She had dug about six inches deep in the soft sand when she heard the stones above her head shift. Gideon grunted and then she heard the sound of a rock scraping against another rock.
“Head’s up!” Gideon said.
A rock landed on her knee.
“Sorry, hon! I thought the rocks would be elongated, but they’re really pretty short. And there’s a big space behind here… Hang on…” She stood up and heard his robes scraping against the stones.
“Got it! Feels just the same as the others—metal tube, leather strap. Thank God our Father Eduardo was a creature of habit! Here.” He handed it to his wife and slapped his hands together, trying to remove the dirt.
“I’d better try to put that stone back,” he said, as he reached down to find it in the dark.
Walking back to the truck in the near total darkness seemed incredibly dangerous, not to mention impossible, to Rei. They had filled in her small hole and put the loose stone back in the ledge as well as they could, and groped their way to the opening of the arch, the now-dark sky giving only the barest outline of the roof line as they walked along the left wall. They could see a very faint difference where the arch was, and as they approached they saw the form of a man rise from the ground.
“Success?” Abdul asked.
“Yes. Thank you! Will we be able to get back to Kuwait tonight?” Rei asked anxiously.
“We shall try. We have diesel in the back of the truck to refill the tank, and we will have a small meal before we set out. I shall have to drive without lights, and that will be slow, but I believe we can still cross the border before it is light. Come.”
He led the way to Asim, and the four started back the way they’d come. Since it was dark, Abdul didn’t insist on Rei following behind. Gideon had already decided he wasn’t leaving her to walk back there alone, so he was glad that the discussion didn’t arise. Asim chambered a round in his rifle.
“Do you see someone?” Gideon asked in alarm, drawing his own pistol.
“No. There are jackals.”
“Great. Creatures,” Rei grumbled. She held Gideon’s arm in a death grip as they walked.
They didn’t bother with the roundabout route they had taken to get to the Taq-i Kisra. Abdul led them unerringly straight back to the truck. The moon was a sliver, and the stars were bright. Their eyes had adjusted and Rei no longer tripped over every stone, but she was completely turned around and knew that she and Gideon would never have found their way back without the Bazzis. I guess we’d just fall in the river, eventually, she thought.
The truck was just as they’d left it, and the Quinns visited the makeshift privy again before being stuffed back in their hiding place. Abdul reminded them that they would be traveling at a slower pace than on the way north, as he would be running in the dark, without headlights.
Once they were as comfortable as they were going to get, Asim closed the hatch, the truck doors slammed shut, and the engine fired up. The first few minutes were on very soft sand, but the ride smoothed out as they reached a dirt road. Gideon and Rei both drifted in and out of sleep, awakened periodically when a rut threw them in the air and they landed hard on the metal truck bed.
Time seemed to move at a fluid pace. On one hand, it seemed shorter than the ride north to Ctesiphon. It was cooler, and the slower pace made a more pleasant noise inside the smugglers’ hole. On the other hand, the coming illegal border crossing, their last known hurdle, made them much more anxious than on the outbound journey. They had the letter now. They didn’t dare think about it being taken away by some authority claiming it was an antiquity of Iraq. Nor that same authority arresting them for all kinds of illegal activity.
They had been on a fairly smooth road for some time, and both had drifted to sleep. Suddenly Abdul slammed on the brakes, sending their heads into the front wall of their chamber, and the truck slid sideways before bouncing to a halt. Other vehicle doors slammed, and they heard yelling in Arabic. The doors of their truck opened, but didn’t close, and they could hear Abdul and Asim speaking in a conciliatory way. More yelling. More attempted appeasement.
Rei grabbed Gideon’s hand. He squeezed it, and put his other hand on the butt of the Glock in the top of his waistband. He raised his head as much as he could to try to determine a line of sight, and realized he’d have to move his feet or he’d shoot them off. He experimented with pushing his toes to the side like a dancer, and thought he could probably get a couple of rounds off before he and Rei were either killed where they lay, or pulled out onto the sand.
The angry voices got closer, and they could hear people rummaging through the junk all around them on both sides of the truck. The doors squealed as they were pulled all the way open, and they could hear banging from the cab. Soon they heard knocking underneath the carriage. They barely dared breathe, and Rei had her eyes closed, mouthing silent prayers.
Finally, after twenty minutes, the search ended. One of the strangers barked something, and Abdul answered in a subservient voice. They heard the truck doors slam again. After an endless quiet moment, the engine turned over, and the truck started to drive slowly, gradually picking up speed.
“Oh, thank God! Thank God!” Rei said, tears running down her cheeks. Gideon couldn’t agree more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Cape of Good Hope
April 1688
Joao and isabel enjoyed the long winter stop in the Cape of Good Hope. Determining to wait for good weather to resume the journey up the west coast of Africa, the captain of the Santa Antonio de Tanna had given his crew some of their wages, and made berth until calmer weather could be relied upon. The Xaviers paid for the rental of a guest house on the elaborate estate of a merchant with the Dutch East India Company, and spent many weeks exploring the area and making new friends.
When Joao had been in the port city before, he had only rarely left the ship, as Catholics were not much welcomed, so he was seeing much of the town for the first time along with Isabel. He knew, however, that he would leave the final letter here, and they spent some time discussing what location would be the most prudent.
The Castle of Good Hope was the bustling center of trade and society in the Cape, and they considered it carefully. The church had some potential, and the fort in general was quite solidly built and looked built to last for many centuries. However, there were always many people about, conducting business, shopping at the markets, attending services in the Protestant chapel, and performing the tasks of the governmental. They could determine no feasible way to carve Joao’s mark, much less effectively hide a letter without being seen.
They considered, too, Table Mountain. It was enormous, and would obviously be there until the Lord returned. However there were no distinguishing marks, or areas of prior habitation, that would allow their progeny to find the clue. It was not their intention that this letter, the first in the hunt, never be found, but they had run out of ideas for a suitable location.
One day Joao began talking to a man sitting at a neighboring table while he had tea in an inn. The old man had lived in the Cape of Good Hope all of his life, and was a natural storyteller. He reminisced about Vasco da Gama as if he’d been onboard his ship on that first voyage around the Cape.
“And then there was that other fellow… What was his name, another Portugee. Ah, de Saldanha, I believe. He named the mountain there. Not a lot of imagination, I must say. But a table is what it is, I’ll be bound, so Table Mountain is good enough. And he’s the one what climbed up Lion’s Head over yonder and carved that big cross. Quite a Christian that man was, I guess. Still see it after all this time. I’d wager it would be a signal for Jesus Christ Himself to come to the Cape when the time comes for Him to visit us again.”
Joao turned and looked out the window at Lions Head. “Where is this cross? I’ve never noticed it before.”
“Tis on the far side. Looks out to sea, not over the town. Course the town t’weren’t here then. Was quite a job, all that chiseling and carving
…” He shook his head at man’s folly. Joao continued looking thoughtfully at Lion’s Head.
A week later Joao rode a roan gelding around the city, and out towards the sea so that he could look back up at Lions Head. To be sure, there was an enormous cross carved in the rock. He wasn’t sure how to get up there, but he knew that he had found the place for his final letter.
A big storm raged over the next several days, and Joao and Isabel used the time to plan their hike as best they could. Isabel, who had gotten very accustomed to wearing breeches on their journey to the zimbabwe, suggested that she could do so again, to aid their hike. While Joao enjoyed the site of her in his pants, he didn’t think the Cape of Good Hope was the place to try the unusual fashion again.
“We shall have to try it in regular clothing, so we do not attract attention. If it proves impossible for you, I will have to attempt it another time alone.”
“Darling,” Isabel protested. “Who will see us on that far side? I can change into the breeches once we have begun. It would be ever so much more practical.”
“And you are a practical, resourceful lass, I know.” Joao smiled at her. “Well, let us come to a compromise. You may put them in the saddle bag, and if it appears that we will be alone, you may change into them. Is that satisfactory?”
Isabel smiled and kissed him. “Yes! It is most satisfactory. Thank you.” Joao returned her smile, and went back to writing his letter.
The weather stayed very wet, so life returned to its usual pattern of tea, fires in the fireplace, and dinner at the pub with other transients who were waiting out the weather. One evening, as they sat enjoying a sherry with a group of fellow merchants, several men walked in. One was obviously a seaman, and the others likely merchants who had traveled one way or the other along the trade route. Mr. Brinkerhoff, a senior official at the Castle of Good Hope, waved over the seaman.
“Ah, Captain Roemer! How goes it, sir?” He heartily shook the man’s hand.
“The weather is doing us no favors, sir, I’ll be bound. We were delayed on our way down the coast, and have been beating against this wind and rain for almost two weeks now. My crew is tired, and many have taken ill. I have never been so happy to see that great Table Mountain as I was yesterday. We all were, even our normally quiet passengers. Once we had made berth, it was ale for all!” He laughed and sat down at the table.
“Aye, it’s hard on those of us who don’t make their living at sea, that’s the God’s truth,” Brinkerhoff said.
“These fellows are a strange lot. Some kind of religious order, I believe. They don’t talk, except among themselves. They’re of the Church of Rome, so I don’t know that they’ll be able to disembark here. But they can do what they like on my ship as long as their coin is paid. At least they’re not trying to tell me my business or drinking their weight in wine. Quiet is a blessing, after some of the Portuguese I’ve ferried.”
Joao listened to all of this with growing dismay, as did Isabel, sitting to his left. They had assumed they were safe from the men, apparently some brand of monk, as they hadn’t arrived in the Cape sooner. Now it appeared they would have to elude them once again. And with the final letter, too… It was almost too much.
Joao stood up quickly and pulled Isabel to her feet. “Gentlemen, ladies, we must be leaving. I’m afraid we have overstayed and my wife is feeling ill. Please excuse us.”
The men and women all made sympathetic noises, and Joao escorted Isabel out before any introductions could be made. He did not need for Captain Roemer to bring back their names to his ship.
The following day, he and Isabel rode to the base of Lion’s Head. They had discussed it late into the night, and prudence dictated that they wait for dryer weather. But as of that morning, the brothers did not know they were in the Cape of Good Hope, which made it the only opportunity that was absolutely safe. The wet ground and cold wind would have to be tolerated as concessions to the safety of their final mission.
They tied their horses in a protected thicket at the base of Lion’s Head, on the sea side. The weather was drizzly and cold, and Isabel had mixed feelings about putting on Joao’s breeches. Her skirts were much warmer, but even standing in the thicket gathering their supplies had left them wet to the knee, and heavy. She quickly removed them and pulled on the breeches, catching Joao’s grin.
“Quite the Jesuit you are…” she said, teasingly.
“If I’d ever seen a woman as comely as you in breeches, I would not have taken the vows, my dear.” He kissed her soundly, then handed her the small shovel.
There was no trail or path up the mountain. Joao led the way, angling up and around to try to minimize the difficulty as much as he could. The soggy ground was slick where it was bare, and wet leaves made everything treacherous. They clung to trees and saplings as the climb got increasingly steep, until they were forced to stop a dozen yards from the rock topped summit.
“I don’t think I can climb up there, Joao,” Isabel said, gasping as she leaned into a scrubby pine tree. “It is almost straight up!”
Joao looked up and agreed. “Senhor de Saldanha did it, although I daresay not in the rain. I am going to continue. I believe I can get there… Will you be all right here? I do not expect that it will take overly long, but I do not want you to be afraid, or to slip again.”
She looked around her. “If I sit on that rock there,” she pointed, ”I shall be safe. And there will be a little shelter from the wind. Pray you be careful, Joao. I do not wish to see you sliding down this mountain!”
She handed him the small shovel she had tucked under her arm, and he helped her to the rock. The view out over the sea was lovely in the dark silvery way it is with long rain. She leaned back and sighed.
“Tis good to sit, I must say. And I am thankful for these breeches. Now hurry on!”
Joao kissed her again and got his bearings. He didn’t think he could make the climb straight up, but one more turn around the mountain should lead him to the top. He clung onto trees and branches, and used them to haul himself up each step of the way. He put his boot in a mass of wet leaves when he was almost at the flat ledge below the rocky top, and only just caught himself on a thin limb as his feet slid out from under him. He used all his arm strength to pull himself back up, and finally reached the even ground. For a moment he stood still, hands on his thighs and breathing hard, in front of the giant cross.
He called out, “Isabel? Isabel, can you hear me?” He felt like his voice was dropping straight down with the rain, but then he heard her reply.
“Yes! Are you all right?”
“I am at the top! I shall be back soon!” He got to work.
The trip down the mountain was almost as exciting as the hike up had been. The rain was coming harder now, and the fallen leaves continued to create a hazard as they tried to stay upright. Never had two horses looked more pathetic, or more welcome, as their two, huddled and hunched against the cold rain. Isabel started to mount, but Joao grabbed her waist.
“Have you forgotten something, my love?” he asked.
She looked confused for a moment, and then looked down at her muddy boots and soaked breeches. She laughed.
“It wouldn’t do to ride into town like this, I suppose!” She took her skirts out of the leather satchel and tried to get under a tree canopy to change. Her skirt quickly looked as wet and muddy as the pants had. Joao helped her mount, sidesaddle, then mounted his own gelding.
“And we are done!” he said happily. “Now we have only to get to Lisbon, and start our life.”
“Do you not think they will continue to hound us for the letter, no matter where we are?” Isabel asked.
“Oh yes, I do. At first. They will probably do as they did to me in Lisbon those years ago, and search our home. But there are many safe places to keep valuables in a city like Lisbon, and I think we will not keep that letter at our home. It will be safe, and we will begin our new business, our family… We will begin to live.”
CHAPTER T
WENTY-TWO
Kuwait
Present day
Abdul drove the truck over the Kuwaiti border at 5:47 in the morning, as the rays of the sun began to appear on the horizon. The vehicle bounced over the loose sand, miles from any road, and Abdul turned on the headlights and headed southwest. After twenty kilometers he came to a stop in a dry creek bed, protected on three sides by rock, and Asim pulled Rei and Gideon out of the truck. The almost collapsed, both with relief and with muscle cramps, and Rei started to laugh and cry.
“What happened back there?” Gideon asked Abdul.
“Rebels. They wanted us to pay them a bribe to keep going across their territory, but they thought that we were smuggling heroin also. So they searched the truck. It has happened before, and we have never had anyone found. But they were most thorough, and we had a fright while they were under the back and looking through the things around you. Praise Allah, they did not find you!”
Rei exclaimed, “I have never been so terrified in my whole life!” She wiped the tears from her face.
“I assume we’re in Kuwait now?” Gideon asked, looking around at the sand and rock that looked just like the sand and rock in Iraq.
“Yes, and now you may sit in the truck with us. You do not need to hide in the back any longer, although I think that we will not be stopped anyway.”
They all piled onto the bench seat, which at any other time would have been ridiculously uncomfortable, but, after the hours unable to move, seemed deliciously free. Rei sat half on Gideon’s lap, and they sat next to the door, aware that touching an unrelated woman would make the Muslim men uncomfortable. Rei watched as the sun rose in yellow and pinks over the desert. Once they got on the paved road to the city, she rested her head on the glass and dozed.
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