“What’s up?” Mac said.
“We have to go to Iraq.” Gideon said.
The two men stared at him, not sure if it was a joke.
“Yeah, I know. And to make it worse, we need to go to a place that’s closer to the border with Iran than with any of the other bordering countries,” Gideon continued.
Silence.
“Hence the need for a consultation…” Gideon said hesitantly.
Both the pilots started to speak at once. “You can’t…” “It’s impossible!”
Rei stepped in. “Ok, we know it’s not…easy. But that’s where we need to go. I don’t think where we’re going is near any big war zones or anything…”
Jack snorted. “Mum, the whole country is a war zone. And they do not take kindly to regular Americans these days. If you could even get permission to get in, you would have to have an armed escort, and you could only go where they let you go.”
“So… I guess we need an unofficial way to get in, then.” Rei said, furrowing her brow.
Mac spoke, “I think it might be time to tell us what’s going on. We’re just pilots for hire, we’re not some kind of militia. But I’ve seen those guys that are after you, and I was in the Marines for ten years. If I can help…well, I’ll help.”
Gideon and Rei looked at each other for a moment, then Gideon shrugged and told the men the story, starting with the theft in Lisbon.
“If I hadn’t seen those guys, those brothers or whatever they are, I wouldn’t believe you for a skinny minute,” Mac said. “But they’re real, and they seem pretty dedicated. Jack, you know anybody in Kuwait?”
Jack thought for a minute, then opened his desk drawer and withdrew an address book. “I had a friend at university that went into the military after we graduated. He stayed in the Army ten years or so, then got out and has been doing consulting in the Middle East. I do not know where he is—I have not talked to him in some time. I have an old number…” He pulled out his cell and punched in the international code followed by the number. After a short wait, he spoke into the phone. “Richard! It is Jack Magara! I am needing some information, and I thought that you might be able to provide it. If you can, give me a call, please.” He recited his number. “Webele!” And he hung up.
“I do not know where he is living. It is 9:00 in the morning in the States, but if he is in the Middle East somewhere, the time will be closer.” He shrugged. “I do not know another person who could help you with this.”
McMillan had been in thought while Jack was on the phone. Now he said, “How far in country to you need to get, if you can cross at the Kuwaiti border?”
“Two hundred miles… On the Tigris River,” Gideon answered.
Mac grimaced. “Well that’s certainly a challenge. Obviously, you’re going to have to make an unauthorized crossing. You’re going to have to have a local guide, and some protection. Two hundred miles in that terrain… I don’t suppose you’d consider a camel?”
“That’s not exactly the quick in-and-out I was hoping for,” Gideon laughed.
“No. But it would be the least noticeable. So you need a truck that doesn’t arouse suspicion, a driver, ditto. Somebody with a gun. Enough food and water to keep you away from people for a couple of days, and enough petrol to fill the tank. No problem…”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Near Abdali, Kuwaiti Border
Present day
After a lot of phone conversations with Jack’s friend in Qatar, the two pilots had pieced together the beginnings of a plan. Mac flew them from Kampala to Addis Ababa, then on to Abu Dhabi. From Abu Dhabi, they landed in Kuwait. Being on a private jet eased their passage, especially as they had their credentials from Xavier International. However, it was a long and exhausting trek, and they were very happy to finally stay on firm ground when they arrived in Kuwait.
Jimmy went to the Hilton and reserved two rooms in the jet company’s name, and the Quinns arrived with Mac an hour later. They went straight to their room to shower and change, and met the two airmen in the hotel bar feeling much refreshed.
They ordered, and after the drinks came, Mac took out a small leather pad. “Jack’s buddy Richard called. He’s got a guy lined up to take you over in truck. The guy… his name is Abdul Bazzi, I think… Anyway, the guy has been getting intel for the US since the first time Iraq invaded Kuwait. He’s got some family on both sides, people died, same old story. But apparently he’s proven trustworthy, and he says he can get you in and out in a day if you can complete your business quickly. If you have to stay a night, he can handle that too, although the price doubles. Cash, of course. And lots of it, I’m afraid. Looks like the equivalent of about twenty-five grand, if you have to stay the second day. I think he’d rather cross back over at night anyway, so that should be your goal.”
Gideon nodded. “And protection?”
“Bazzi’s son is going to ride shotgun, so to speak. But they’ve got some kind of a rig built in, and hopefully no one’ll ever know you’re in the truck. You’ve got to dress in the native garb when you’re wandering around your ruins. But sounds to me like, if anyone can get you in and out safely, this guy’s a good bet.”
Rei said, “I’m not going to ask what happens if we get caught.”
“Better not to,” Mac confirmed. “Jimmy and I will be staying here. We’ve got 3 days for R&R and plane maintenance. If you’re not back by then I don’t know if I can stay any longer. Depends on if there’s another client. If Xavier will keep paying for the plane to be idle, I can stay. But otherwise, we’re going to be on call.”
“Thanks Mac, you’ve already done so much!” Gideon said, offering his hand. “I’m just going to say, ’See you Tuesday’ instead of goodbye.” They shook, and then toasted to the success of the mission.
It was still dark when Gideon’s phone rang. He and Rei had been up for an hour, unable to sleep. They had decided to write letters to their families and leave them in the room, just in case. This was their only acknowledgement of the danger—or stupidity—of their mission.
“Hello?” Gideon answered. He listened then turned off the phone. “Let’s go.”
He and Rei grabbed their backpacks and left the room.
They went down the service elevator and exited from the maintenance door to the side of the building. A beat up white pickup pulled up to the curb and they both got into the front seat, Mac first. The man driving nodded a greeting, but didn’t smile or speak. He drove to an industrial area on the edge of the airport complex and stopped the truck. Another, identical, truck was parked in the lot, and a younger Arab man got out and ambled over.
He opened the passenger door. “I am Asim. That is my father.” He gestured to the older man driving the truck. “We will go in that truck there. It will not be comfortable for you, I am afraid, but it will be safer. Come.”
They got out of the first truck and walked to the second. In the bed of the truck was a hodgepodge of hay bales, oil drums, and assorted scrap metal. Asim went to the back, put down the tailgate, and tinkered with something in the pile. A small door opened, hinged invisibly at the top, and exposed a space just big enough for two people to lie down in. It was lined with blankets, with small pillows at the front. Rei looked at it in dismay.
Asim looked at her and smiled. “It is ok, miss. We have taken many people across the border this way. There is air, and it is not too very uncomfortable. Maybe you will sleep, no?” He laughed.
Rei gave a weak smile, but no laugh. She wasn’t claustrophobic exactly, but this looked a lot like an MRI machine, and those gave her the heebie jeebies.
“Can I go to the bathroom first?” she asked.
Rei and Gideon were stuffed into the hiding place, clothed in dirty white abaya, their backpacks on their stomachs. They had turned their phones off to save battery and make sure there was no unintended sound at an inopportune time. Gideon found the drive along the road relaxing, and drifted off to sleep. Rei just clutched her backpack and prayed. This was
obviously the most ridiculous thing they had ever done, and she was sure they were going to be killed, beheaded, burned alive, or thrown into a stinking jail for the rest of their lives.
After an hour, the truck thumped off the pavement and started driving across uneven ground. Gideon woke with a curse and tried to get his hand up to rub his head. He couldn’t reach and gave up.
“That was rude…” he whispered to Rei.
“Yeah. I doubt it’s going to get much better. This is ridiculous! What are we doing? We’re just regular people! We work for an art collector. You don’t look anything like Indiana Jones!” She was starting to hyperventilate.
Gideon could only take her hand. “Honey, listen. We’ll be ok. I’m sure these guys have done this hundreds of times. And they’re not getting paid the other half of their money unless we all get back alive, right? So that’s some incentive, at least.”
“Wonderful,” Rei muttered.
Gideon knew that Kuwait was very small, and he also knew that the truck hadn’t slowed down in the three or so hours they’d been off the paved road, so he had to assume they were in Iraq. He didn’t share this information with Rei, who seemed to be dozing off and on. Having been in the Army, although never stationed in a war zone, he knew only too clearly the real dangers they faced. Especially Rei. Abdul had given him a 9mm Glock with a full clip while he was putting on his abaya, and he had stowed it within easy reach. Or so he thought at the time. He couldn’t reach much now.
Both of the Quinns lost track of time as the truck bounced and skidded on what was obviously sand. Occasionally they would drive across a smooth stretch of ground, whether tarmac or packed earth Gideon couldn’t. He was hot and sweating and extremely thirsty, and his muscles had begun to cramp from being in the same position for so many hours. Rei seemed to go in and out of a restless sleep, moaning occasionally and trying to turn, unable to do so. There was adequate air flow, and enough light that he could dimly see their forms if he tipped his head up a bit. He should have brought an iPod, he thought. I could have caught up with my audio books.
Finally the truck seemed to slow. This made the ruts seem larger, and Rei came fully awake after a particularly large bump sent them both six inches in the air, only to crash back down on the metal truck bed. The truck came to a stop, and Rei started to say something to Gideon, when he squeezed her hand hard.
“Listen!” he hissed.
They could hear voices speaking in Arabic. They had no idea what was going on, but there were more than two men talking, which meant they had company. Rei held Gideon’s hand tightly, and he awkwardly brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. They could just make out each other’s faces in the dark, and he smiled at her. She had tears in her eyes, but mouthed, “I love you.”
The group of men conversed for over an hour. At first the conversation seemed heated, although Rei thought Arabic always sounded heated so she couldn’t be sure. But after fifteen minutes they were laughing, apparently telling stories or jokes. The sound made the couple relax somewhat, but that made Rei realize that she really needed to go to the bathroom. She tried to think of other things.
“Ma’a as-salaama,” said one voice.
“Allah yasalmak,” replied a voice that sounded like Asim’s.
They heard the truck doors slam shut, the engine fired up, and the truck started bouncing over the terrain once again. Both Gideon and Rei breathed out a sigh of relief.
“I have to pee!” Rei whispered.
Another hour went by, and the truck stopped once again. This time they only heard two voices, those of their driver and his son. The car doors slammed, and the hidden door at their feet opened. The sunlight was blinding after their hours in darkness. The two men grabbed their ankles and hauled them out of the truck. It took several minutes for both their eyes and their muscles to adjust. Asim led them one at a time around a boulder so they could relieve themselves, standing watch with his AK-47.
“Oh, thank God!” Rei said, as she came around the rock, adjusting her abaya and hijab. “I feel so much better.”
She and Asim joined Gideon and Abdul. “So is this Ctesiphon?” she asked.
“We call it Tasbun,” Abdul replied. “We will need to walk a short distance. If we drive there, it will possibly draw attention. If we walk, we will look like pilgrims. Sometimes those of Persian descent still come here to the place of their ancestors. These days there is not much of that, of course, as traveling is very dangerous. But there is a village there,” he pointed to the northwest. “Not far. There are still descendants of those people there. We will walk around and come at the site from that direction. It should be enough. If we meet anyone, cover your faces and hands.” He turned to Rei, “You must keep your head down. Even if you do not see anyone about, keep your head down and walk a few paces behind us as a local woman would do.” Rei nodded and adjusted her hijab to cover more of her face.
“Let us go,” Abdul said, and began walking westward. Gideon and Asim walked beside him, with Rei a few paces behind. Gideon wasn’t happy with this arrangement—he wanted to keep his eyes on his wife. Asim reassured him.
“I will see if anyone comes. She will be safe. That is my duty.”
They walked west for an half hour, and then turned north. The Tigris River was visible at times as a winking, sparkling line. As they got closer, they could see the trees and green that flourished along the banks, and farther north the smoke rising from the village fires. Small boats were fishing in the river.
After another half an hour they turned back to the southeast, and came across a hard packed trail through the hills and scrub. They went up a small rise, and from the top, they could see the ruins.
“Oh!” gasped Rei. “That’s beautiful! Look at that huge arch!”
Their guides just nodded and kept walking. They had not seen anyone yet, and Gideon was praying that they would be able to get in and out of the site without encountering another person. His senses were on high alert, and he had the now familiar flood of adrenalin keeping his heart rate up. Abdul sensed it, and lay a reassuring hand on his arm.
“Calm now. I can see no one, and if we meet someone here, it is unlikely to be rebels. There are some places that are still sacred, even in Iraq.”
They approached the enormous arch from the front. Abdul told them that the right wing of the palace had collapsed in an earthquake in 1880, but that the remaining ruins had been stable since then, and largely exempted from the strife that had ravaged the country. There were rumored to be spirits about the place, and no one was keen to stir them up, no matter what else was going on.
Rei craned her neck as they passed under the entry of the arch. They wandered in the room that had once been the kings’ court, enormous with its barrel vault ceiling. The left side of the palace still had rooms, although walls were crumbling and the roof was gone. Rei could see that there were carvings in the stone throughout the site, but that they were concentrated mostly in the kings’ court.
“Asim, can you stand guard near the front of the arch? I think what we’re looking for is in here somewhere. Gosh, it’s just so huge…” She looked around at the enormous space. “What was this place called? Not the town, but this palace?”
“Taq-i Kisra. The Palace of the Great Kings.”
Gideon and Rei started at the left side of the arch and began working their way down the wall. The Persian kings had apparently loved wall carvings, and it was a long, slow process. The sun was beginning to set, and the shadows were growing long inside the stone room.
Gideon said, “I really do not want to spend the night here, or anywhere near here. All the hairs on the back of my neck have been standing up for six hours. Let’s keep going until we can’t see a thing…” Rei agreed. She did not like being a woman—an American woman, at that—in a Muslim country illegally.
They got to the corner and could barely see in the darkness.
“Do you have your flashlight?” Gideon asked.
“Yes, but I t
hink it’s almost dead.” She unzipped a small pocket in her backpack and handed it to him. “Here.”
The beam was indeed much dimmer than it had been on previous days, and it was doubtful that it would hold out much longer. It had just begun to flicker intermittently when Rei saw it.
“There! Look, Gid, there!” She pointed to a spot on the wall that the beam had just passed over. Gideon brought the light back to where she was pointing. An X was chiseled onto the helmet of a fallen soldier whose face appeared to be resting on a narrow brick ledge.
“Are the stones loose?” Gideon began to press on them. The light flickered and went out.
“Crap! Ok, we know about where the X is,” Rei said. “Jiggle the stones on the ledge. If one of them isn’t loose, we’ll just have to dig. But don’t take a step! If we lose it now, we’ll have to come back tomorrow. We know from the other ones that he always puts them right under the mark… It’s got to be here!”
They both planted their feet solidly so they weren’t tempted to move, and began trying to rock the stones on the ledge.
“They’re solid,” Rei said. “Let’s dig.”
Gideon handed her the trowel but kept working on the stones. “You dig. I’ll keep trying these. I feel like that X being right above this ledge must mean something…”
Rei carefully knelt straight down, cognizant of her position next to the wall. She put her fingers on the now invisible ledge, and traced a vertical line down to the sand. She carefully started digging with her right hand, her left resting on the wall for perspective. It was incredible how fast and how completely the darkness had fallen.
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