by Philip Dole
“Everything’s still there,” reported Little Bo on returning with Ishmael. “I brought the phone, the film and your packs.”
“Let me see.” Lei took it from Little Bo and inspected it. “It does not look like they exposed the film.”
“That’s good news. But now we have a decision to make.” Tyler didn’t need to say more.
Lei looked at him. He had an ugly laceration from his jump out of the Fiat and big bumps from Abdul’s kicks. His head looked like a tortured potato.
She ran both hands over her own face. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and Tyler wondered if she had the stomach to continue the manhunt.
“Either get the hell out of here and head home safe and sound. Or keep chasing after that sadistic Chinaman.”
“I’ll go with you either way, Sidi Tyler.”
“That’s brave of you, my friend, and I appreciate it more than you could ever know. But you have no stake in this, nothing worth risking your life.” Little Bo’s only sensible vote had to be for immediate escape, and so Tyler cast it for him. “Take your brother’s junk of a car and get your beautiful Mercedes back. With your grandfather’s excellent pistol.” Tyler handed it to him.
Little Bo didn’t take the gun, but he laid his hand on Tyler’s arm. “I am risking my life right now.” He swept his other arm in a big arc. “What if our pursuers drove up right now? Would not my life be at risk? And was not my life at risk when we were being beaten? Did I help them?
“You ask me to decide if I am willing to risk my life, Sidi Tyler, but I made that decision back at the airport. That is when I learned your life was at risk, and I knew anyone with you would be at risk, too. I recognized those men, and I stayed with you even though I knew I was in danger.
“Those men are a disgrace to Islam. They are enemies of Islam. I have already made my decision. I am staying with you.” He grabbed Tyler by the shoulders and stretched up to kiss him on both cheeks.
Then Tyler turned to Lei who was battered and bruised.
“What about you?” He posed the question gently. “Do you think it’s still worth it? We’ve got the photos. Isn’t that enough? Haven’t you had enough?” His voice conveyed his concern. “We can hop in the Fiat and leave this nightmare behind us.”
“Tyler, you should know better. What would I tell Granduncle? That I found Wu, got photos of him but then ran away? Be sensible. What good are my pictures if we still cannot tell Hacker where he is? How can I tell Niko I knew where Wu had gone, but I didn’t get the proof needed to free him because it was too dangerous?
“What is happening to him behind bars? I cannot stop the terrible thoughts in my head. My poor brother. I cannot give up until he is free, or I am dead.
“Tyler, I have never told you, but a big part of why Niko risked himself for the family’s good was to erase the stain Hung Ho sees when he looks at us. Our fidelity to Hing Ling might finally erase Grandmother Cherry’s love-struck mistake.
“I made my decision long ago.” Then she paused a long moment and smiled at him with her swollen mouth. “So it is up to you, Tyler. If you quit, it’s over. I can’t go on alone.”
The image of Lei in his office a few short days ago flashed in his mind, and he could hear himself promising to do everything possible to help Niko. Now he had to keep his word or break it. Put up or shut up.
His father’s obscene tirade on his call from Amsterdam also flashed through his mind. Was he the worthless meathead Arnold had called him? Was he the coward Arnold had told Beth years ago? And was he going to walk away from the money he needed to set up the practice he wanted? He looked at Lei and then at Little Bo. They were waiting for his answer.
“OK. Let’s go find Wu. Damn it. We did it once. We can do it again. But let’s not get captured this time. And we better get out of here before our pursuers show up. Little Bo, why don’t you tie Ishmael up, and we’ll take him with us. Don’t let him talk to the women.”
They ate all the bread and cheese they could and packed ten liters of water, a small loaf of bread, about a half kilo of almonds, a handful of dates and a few dried figs. They also found three tins of sardines in tomato sauce and took them. They had their sleeping bags, the photo equipment and most importantly the satellite phone.
Tyler and Lei could share one sleeping bag, and Little Bo could have the other. They found a rug for Ishmael to sleep in. Lei traded her bloodstained clothes for some belonging to the young farm girl. Little Bo considered taking the keys to the Fiat but decided to leave them on the theory Ahmed wouldn’t hotwire the ignition if he left the keys. Little Bo owed it to his brother to try to get the Fiat back to him in one piece.
As Little Bo tied up Ishmael, he whined, “I do not want to go. I am just a farm boy. I have nothing to do with Abdul or the Chinaman.”
“Too bad, Ishmael. You should have thought of that before you played teenage terrorist. Did you think it was fun to be a big man with an automatic rifle? I bet you did, you pitiful punk.
“It’s simple, Ishmael. You walk with us, or you can stay here with a bullet in your knee. Your choice.”
Tyler’s big problem was he didn’t know the location of the secret rendezvous. But he figured donkeys munching on grass would drop a lot of manure. And if they followed the donkeys’ spoor, it would lead them to wherever Wu and Abdul went.
Lei remembered they hadn’t called Sunny, missing the nine a.m. call because they were hostages being beaten to a pulp. Sunny would undoubtedly be worried. It was only two-thirty p.m., a half-hour early for the next scheduled call, but she placed the call anyway. She insisted Sunny would be waiting because they had missed the morning call, and she was correct. She got through to Sunny without any glitch.
“Granduncle, we are fine, and we found Wu.”
“Wonderful. I was very concerned.”
“And we got a roll of photos.”
“Send them to me somehow, and I’ll get them to Mr. Hacker. Why didn’t you call this morning on time?”
“We were tied up. And there is a problem. Wu got away, and we are chasing him again.”
“What! How did he get away? You had him, and then you lost him. That is not good. Where is he now?”
“He is on his way to the coast.”
“Give me your exact location, and I shall try to get the Moroccan authorities to help you.”
Lei didn’t want to tell Sunny they had been captured and nearly killed. “Wait until we find him again. This location will not help Hacker. But tell him Wu is in the middle of a huge drug deal for two thousand kilos of hashish. And do not worry. We shall find Wu. We are on the trail of his donkey train right now. Granduncle, there is another man with Wu. He is some kind of great warrior. And he is in on the deal. He is probably going to get the weapons, whatever they are. His name is Abdul, and we think he is from Somalia. Please try to find out who he is.”
“Are you safe?”
The truth didn’t serve her, and so she lied. “Yes, we are only following him until they get to the coast. Then you can tell the authorities. Were you aware Wu knows there is a traitor in his camp?“
“No, I was not. More reason for you to be careful, young lady. Do not take any extra risks. I want you to be safe.”
“We shall do our best.” She hung up.
“What did he say, Lei?” Tyler asked.
“To be careful and give him our location when we get to the coast. Then he will get the Moroccan authorities to bust up the deal.”
Tyler decided to call Hacker. It was middle of the night in Honolulu, and he knew he wouldn’t reach a live person. But he preferred leaving a message. After all, their situation was confusing. He told Hacker he and his companions had found Wu in Morocco and had taken photographs of him. But they’d lost contact. He promised to call again as soon as he had Wu’s exact location.
After he hung up, Tyler stared at the phone, wond
ering how Hacker would react to this incredible information being reported by a neophyte attorney on a wild goose chase somewhere in Morocco. To no one in particular he said, “Hell, how can I expect him to believe me? Even I don’t believe it, and I’m in the middle of it.”
Chapter Nineteen
Toward the coast in the vicinity of
Torres de Alcala, Morocco
Wednesday, December 8, 2005
8:10 p.m.
Tyler drove the party of four forward. Their pace slackened after nightfall. But they had to press on to close the gap with Wu and Abdul. Lei had the flashlight, and she was doing a good job blazing the trail. They traversed ground with treacherous footing, strewn with loose rocks. He wasn’t pleased about hiking over such dangerous terrain with only the light of a waxing moon and a single flashlight. But he wanted to catch up to Wu.
Suddenly the flashlight’s beam danced wildly as it clattered against the rocks. At the same instant Lei screamed. She crumpled to the ground. Her left leg was bent at the knee, and she was rocking back and forth as she clutched it. “Damn it, I think I have broken my ankle.” Tyler knelt by her side, wrapped an arm around her, pulled her to his body and stroked her hair. Little Bo retrieved the flashlight and shone the light on them.
“You’ll be okay,” Little Bo assured her as Tyler turned his attention to her injury.
“The rock moved, and I just slipped.”
“Let me take a look.” Tyler gently laid her left leg across his knees and untied her boot. He moved her ankle in several directions. He knew from his training that a broken ankle was excruciatingly painful with the slightest movement. She didn’t cry out, indicating to him her ankle wasn’t broken. “You’ve sprained your ankle. Don’t worry. It’s not broken. And I hope you can walk on it, but let’s not even try until tomorrow.” He turned to Little Bo and Ishmael. “Let’s bed down here, and then we can see how she is in the morning.”
Little Bo sat Ishmael down on a boulder and scouted the area while Tyler comforted Lei. Little Bo found a fairly level area about twenty meters away suitable for their overnight camp. Tyler and Little Bo went about scraping the loose rocks off their sleeping areas, using their feet because they were too tired to bend over and use their hands. Clouds had rolled in and blocked the stars and moon. Rain seemed likely any moment.
“I wish we had some leaves. This ground is as hard as a rock,” piped up Little Bo.
Ishmael replied, “That’s because it is rock, city boy.”
Little Bo raised his hand to slap him but was too tired. Then he spit out something harsh in Arabic.
“Let’s eat,” Tyler suggested. Embarking on their quest for Wu hadn’t lessened his appetite. Having to feed Ishmael made him regret his decision to not take the time to find more food at the farm. On a positive note, however, they had also been frugal with their water, having consumed less than three of their ten liters. That meant they had drunk less than a liter each.
Little Bo parceled out handfuls of almonds, and they ate them slowly one by one. Their scarcity made them the most flavorful nuts Tyler could remember. Everyone got several dates and a couple of figs for a sugar boost. The motley party passed around a liter of water in an exhausted silence, each entertaining their individual thoughts.
Tyler felt Lei’s hand lightly stroking his battered head. It must have felt like a lumpy cushion. His gash was covered with rough and jagged crusts of dried blood. It hurt every time her fingers even brushed it. He looked up at her, and she smiled. She looked every bit as bad as he.
“I imagine we’re not going to have a hard time sleeping, but I think we’ll sleep deeper if our blood sugar is higher. So Little Bo, you are appointed quartermaster and please pass out two more dates to each of us,” Tyler announced. As they nibbled on the sweet fruit, their depressed spirits rose with their blood sugar.
Lei elevated her ankle on a rock. Glancing at his watch, Tyler reminded her it was time to call Sunny again, and he fished the satellite phone out of her backpack. She called him, and as she talked with him in Chinese, he surrendered himself to the fire’s crackling, hypnotizing flames. His eyelids drooped, weighed down with fatigue. He slipped away to semi-consciousness. When she finished her call, she held the phone with both hands while her elbows rested on her knees. Was she praying or did it just look like that?
The puny fire burned out, and the night closed on them again, this time darker and colder. Little Bo spread out a sleeping bag for him and the rug for Ishmael. Lei suggested they share the other bag. After a brief talk. Little Bo and Ishmael agreed. Tyler put extra socks on Lei. Her ankle had been exposed to the night chill for an hour since she had been injured. That was enough cold to minimize her swelling. The socks would keep her injured ankle warm enough to promote circulation overnight. If she wasn’t able to walk in the morning, they would be in trouble.
The odd couples lay on opposite sides of their burnt-out fire, less than five meters apart. After saying goodnight, they retired. Being so tired, they had left most of their clothes on. The folded rug they had gotten from Little Bo in exchange for the second sleeping bag softened the ground. They stuffed their other clothes into Tyler’s jacket as their pillow. It lent their repose the pleasing odor of old leather.
The sleeping bag was a mummy bag, streamlined to save on weight and space in a backpack. With two adults in a bag designed for one, there just wasn’t any room to maneuver. Tyler settled in, lying on his back. Lei nestled in against him, lying on her right side to protect her sprained left ankle and her swollen left cheek. When she laid her head next to his, her feet only reached to his calves.
“Tyler, do not fall asleep. Please, not just yet.”
“I’ll try, but no promises.”
“I know you do not want to talk about it, but I have to tell you it was awful to see Abdul kicking you.”
“I didn’t like watching Wu slapping you either. I would like a chance to do it to him.” She was right he didn’t want to talk about it.
“Sunny warned me coming here would be dangerous. I knew that, and I still came. And this morning I decided to keep going. You have no responsibility for what has happened or for what might happen.”
“But Tyler, you helped me when I needed it. Let me please you.” She stretched up and kissed his neck. Her closeness filled his head with a pungent smell, different from the scent of her when she had invited him into her room. They hadn’t bathed since they had left Amsterdam, and both could use one. But her smell still had a sweetness. Inhaling deep draughts through flared nostrils, he got lightheaded. He wrapped her with his other arm and hugged her close to him despite the pain he felt in his battered ribs.
She gently kissed him on the side of his face. Her swollen lips couldn’t smack, and so she could only press them lightly down on his neck. Constricted by the sleeping bag, she struggled to climb on top of him as she kissed him faster and slightly harder.
“Don’t be scared. I know what you want. Just relax,” she breathed softly on his cheek. She rocked her hand slowly as she nibbled on his earlobe. Occasionally she would breathe softly into his ear, filling it with a most pleasant sensation of warmth. She whispered in his ear all the sexual things she wanted to do with him. She described them with graphic language and in erotic detail.
Her imagination revealed a relaxed sexuality. He had to constrain his, but she seemed to embrace hers. Her attitudes were uninhibited, and her desires sounded insatiable. She seemed to revel in sharing the most sensual details of these imagined adventures. He had his own sexual fantasy realm, a place he visited often, and her provocative words excited him. She also excited herself with her fantasies because she enjoyed the mental aspects of sex as much as the physical. With her sexy words filling his ear, he floated in and out of consciousness.
When he awoke in the morning, her lips were still near his ear. He had been too tired to dream, but he remembered with pleasure the
details of her tour de force of sexual fantasy. He squeezed her with his left arm, and in her sleep she wiggled closer to him.
He realized it was long after sunrise and lifted his head to see if Little Bo was awake. His body was one great pain. The throbbing ache inside his head had subsided somewhat overnight, but the gash on the top of his head was pulling the surrounding skin as tight as a drum. Every time he moved, the surrounding skin pulled on it painfully. His ribs hurt when his torso bent, turned, or twisted. Laughing, coughing, and sneezing were the worst. He steeled himself against the constant, throbbing pains. He had no choice but to tough it out.
He raised his head a second time and saw Little Bo in the distance apparently gathering firewood. He questioned building a fire because they had to break camp soon. He wiggled out of their bag, regretting he had to disturb the angelic Lei. He put on his boots and stood up. Little Bo came back, dumping an arm full of sticks. Tyler bent down to kiss Lei.
“Bad news, Sidi Tyler.”
“What’s that?”
“Ishmael is gone.” Little Bo paused before continuing. “It is my fault. I let him free so he could do personal things, and he didn’t come back.”
Tyler reacted with calm because assigning blame was pointless. “It’s not your fault. I brought him along in the hope we could get information out of him. Maybe use him as a bargaining chip. But he isn’t important, and he was slowing us up. So it’s just as well he’s gone. You didn’t know he was going to run. When did it happen?”
“About fifteen minutes ago. I ran after him looking, but I never saw him. He could have started out in any direction to lose me.”
“If he went back to the farm, it’ll take him until noon at least. And even if our pursuers are there, they can’t catch up with us. We’ve got a full day’s head start on them. Don’t worry about it.” But he didn’t tell Little Bo that if Ishmael had gone ahead to the coast, they would be walking right into a trap.
Tyler wanted to get moving immediately. But he realized although Lei was now awake, she wasn’t out of their sleeping bag yet. So Little Bo started a small fire, and he focused on the crucial question: How well could she walk?
