The General and the Elephant Clock of Al-Jazari (21 page)

“Yes, sir,” Daniel said. “I’m not built for sitting around.”

Wylie fell in behind them when they left the room. “Wylie, how is everything?”

“No trouble so far,” he said. “Mr. Mortimer brought us some radios so we can communicate a little better if we’re in different parts of the hotel. I’ll come with you guys to PT. I thought you may want some exercise, even if it is that pansy-ass Ranger PT that the USMC grandmas do when they’re warming up.”

Daniel grinned back at him. “Oh, you think so, my man? I believe I can thrash your red-headed butt deeply into the ground. See, you’re talking and you don’t even know you’re talking to a world-class triathlete. You want to run first and then swim? We can ask the general to keep time.”

“Forsyth, you had an IV in your arm until three hours ago. Why don’t you save the ass thrashing for another day? And just in case you two babies were wondering, I did the Maui Ironman when you were in elementary school, and I can still spank both your butts.”

“How was your time, General?” Wylie was laughing down at him. The boy was huge, thighs like redwoods.

“Not bad. The Horse-Lord beat me by twelve seconds.”

They rode down to the second floor. The fitness center was a bright room with glass walls, full of exercise gear and weights. It overlooked the swimming pool and hot tub, down on the first floor, a twin to the outdoor pool.

Forsyth climbed onto a recumbent bike, which John thought was a smart way to warm up. He and Wylie got on treadmills. “So anything happen today while everyone was asleep? No one tried to breach our security?”

Wylie shook his head no. John cranked the treadmill up, started running at his warm-up pace.

“We did get a call, though,” Wylie said. “Somebody from the Bardo. Isn’t that the name of the museum Eli wanted to see?”

“Yeah,” Daniel said. “But it was closed for renovations. They said we should try the National Museum instead. But Eli had a bee in his bonnet that the elephant clock was in the Bardo, an original copy of the page from the book.”

“What book?” Wylie asked.

“
The Book of Knowledge of Ingenious Mechanical Devices
by Al-Jazari. Written in 1200 or something. Eli’s been crazy about this book since he was a kid.”

“Somebody at the museum heard the general talking about it on the news today, that you boys wanted to go to the Bardo,” Wylie said. “They left a number, said they would try and call back tomorrow. Said if you wanted a tour they would make arrangements for you to go.”

John looked back at Daniel. “What do you think?”

“He would love it,” Daniel said, “but he’s not strong enough yet to leave the hotel. I don’t like the way he looks. He’s sleeping all the time like he’s sick or he doesn’t want to be awake. Not like he’s tired. That PTSD, it’s worse when you sleep all the time when something happens.”

“He’s been getting antibiotics about 18 hours now. Let’s give him until the morning and we’ll decide if we need a medevac. I know he said he doesn’t want to leave with this unresolved, but if he’s hurt worse than we realize, I will overrule him and put you both on a plane.” John studied him a moment. “Daniel, you got knocked around, same as Eli. He seems to be worse off. Are you okay with what’s happening here, or do you just want to go?”

“See, the difference is Hannibal had his hopes set on Carthage. It meant something to him, and he wasn’t expecting to be kicked in the teeth. But when you’re braced for it, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal. I was in Iraq, in Fallujah. Back in that prison, I just pretended I was back in-country. Carthage was never my thing. I just wanted to come with Hannibal, watch his back. But, okay, I admit I’m feeling a little pissed off.”

“If you start having trouble, let me know.”

“Yes, sir, General Mitchel.”

“If you’re going to go off half-crazed, I might as well point you toward the bad guys, get some tactical advantage out of it.”

Daniel stared at him, then he and Wylie broke up into giggles. John cranked the speed up on his treadmill.

J
OHN
had set Kim and Abdullah researching locations of copies of Al-Jazari’s book with two goals in mind: first, to keep them busy and distracted so they wouldn’t be tempted to board a plane, as they had correctly suspected he was doing. And second, if they could acquire a copy of the rare book, they could use it as a bargaining chip. Painter would come up with fifty thousand, a hundred thousand and buy it from a struggling rare book collection or museum. Give it to the Tunisian people as a gift, or something like that, and John thought he would let Eli Green look at one of the originals. Look over the real book himself, and then if he wanted he could donate it to the Bardo. But now John was rethinking that plan. For one thing, he suspected the copies were more hidden, or more rare, than he had anticipated, because he’d not yet had a report from Kim and Kim was a world-class researcher. Secondly, the Minister of Culture was a fuckhead and so was his grandson and John didn’t think they deserved Al-Jazari’s wondrous book. But he would keep this in mind as a backup plan.

Their situation was getting worse. He had hoped he could play the Ministry of Culture as the good guys against the bad boys at the Ministry of Justice. But it looked to him like no one in this country was on their side. He finished three miles and left to walk back up to their rooms. Wylie was going to watch Daniel’s back so the boy could get a decent workout. John also suspected they were waiting for him to split so they could talk in peace without dad listening in.

The hallways were deserted. The only people he had seen in the hotel besides the staff were his crew. In his suite, Jen and Sam were still head down over their computers, and John put his hand down on Jen’s shoulder. “I would like to speak with you for a moment.”

She looked up, her wide hazel eyes blurry with fatigue. “What’s up? The press conference is running wild. Even Yahoo put it up. I don’t get a feel for what’s going to happen next, though. Sentiment seems to be equally divided. Do you want me to try and get you an interview with the BBC?”

John looked at Sam. “Not right now. Sam, will you give us a couple of minutes? I need to speak to Jen privately. I was also thinking we might eat down in the dining room tonight if you could make arrangements.”

“Okay.” He gave the girl a worried look, then went out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

“When we first got here,” John said, “You told me you thought the men had been targeted in retaliation for what you are doing here and the association of your name to your father’s company. The information I have collected to this point indicates your work and your name were not factors in these young men being targeted by the Salafists.”

She blinked up at him for a moment, confused, then comprehension dawned and the light in her face almost made her beautiful. She jumped out of the chair and threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Really? You’re sure? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?”

“Do you have any reason to suspect I would falsify information to make you feel better?”

“No, sir, General Mitchel. I do not think you would do that. Thanks for letting me know.”

“You’re welcome. We’re going down to the restaurant for dinner. Would you like to join us?” She was still wearing the shapeless brown gunnysack of a dress. “Would you like to clean up and change and join us?”

She looked down at herself. “That yellow shirt you were wearing really looked good. I love yellow.”

“No can do,” John said. “You’ve already stolen my shoestrings. You’ll have to appropriate clothing from someone else. If you could, I’d like you to stick around and remain the communications officer. My communications officer.”

She watched him for a moment. “Yes, General.”

“I need to gather some intel. I need to know exactly who at the Ministry besides Ali Bahktar has decision-making authority over the blasphemy charges and who has their passports. Also, I want to draw a family tree and find out every living relative he has currently in Tunisia and all points east, west, north, and south. Tell Sam to draw it like a mind map, with areas of influence.”

“Okay,” she said, looking confused. “Sam knows how to draw a mind map?”

“Yes, he does.”

John stuck his head in the bedroom door, noted the hazy light from curtains pulled against the sun. Eli was curled up on his side, facing the wall. I could really use Kim, he thought, watching the boy. Kim would have him laughing and sitting up, and he’d drag him out to the living room to sit on that horrible couch. John wasn’t sure the military approach was the correct one in this situation, but the military approach was the only one he knew.

Dr. Shakir had gone home with his father after the IV had been removed, and Youssef had assured John he could call on him anytime for transportation or assistance. Eli was able to swallow the rest of the antibiotics as pills, and had eaten some rice at lunchtime and kept it down.

John pulled the chair around and sat down. Eli looked at him, his pretty green eyes far away. “I don’t know I’ve ever seen eyes that color green before,” John said. “Jen’s eyes are hazel, but yours are the mossy green you see on those big rocks on the Northern Pacific coast. Anyone else in your family have those green eyes?”

“Yeah, my mother, grandmother, and one sister. I really hated that my sister had the same eyes, because I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know her when we were at school. We looked like twins, and she was two years younger than me, so she followed me around spying on me. She would tell my mom everything she’d seen me doing. I really hated that. I hated having my mom know my business.” He studied John for a moment. “Have you told everybody?”

“Told everybody what?”

“That I was raped.”

“No. I told the Station Chief in Tunisia, the woman who is second in command at the embassy, that you guys were interrogated, beaten, and raped. She doesn’t know any specific details, and she doesn’t need to know. But that information was necessary for her to understand what I will do to keep you out of a Tunisian prison, up to and including breaking international law to fly you out of the country or breaking the neck of any evil fucker who gets near you.”

“Okay. I get it.”

“So of your several serious injuries, that’s the one that you want to keep hidden?”

He was silent for a moment, looking inward. “People will look at me differently. Getting your arm broke is one thing. Every nasty word, every insult I’ve ever heard for being raped in prison has been floating through my mind for the last hour. I don’t want to be that person. Am I going to look in the mirror and see these words plastered all over my face for the rest of my life? It’s like I keep thinking if I was stronger I should have been able to fight them off. I’m a fucking Ranger? I don’t think so. I bet there’s never been a Ranger raped in prison before. Am I a different person now? I’m not the guy I used to be, that much I know. What do I do now?”

John felt utterly helpless in the face of Eli’s pain and humiliation. “I don’t know what to do for you,” he said.

“You did it already. You walked into that stinking pit of a prison with nothing but a couple of Marines and big balls and you walked me and Daniel out.”

“I don’t want to think I left something behind. Like your ability to sleep peacefully for the rest of your life. Your self-respect. What do you think would help?”

“I don’t know,” Eli said. “But don’t try to put me on a plane to Tel Aviv. I want this made right.”

“What do you want made right? The blasphemy charge? The attack in the prison?”

Eli shook his head, looking so young and so broken that John felt his heart crack. “All of it. I want to make all of it right.”

“Okay,” John said. “I’ll get to work.” That got him a smile. “And you can get into the shower and come down to dinner. We’re eating in the restaurant downstairs.”

J
OHN
’
S
mentor, Admiral Mike Adams, had always insisted on the team sitting down to a meal together, even in the middle of crisis. He called it the wardroom, said the wardroom needed at least thirty minutes together talking about something else. John looked around the table at the wardroom. They were nice kids, a few sparks of potential genius, a few loyal, hard workers. He needed to call the wardroom to dinner every day going forward. It would turn Eli and Daniel into working team members, rather than victims. They both needed something to do, something to contribute to the effort.

It was the first time they had been together as a group, and everyone was shy with each other. He listened to the awkward conversation, wished he had Kim’s people skills. When the phone vibrated in his pocket, he pulled it out, hoping for a text from Gabriel. He was having serious withdrawal from his Horse-Lord, but he didn’t think Gabriel was coming until the middle of the night. He was getting times zones mixed up, though. Maybe he was coming sooner. It was a text from Gabriel, but it just said,
John, brace yourself
.

Brace yourself
? What the hell did that mean? He looked up, through the glass walls of the restaurant, through the crowds of waiters standing around with nothing to do, and he saw a cello coming across the lobby on a luggage cart. “Holy shit,” he said, standing up. “Please don’t let this be….” Wylie was at his side in about four seconds flat. He waved him down.