you need to leave now?”
“Mr. President, I would not want to in any way dishonor or insult you or your country,” Noah said. “We can make arrangements after the dinner.”
Abimbola smiled and inclined his head. “Then let us dispense with all of the formalities,” he said. He turned to Oni. “Oni, if you would be so kind as to tell the servers that we are ready to eat?”
Oni Zidane bowed to the president and hurried away. A moment later, the servers appeared and began setting bowls of couscous before each of them. Following Noah’s lead, the others ate slowly and made small talk with the people across the table from them, although Jenny and Neil were forced to rely on Marco to interpret. Their opposites spoke no English, so they resorted to French.
“Your mother,” Abimbola said, “is she ill?”
“Apparently,” Noah said. “I was informed that she was suddenly taken to the hospital today, quite unexpectedly.”
“I will pray that it is nothing serious. Has she had health problems like this before?”
“No, actually. Until now, she’s always seemed to be the picture of health. Everyone always relies on her, but sometimes it seems that she takes too much on herself. This may be one of those times, but I won’t know the details until I’m back home.”
“I see. Is there anything I can do to expedite your return? I presume you have an airplane waiting for you?”
“No, our plane was only passing through when we arrived,” Noah said. “We’ll have to get to Barcelona, and then the arrangements will be made from there to get us on home.”
Abimbola’s eyes went wide. “Barcelona? My goodness, that is a difficult journey by automobile, and to fly would mean going through Algiers. That may not be a good idea for you, considering the purpose of your visit here at this time.” He closed his eyes in thought for a moment, then opened them and turned to Oni, who was standing beside him. “Oni, does General Zaki have an aircraft that could fly our guests to Barcelona tonight?”
“I’m certain he does, Sahib,” Oni said formally. He always spoke formally when there were others present. “Shall I call him?”
“Please do. Explain that our friend Mr. McConnell and his party is in need of immediate transportation to Barcelona, so that he can get home to be with his ailing mother, and to make the arrangements as soon as possible.”
Oni bowed and stepped out of the room. He was back in less than ten minutes and leaned down to whisper to Abimbola, who broke out into a smile and turned to Noah.
“It seems that, as the president, I have some i
nfluence with the chief of our military forces. We have an airplane that can leave in two hours and take you directly to Barcelona. It is being fueled as we speak. Perhaps it will help you to reach your mother more swiftly.”
Noah tried to look humble. “Mr. President, I don’t know what to say. That would be most helpful.”
“It is nothing,” Abimbola said. “If my mother were living, she would want me to do this for you. Consider it an act of good faith on our part, to show your government that we understand honor and family.”
Noah glanced at Sarah and the others, who were watching him closely.
“I guess you overheard,” he said. “Mom is very sick, and she’s been taken to the hospital. Mr. Donaldson is arranging for someone else to take over our mission here so that I can go home to be with her. President Abimbola has graciously offered us a flight to Barcelona, where we can pick up a diplomatic flight back home.”
Sarah leaned slightly, so that she could look directly into Abimbola’s eyes. “Thank you, Mr. President,” she said. “Jim’s mother is very special, and he should be there in case this is serious.”
Marco, Neil, and Jenny all echoed her, and Abimbola smiled broadly. “This is true of all of us,” he said. “Mothers deserve their children being with them when they are suffering. I am only pleased that I am able to offer this minor bit of assistance.”
Noah finished eating while he and Abimbola continued to talk. He mentioned that he had a tour of a couple of the refugee camps, and suggested that the president request further humanitarian aid from the United States as part of the deal for the new military base. Abimbola seemed very pleased with the suggestion, and went on to tell him a great deal about the Sahrawis and their situation.
Noah, who didn’t anticipate ever having to come back to the region, still filed the information away in his mind. The Sahrawi strength of spirit and resilience was something he wanted to remember as part of his constant study of human nature.
