Bashra found him asleep on the chair clutching the bottle with the tassel.
“Set it down, dear husband, and let me spit on it. Is this what you have risked our lives for?”
Nadir opened his eyes. Bashra stood with her hands on her hips and derision on her lips. A slow grin crossed his face. “Nay, nay, Little Mare, this is our path to wealth and fame.” He stood and embraced his wife. Picking her up and swinging her around, he whispered, “Oh wife, we are so blessed. We will have everything we want and need. You need to rejoice.”
“We shall see. Shall I prepare you a meal?”
“First I must hide this magic relic according to the Mahdi’s instructions. Then I will inform our great leader of my blessed success to obtain it.”
He hid the bottle deep within the narrow cave in the hiding place that he and Bashra thought of as their own. Nadir arrived at the Mahdi’s palace with great anticipation and attempted great humility when given audience. “Oh, great Mahdi, Allah has blessed me, and I have taken the relic bottle from the terrible Jews. It now belongs to you and will add to your already magnificent powers. I thank you for letting me be of such great service to you.”
“Yes, yes, where have you hidden it?” Mahdi did not look up from writing at his ornate wooden desk, piled with papers, books, and foods.
Nadir bowed. “It’s in a favorite hiding place about a mile from here, a wonderful unnoticed place. There is an outcropping of rocks enclosing a narrow cave. Back in the cave there is a small cavern covered by a rock or two. The bottle sits there wrapped in a cloth to protect it from breaking.”
“Thank you . . . your name again, young man?”
Nadir’s shoulder slumped. He remembers not my name? “Nadir Mehmet, sir.”
“Thank you, Nadir. That is all.”
Nadir walked home with his head hung low. Perhaps I should move it. Perhaps I should take it and run. I could probably sell it. Does he not know what great risk I suffered? Does he not know what great powers it has? He will still honor me, I know.
Bashra stood at the window as he walked toward the house. As he came through the door. Bashra spat. “He did not care? Is that right?”
“No, no, he was very excited.”
“You lie. I know you better than that. I have prepared food. Sit and eat. I must go to market.”
Nadir sat and looked at the food. His appetite was gone. But then, Bashra’s cooking did not ever help his appetite or attitude.
Nadir looked up. He had fallen asleep again. Bashra stood before him. “I have praised you in the market place, my dear husband.”
Nadir jumped up, his eyes big. “What do you mean?” His voice was too loud.
Bashra spat. “You yell? I have honored you where the Mahdi did not. I have told how you were given great assignment with great success in stealing a relic from the Jews, giving you great approval from Allah, and hopefully great wealth from the Mahdi.”
“We must run. Now, Bashra. We must leave.” He wanted to strike her but could not bring himself to do such things. “This was to be a great secret. They will come after us.”
In tears, Nadir’s wife began to gather their meager belongings. Nadir paced back and forth in their little house trying to formulate a getaway plan. The hardest part was letting go of his earlier certainty of great wealth. Now he prayed for their lives to be spared.
“Nadir, look. A car from the Mahdi. Perhaps they come to honor you?”
“I fear they will no longer honor me, my Little Mare. Hurry, you go hide. I must go with them. Perhaps my fears are unnecessary. You should hide until I return. I love you, sweet Bashra.”
Bashra’s tears increased and she clung to him. “Nadir, I did not mean to dishonor you. I . . . ”
“You must go quickly, Bashra. I will find you. Do not fear.”
Nadir shook all the way to the palace. The driver and the bodyguard said not a word. Upon arriving, he was not ushered into the Mahdi’s chambers. Instead they took him down stairs. He felt he was descending into water and the waves were washing over him. He gasped for breath. The cold embraced him within and without. Not a word was said. The guards simply placed him in a cell and left.
That morning he’d been confident of great reward, convinced he’d be the recipient of great treasures he could lavish upon his wife, the one person he loved more than himself. Now cold and hungry, he sat in a dungeon, wondering where his wife was and if she would survive.
The questions were short-lived. He heard the door clanking and familiar cries. Slaps and screams came closer and closer.
The guard who shoved Bashra in with Nadir, laughed. “Stupid man. Hide the relic and tell his wife to hide there as well.”
Nadir’s face fell into his hands. He looked up at his wife. Her face was tear-stained and red with welts from being slapped. He stood and embraced her.
“I did not know, Nadir. I did not know. They knew our hiding place.”
Nadir began to sob. “I did not think I would need a hiding place anymore. I was so sure we’d be honored and rewarded. And I did not think that you would go there.” He looked sadly at his wife. “I know. I should have thought of that. Perhaps there will be mercy given.”
“The Mahdi is not known for mercy, dear husband.”
The two sat, hungry and slumped over, for three days. The smell was worse than they thought possible and fear ate at their every fiber.
The clang of guards entering the dungeon sent Bashra into screams and writhing on the floor. Nadir could only shake his head and acknowledge that his wife’s boasting had eclipsed their lives. He would not hate her for he truly loved his Little Mare.
The sunlight burned his eyes as they were dragged into the courtyard.
“You are being shot for deceiving the Mahdi.”
“That cannot be.” Nadir turned to the guard. He was met with a whip across the face. Nadir pulled himself up from the ground trying to resist the pain that seared his face. “Are we not being punished for bragging about stealing the bottle from the Jews?”
Bashra, even in her fear and depleted energy, managed to spit when her husband mentioned the Jews.
The guard sneered. “The bottle was not there. After they deposited you in the dungeon, they searched your home for the relic and then checked the site you named a second time. Your wife, only, was found. And she is not what the Mahdi was interested in.”
“No, no, I told him exactly where to look. It must still be there. I gave him direct instructions.”
“The Mahdi does not like lies.”
Gunshots echoed.
A young boy skipped into a small house. “Look, Father, I have found buried treasure.” He extended his hand.
“Hmmm, what have you found? A bottle? You think it is treasure?”
“I saw a man go into a cave where we like to play. After he left, I went in there and found another tiny cave I had not seen before and the bottle was in there.”
“Avram, do you think it is anything? Son, did the man put it there, or was it already there?”
“I do not know, Mama, but it looks important. It looks like the strings at the bottom of the rabbi’s shawls.”
Avram’s wife examined the bottle. “Why it does, and it looks well sealed. Should we give it to the Jews down the street?”
Avram rose from his seat. “Let us wait. Perhaps we will hear something in the marketplace. Perhaps we could sell it if, indeed, it has value.”
“Can I play with it, Father? Can I take it apart?”
“No, son, I think we need to hide it for now and not say anything. Let us only listen. Do you understand, son? We don’t want there to be trouble because of this.”
The boy wrinkled his nose and lips. “Maybe I can find more treasure in that cave.”
“No.” His mother placed her hands on his shoulder. “Stay away from there for a few weeks.”
The boy blew out air. “I have other places to play. Maybe I can find something that is of value somewhere else.” He turned and ran out
of the house to play.
CHAPTER 13
PRESENT DAY, SYRIA
“Mom, it’s Tassel. Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Tassie kept her voice chipper. “Just decided to take a break with a business trip. Sunny Florida. It’s wonderful.” She paused. “Oh, yes, it was slow at work, so they actually suggested I go.” Tassie glanced at Omar as her mother questioned her. “No, they are totally happy—this is like a reward.” Omar put his finger to his neck and made a slashing motion and scowled at her. “Well, gotta run. It’s happy hour. Give Dad and Uncle Hector my love.” Tassie hit ‘end’ on the phone.
“Give me your phone.” It wasn’t a request.
Please, God, don’t let Mother call back. Tassie dutifully followed Omar back to the room where the other women were. Tassie entered and went to a corner to sit. The other women tolerated Tassie, but she could feel their contempt. She’d tried to help with the cooking and cleaning, but they would have none of it. Tassie was sure they enjoyed ignoring her and seeing her ignored by the men when she served food.
She couldn’t imagine what would happen if they knew she was Jewish.
Tassie hoped her mother noticed that she said ‘Mom’ when she always said ‘Mother’ and Tassel when she always went by Tassie. Please, Mother, notice, think. Tassie sighed. Even if she missed those things, surely she’d know when Tassie said ‘Uncle Hector’.
“Did you hear? Ukraine took back the airport.”
Omar cursed. “We’ll need a different way to get Hakan in with the weapons.”
Tassie set the food on the table, keeping her eyes downcast. Nobody paid any attention. She was invisible. What a way to live. Put on a burka and disappear.
An idea began to form. Disappear. Don’t think now. Just be the robot. Formulate a plan after discovering their plan.
The room was dimly lit and filled with men in suits and men in Arabic robes. Men of importance and men who desperately wanted to be important. She set the variety of dishes before them. At least I’m learning some good recipes. The meze, a selection of several dishes to accompany alcoholic drinks, intrigued her. White cheese, melon, a walnut type paste, a heavy yogurt, and stuffed vine leaves covered the table. Thankfully, the women were able to eat the same food in the kitchen. Not the arak, the anise seed drink, however.
She really needed a drink. No, probably not. She needed to be clear-headed to figure out a way to escape.
“My cousin is Ukrainian.”
Everyone laughed. “You have cousins from every country, Yusef.”
Fortunately, the conversation was in English. These guys must be from all over the world, or at least the Middle East and east of that.
Tassie chided herself for not being able to detect correctly a Russian or Middle Eastern accent. She had always been so focused upon celebrating multi-culturalism that she did not take in distinctive attributes.
“Really. I’m serious. He is Ukrainian, and he is with us. Like a cousin. How’s that?” Yusef pleaded his case.
“Lemkrof needs to move. These elections must go in our direction. Yusef, is Nikoli Lemkrof your cousin?”
The laughter around the table was derisive. Yusef hung his head and did not answer.
Omar raised his hand and the laughter stopped. “Lemkrof knows my power. I will speak, and he will hear.”
Tassie heard no more as she left the room, her serving of food complete.
The door opened from the meeting room and one of the men waved his hand. “More drink, woman. Bring arak and wine!” The command was followed by Arabic words.
The other women thrust a bottle into each of Tassie’s hands. She poured arak into Omar’s cup and then set both bottles down as he waved his hand, dismissing her. As she was about to go through the door, a gun shot rang out.
Tassie fell to the floor with her hands over her ears. She could not stifle the scream. When she looked up she saw a man on the floor. She screamed again.
Omar was standing over her and slapped her. “Get the other women to help clean up this mess.” Tassie couldn’t move. She looked at Omar.
Omar laughed. “This is why women are only good for a few things.” Hearty laughter was followed by faces that were tense. Tassie took the moment to scan the eyes as they all beheld Omar. She saw intense fear. Each one glanced at Yusef’s dead body, then quickly looked back to Omar.
Omar yanked Tassie up by her arm. “His cousin is not Ukrainian. Now go get the women to clean this up.” He slammed his fist on the wall. “Now, woman!”
Tassie hurried through the door. The women were all standing erect as if they were waiting. They know. I’m now one of them. She signaled for them to come with her. Two brought towels and a bucket. Three grabbed the man and hauled him out.
Tassie followed the bucket-woman’s lead and knelt to mop up the blood with a towel. Vomit threatened to rise and she used every ounce of strength she had to keep it down. The cloths were quickly saturated, and the women placed them in the bucket and exited the room. Holding hands over their mouths they reached for more towels. Tassie nodded at them, took two clean towels and indicated she would complete the job. She fell to her knees as she returned to the meeting room and swabbed every last ounce of blood. She did not look up and kept her back to Omar, hoping she would again be invisible. It seemed she was.
“We have only a few years before the next U.S. election. The American public has no stomach to do anything. But, if the next presidency is more hardline, they will choose action. We must accomplish our goals before that time. Lemkrof needs to follow through on his threats to take Ukraine, so we can move into Slovakia and Czech Republic. As a result, Russia will get sanctions, but that is nothing.” Omar’s derisive tone felt like bites on Tassie’s skin. She shivered, but wiped methodically, slowly, and she listened.
“We must all organize Moldova, Estonia, and Georgia. Ukraine should be having dreams of Russian occupation with memories of Nazi occupation. We need pro-Russian blood to be spilled in each of these countries so Lemkrof has reason to invade, to assist his people.”
“The U.S. will see through his plans, don’t you think, sir?”
“He has nothing to fear from the U.S. The White House will not even provide arms.” Omar looked around. “You will find contacts from these countries who will pass information, weapons, and will stir up strife. We help Lemkrof. He helps us. Our goal to annihilate Israel continues to proceed.
“What will be fun is if we can get the U.S. to show any force. That will give us great pleasure to respond. Russia sends weapons openly to us which is why the U.S. won’t show force. But, we get weapons anyway. Lemkrof can pretend to rescue Russian Israelis, or we have time to grow strong and go in ourselves. We must silence the U.S. and Israel through mocking intimidation and get more people there to voice support for us.”
Omar paused. “Woman!”
Tassie jerked upward, but kept her head turned away from Omar.
“Get us tea and coffee!”
Tassie scurried to the kitchen.
Two women actually smiled at Tassie, each one handing her a pitcher, one black tea, the other cardamom coffee. Taking a deep breath, Tassie moved slowly through the door and gingerly set one pot down near Omar.
“Ukraine gave up nuclear facilities in 1994 on the premise that the U.S. would protect them.” Omar laughed. “That was priceless. The U.S. did not protect them, and Russia will own Ukraine in just a matter of time. Then they will move into the surrounding countries.”
One of the men raised a hand. “I do believe the U.S. is doing fly-overs. Is that not a threat?”
“Only a show of contempt. They think that will move us.” Laughter rose up and several held up a cup for Tassie to pour tea.
“You may have heard the rumors about Jews having to register in Ukraine. There was a great outcry about it and then they found out it was only a rumor. Soon it was forgotten. When it actually happens, they will again think it a rumor and dismiss it. Lemkrof will wait for their high holy day in the fall and announce it. If
there is an outcry, he will show balance and have the Christians and Muslims register, too. Then he will let it sit a while, and when the time is right, the Jews can be done away with.”
The men nodded their approval.
“We are very near, my comrades. America partied and prospered. We made plans. And yes, Jordan’s ambassador was kidnapped in Tripoli. In exchange, we will get back our brother who planned the bombing of the airport. Jordan thinks the U.S. will help them, but the U.S. will do nothing inside Jordan. Benghazi stopped them in their tracks. Instead of rising up in retaliation as any good Arab would do, they cower in the background. Even though Jordan is fighting al-Qaeda, the U.S. does nothing of importance to assist them.”
Omar took a sip of coffee before he continued. “The Secretary of State is even informing the U.S. that Syria is fulfilling its commitment to destroy all chemical weapons.” Omar paused and rolled his eyes, giving everyone permission to laugh and high-five each other.
“Everything is gone except eight percent which is behind insurgent lines.” Omar’s voice rose to a high pitch. He chuckled, and then his face went somber. “Those chemicals are here. We will use them if we need to. Lemkrof knows. The U.S. can think what they want. We know. Now you know.” Low gasps were heard around the room.
Tassie could not believe her ears. Chemical weapons in Syria. She must do something. She needed to get word to someone.
Who would believe her? And where would she begin? She realized she had stopped pouring and a few heads were turning her way. She set the pot on the table, put her head down, and returned to the kitchen.
It was a restless sleep. Tassie finally gave up and lay wide awake. But what tickled the back of her mind? What kept attempting to rise up in her thinking? She didn’t need memories now. She needed strategies, a way of escape. Escape. Had she met a person that could help her? She mentally checked off all those she dealt with here. No one seemed to be a means of escape. Tassie closed her eyes. She longed for sleep.
That tickle introduced itself again. However, she was finally drifting off and she ignored the tickle. Dreaming almost immediately, she was back in Door County with Omar and falling in love. Even in the dream she cringed. What was I thinking?
Blood Moon Redemption Page 11