“Kessler has informed me that
we will exit and return through a gate in the fence used by the Israelis to
chase drug and hooker smugglers across the border. The Egyptians know of
it and turn a blind eye once in a while.”
“You say hooker
smugglers?” Natasha questioned.
“Yes," Kessler
interjected, "besides drugs, the Bedouins sometimes smuggle women from
Eastern Europe through the Sinai into Israel."
Natasha felt faint. She
glanced at Sam.
“How do they get to the
Sinai?”
“They ship them to
Alexandria,” Kessler
retorted
.
“From
where?”
“Places like Croatia, Turkey,
Greece
...”
Natasha lost a heartbeat,
thinking of Peka’s sister.
“I just followed a group of
these girls from Romania to Athens!” she exclaimed.
“It’s a common route,” Kessler
continued matter-of-factly. “They ship them in cargo boats from Piraeus
to Alexandria and from there they get them here.”
“How do you know all
this?”
“We’ve caught quite a few of
these so called “shipments”, not to mention the raids on the parlors.”
“What do you do with the girls
you find?”
“We hand them over to their
respective embassies. They send them back, I guess.”
“Send them back, where?”
Natasha squealed heatedly, noticeably upset.
Kessler looked around the room
anxiously.
“To their families I guess…”
he began to reply defensively.
“Sorry, David, sorry, I was
out of line,” Natasha cut him short. “You’re not to blame. I’m
sorry. Go on Mr. Harley, we’ll deal with this some other time. Not
now. Now we need to get Jack out.”
“Look people,” Sam said
apologetically, “we’ve been at this for a while and this sort of situation
always finds you unprepared. It’s tough to do things in parallel with the
manpower we have so we’ll have to work it one at a time. But this insight
is important to us. It ties some loose ends so with your permission,
David, I suggest we discuss it later.”
“Fine with me,” Kessler
agreed, noticeably relieved to defer the issue and pacify Natasha. He
thought she was even prettier when she was angry but he preferred to see her
calm and friendly.
“Right then,” Harley
continued, “we go in, the five of us. Mike you take point, Malcolm in
rear. You two will have the thermal cameras and video link so Copeland
can see where we are going.
“Jimmy, you take the stretcher.
No telling in what condition we’ll find them and we may have to carry someone
back. At the fence, we each get an M-16 with magazines; smoke grenades,
helmets and short wave radios. Lizzy’s second in command. If
anything happens to me, you guys listen to him.”
They all nodded in unison and
Mai-Li wondered how the two officers, Devlin and Rolston, could allow a mere
sergeant to take command. Knowing a little about Harley and his methods,
she suspected formal military rank was not the yardstick in his book but rather
experience and performance. Obviously, O’Leary, the old veteran, was more
highly regarded in the troop, and the younger officers seemed to have no
problem with it.
Back to the map, Harley
detailed the route and where they had to end up.
“The canyon cuts about a
kilometer deep into the cliffs.” He nodded at Copeland who changed the
slide, displaying an aerial photo of the gorge. “As you can see, it looks
uniquely green compared the surrounding landscape which means it has water and
vegetation.
A good place to hide.”
Kessler interjected
again. “The Egyptians patrol this gorge once in a while. They know
it’s a good hiding place for lawbreakers.”
Harley nodded and continued.
“We stay there a maximum four
nights. If by the end of the fourth night, your people don’t show up, we
split and we don’t come back. This is a one shot deal, as we
agreed. I won’t risk it again.”
Harley was looking at Mai-Li
who glanced at Sam. They both nodded. That was the deal.
Half a million US dollars for a one shot deal.
Sam
prayed Black Jack would make it.
“We move only at night.
We hide during the day. There should be plenty to feast on in that gorge
and water will not be a problem. We’ll time how long it’ll take to get
there across the flatlands and calculate our return accordingly.
“Copeland, you run this
show. There’s a monitoring station not far above our entry point,” Harley
advised. “You work from there. Follow our route and keep us
informed. They’ll give us the bandwidth when they give us the short wave
radios. Let's hope the transmitters of our thermal cameras are powerful
enough to get you the video output.”
“Until you reach the canyon
the terrain is flat so there shouldn't be any problems. Once inside the
canyon, we may encounter some disconnects.” Copeland said.
“Fine, we'll deal with
it. We’ll need you, Mr. Kessler, as liaison to the Israelis. The
rest can stay here on the beach if you'd like.” Harley summed up,
flashing a rare smile at Mai-Li.
“Oh, and one last point,”
Harley remembered.
He looked around the room
making eye contact with every one before he spoke.
“My team does not exist.
You do not mention us to anyone. Ever!” he
said,
his face serious and quite intimidating. “Once this is over, we
disappear. Is that clear?”
Everyone nodded
silently. Kashmir or any other business was not to be mentioned. It
was another matter for another day with a different set of ground rules.
It was time for Harley to take
center stage and deliver his goods.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Faraj spotted the perfect
hiding spot past midday as the shadows began to tilt east.
It was a cave that bore into
the rock face, high off the canyon floor, hidden by a large fig tree. The
only way up to it was climbing the fig tree about a third of the way, then
stepping on to the cave which was big enough for Clair and Ibrahim to lay, sit
and even stand.
Faraj had no intention of
using it. He would remain below and stand guard.
They had walked all the way
through the gorge to the spring then back a fourth of the way, before Faraj
noticed the cave.
It was the perfect spot.
Near it, the brook formed a little pool they could soak in and wash themselves
and there was no shortage of figs and dates off nearby trees. They could
even reach the top of the large fig tree from the cave without having to climb
down.
It felt like the Garden of
Eden and Clair thought it might have been. The ambience was
enticing. After the long haul in the arid mountains, they could not get
enough of the generous oasis that had taken them in. All along the
flowing brook were flowers and bushes alive with butterflies, bees, and other
forms of life, even birds.
They could stop and drink
cool, clear fresh water at will and feed on the desert fruit off the trees
whenever they wished.
And the place seemed
deserted!
They had advanced carefully
through the entire canyon but did not see or hear a soul. Here and there
they found some human reminders like a bottle or shriveled paper, but it
appeared they were alone. As the sun gradually lowered over the rim of
the canyon, they sat around the pool and made plans for the night.
“How do we tell between
someone coming to get us and someone coming to kill us?” Ibrahim
questioned Faraj and his mother, innocently.
It was a fair question, one
which troubled Clair ever since they reached the canyon. She looked at
Faraj for guidance but he seemed oblivious though he understood the dilemma.
“I think they will come at
night,” Faraj pitched in, all of a sudden.
“We’ll need to keep watch,”
Clair observed.
“I watch, you sleep,” Faraj
offered, pointing to the cave.
“We’ll take turns,” Clair
insisted. “I’ll split the night watch with you. Ibrahim will
sleep.”
“I can keep watch,” Ibrahim complained,
a little offended.
“No, you need to rest and
recoup,” Clair persisted. “You’ve barely been able to walk the last few
days. You need your strength back. Faraj and I will keep watch.”
Ibrahim translated and Faraj
nodded indifferently. They collected figs for the
night,
Clair climbed up to the cave with Ibrahim to make sure he was comfortable, then
climbed back down to stand watch. Faraj had already curled up under the
fig tree, snoring.
Clair sat by the pool, letting
her legs dangle in the water. Though night had come, it was still very
warm. She had gotten used to spending nights out in the open air under
the stars, making the hard ground her hearth. By now she had forgotten
what a mattress felt like not to mention clean sheets. But she liked the
desert. She had no fears of it. It was simple, straightforward
life, healthy for body and soul. She noticed her body. It had
become robust, thin and strong, more agile and could endure more. Not an
ounce of extra fat. It had all been consumed by the pretentious
trek. They had followed the Katarina Ridge all the way from the road
leading up to the famous Monastery to where she sat now, where it sloped down
to the flatlands across from Israel. Quite a large chunk of the Sinai,
she reckoned.
She looked to the canyon’s
entrance, wondering if anyone was coming their way and thought about what they
should do if no one came. She now understood why the Bedouin sheik had
suggested they be picked up here, rather than attempt crossing the flatlands,
evade Egyptian border patrols and cross the border to Israel.
They could not do it without
help. If the Egyptians did not get them, the Israelis may shoot them for
trespassing or something else. To cross the border, they would have to
coordinate with the Israelis as a minimum in order to have a chance.
Faraj was telling them there were Bedouin tribes, smuggling things over to
Israel, who were just as dangerous as the Egyptians, if not more.
It was bleak at best to try it
alone but they could not stay in the canyon forever. Then she thought
maybe she could send Faraj to alert the Israelis but rejected the idea
admitting he had done enough for them and it would be unjust to put him at
risk.
There had to be a way, but she
was just too exhausted to think of one at the moment. Then she thought of
Jack, even pictured him in her mind,
talked
to him.
Then the ghosts appeared.
Devlin saw the woman through
the thermal glasses. She lay on her side by a small pool. She
looked almost dead.
He held up his fist and the
troop halted, all kneeling on one knee.
He signaled and Harley
silently approached, taking the glasses for a survey of his own.
They did not exchange words. Harley then sent Lizzy O’Leary and Jimmy,
each on a wraparound while Rolston remained guarding their backs. He and
Devlin approached the woman. The canyon was silent except for the faint
flow of water in the brook as it entered and exited the small pool.
They crouched over her
surveying the area but detected no one else. She was alone, deep in her
sleep. They had with them a photo of Clair and instantly identified her
but worried over where her companions were.
Harley put his large palm on
her mouth, holding her firm, and gently woke her up. For an instant she squirmed
under his hold, eyes bewildered,
then
relaxed as he
soothingly whispered to her.
“It’s OK, Clair.
Christine sent us.”
She shut her eyes and Harley
felt her body settle, the tension dissolving like air out of a balloon.
“Where’s Jack?
And Ibrahim?”
Harley whispered.
Her eyes flew open and she sat
awake. Then she scooted up, sprinted toward the canyon wall and
disappeared among the trees only to bump into Jimmy who had Faraj in his grasp.
Harley and Devlin were right
behind her.
“Ibrahim, he’s up there,” she
pointed up, worriedly to a dark spot on the canyon wall. “He’s
asleep. Let me get him.”
The troopers made way and
Clair jumped on the fig tree and began to climb. Faraj stood silently by
in awe of the phantom
who
had caught him in his sleep.
“We move at once,” Harley
directed, as they assembled by the small pool after Clair had fetched Ibrahim
and briefly told the troop of Black Jack’s misfortune.
“That is a hefty blow,” Harley
observed. “You coming with us?” he asked Faraj in fluent Arabic.
The Bedouin shook his
head. “I go back to my people.”
Clair took out her fifty
francs and gave it to him.
“Thank you Faraj. I’ll
never forget what you and your people did for us. Thank your father,
Ahmed, Kabir and the rest for me. You saved us.”
Faraj nodded his head and
flashed his crooked smile.
“May Allah be with you,”
he
acknowledged.
Then Harley fished out a wad
of bills from his pocket and gave two to Faraj. They were fifty pound
sterling notes.
“You find out what happened to
Jack and you let me know.”
Faraj looked up at him,
grateful. He was suddenly rich.
“Use the woman on the coast
who
helped us,” Harley added, hoping Faraj knew what he
meant.
Faraj was nodding his head eagerly
as Clair squeezed his hand and they moved out, leaving him standing by the
pool.
They moved silently, Devlin in
front, Rolston in back with the thermal imaging cameras.
Clair and Ibrahim in Harley’s footsteps followed by Lizzy and
Jimmy.
It was just past
midnight. It had taken them two hours to cross the flatlands and another
half hour to reach their objective.
They had plenty of time to
make it back in the dark, but a mere ten minutes from the waterfall, the short
wave radio suddenly squeaked to life.
It was Copeland and it meant
trouble.
Throughout they maintained
radio silence. Copeland could see their progress through the cameras via
the video link. But he could only alert them via the radio.
“Zebra this is Echo.
Stay put! Don’t leave Oasis. There’s a patrol coming your way,
over.”
“Echo this is Zebra,” Harley
replied, whispering.
“Staying put until you advise, over and
out.”
They scrambled back deeper
into the canyon and began to hole up in dark niches. Harley took Ibrahim
with him and sent Clair with Lizzy. They each found a hiding spot making
sure they made eye contact with at least one of the troop.
Then they waited.
Three hours went by before
they heard noises, faint at first then louder. Finally the Egyptian
patrol showed up, like a glowing Christmas tree; flashlights, loud talk, weapon
noises.
Total recklessness.
They were the
landlords and were not shy advertising the fact; they could afford to ignore
stealth.
They walked by the
hiding flock, not particularly bothered about finding anyone, and continued
deeper into the canyon.
Harley signaled Rolston to
follow them, which he carefully did, keeping a fair distance, easily tracking
them with the night-vision camera.
He counted five, all heavily
armed with weapons, magazines, grenades, and he even spotted an infantry
anti-tank missile on someone’s back. He followed them silently to the
pool area where they made camp.
By the time Rolston reported
back it was becoming light. Harley gathered everyone around him.
“Looks like we’ve missed our
chance to cross,” he whispered disappointedly. “We’ll need to dig in.”
“It’ll be tricky,” Lizzy
observed, “with these guys in here. We’ll need to stay alert until they
leave.”
“Well, we’ll need to work fast
if we want proper cover before it gets any lighter.” Harley noted.
“Mike, you and Jimmy position
yourselves
on the other
side of the brook facing the entrance. Lizzy, you and Malcolm find a
place towards where the Egyptians are located and give us a heads up if anyone
moves. Clair, you and Ibrahim stay with me.”
“Do we radio Copeland?”
Devlin asked.
“No, he’ll work it out.
Keep eye contact if you can. We use radio only in a colossal
emergency. Grab some water and food before you dig in and don’t forget to
turn off the cameras,” Harley instructed.
They all parted. Harley
led Clair and Ibrahim to the canyon wall where they found a narrow slit in the
rock behind some fig trees and bushes. The opening was just large enough
for the three of them to fit in, if needed, but they remained hidden sitting
behind the vegetation, as long as no immediate danger loomed.
“You sleep!” Harley ordered
Clair and Ibrahim after they had each collected some figs and he had stooped
over to the brook to fill up the canteens.
It was becoming distinctly
light as Clair curled up with Ibrahim, her back perched on the canyon wall,
Ibrahim’s head on her lap.
She studied Harley from the
corner of her eye. He looked taut and sharp for a man who had been up
trekking all night. Not a hint of slack in his conduct. He
was alert; His look was rugged yet he calmly sat by, patiently managing the
long and monotonous, nerve-wracking wait.
Later she felt him tugging at
her shoulder and noticed his face close to hers gesturing for her to keep very
still.
Something was happening.
She was not sure how long
she’d slept,
then
noticed the sun high above them to
the west. Ibrahim was still asleep on her lap.
Harley was crawling off on his
stomach through the bush. Then the radio squeaked.
“They’ve got the Bedouin.”
It was Lizzy, whispering. “They are coming our way.”
“Let them pass, then shoot
them from the back.
A bullet each to the head.
Go Easy on the ammunition. Mike, if anyone gets through, you
handle
him. We owe the little
fella
.
Copy?”
Devlin responded. “We’re
ready.”
From their vantage point,
elevated above the canyon floor, Lizzy and Rolston could watch the Egyptian
troop camped around the pool, and had first noted the commotion seeing Faraj
trying to elude the determined soldiers who had him cornered. When they
finally caught him, they could only hear him howl, as the soldiers gave him a
thrashing. Then they appeared marching him out like a sacred goat, his
hands tied behind his back, his face smeared with blood, moving gingerly in
front of the troop.