by Niv Kaplan
Mai-Li sat by Harley dipping small pieces of pita-bread in Labaneh spread sprinkled with olive oil and Zaatar.
“This is heavenly!” she remarked. “Ever had this?”
“I did, in Jordan a couple of years back. Why don’t you try this,” he said, handing her a Falafel ball. “Dip it in this humus. It’s a treat.”
For Mai-Li it was a first acquaintance with Israel and the Middle East; the rest of the crew had been there before.
Mike Devlin and Malcolm Rolston were reminiscing on old times they had when the two of them visited the Gaza strip on a regiment rescue mission that had almost gone bad. As events heated up in Gaza, they were sent to pull out a British diplomat who had upset the Islamic Jihad movement and had gotten himself trapped and threatened in a war zone near Rafiah. They were dispatched from a submarine, swam roughly two kilometers to shore and had to covertly find the diplomat and escort him to Israeli territory. They found him holed up in a run-down youth hostel thanks to a short wave radio he had in his possession, one he had used to call for help. As they escorted him, dressed up as Arabs through the streets of Gaza, hunger got the better of them. They had stopped at a food stand and ordered three Kebab pita sandwiches, before continuing on. They were nearly shot at by the Israelis at the border checkpoint, as they scooted through avoiding inspection, sandwiches in hand. Luckily, a Shabac operative aware of their actions, was there to restrain nervous triggers.
Lizard O’Leary, Lieutenant Brian Copeland, and Jimmy the driver were all acquainted with Israel on separate occasions, mainly as a launching pad to SAS Middle Eastern operations and all were familiar with foremost Israeli Special Forces units.
Kessler arrived shortly after everyone had sedated their hunger, loaded up a plate and sat down nimbly next to Harley.
“Great news,” he said, biting into a watermelon, addressing Mai-Li. “Christine made it out. She’s already here. Sam and Natasha are with her. They’ll come in soon.”
Harley squeezed Mai-Li’s shoulder.
“We’re all happy for you,” he said, his men nodding around the table. They had been given a full update by Kessler on the way down and knew all about the complex operation of liberating Christine. Mai-Li had been quite anxious and could breathe a little easier now.
“We’ll start the briefing just as soon as they get in here,” Kessler announced, mouth full, referring to the planned final coordination meeting before they set out to bring back the “Sinai fugitives”, a name Harley’s men had come up with in the mini-bus for the four who had been wondering around the Sinai for over three weeks, Christine included. They were already aware of Ortega’s fate, ever since Mai-Li had approached them for help.
Copeland produced a laptop with a portable overhead PC projector and began hooking it up. A few minutes later Sam and the two women came in.
All eyes were on them, the chatter in the room all but ceased, except for Kessler who was still dipping away at the various salads.
Christine looked transformed. Mai-Li had not seen her for several months and she noticed the dramatic change. Her color was dark brown and she was noticeably thinner and firmer than how Mai-Li remembered her. She was obviously very tired but incredibly resolute, her look conveying newfound insight and determination. Next to her, in stark contrast of color, the fair Natasha, though taller, looked almost her opposite image.
Mai-Li got up and embraced each of them, Sam being last. Then she made the all-round introductions and everyone settled in around the table, Sam and Natasha stopping by the buffet to grab some food and serve Christine who was hungry but too exhausted to stand.
The overhead projector came to life onto a white screen across the room as Copeland displayed a scanned version of the map Christine had given the Bedouin contact who had smuggled it out. Kessler, who had just finished eating, offered to begin by giving an overview of what had transpired.
“Of course, the major unknowns are: can the Bedouin guides get them to the right spot and will they make it in time?” he concluded and offered Christine the floor.
“I’m sure the guides can get them there,” Christine informed the group, “they were the ones who suggested the spot. The big unknown is at what time. As you know they have no regard for time up there and the route is murderous, but I’m confident Jack will push them.”
“From the spot you left them, how long did they figure it would take them?” Harley interjected.
“At the rate we were going, barring snake bites or injuries, roughly ten days.”
From the inquisitive looks on people’s faces she knew she must elaborate on the snakebite part, which she did in short detail.
“When I left, Ibrahim was doing much better,” she concluded, “so I guess he wouldn’t have held them up.”
“The Bedouin saved his life,” Natasha observed.
“It’s survival out there,” Harley was saying. “They mostly get by without hospitals.” He got up and took the floor, pointing a laser pointer at the map.
“Since we don’t have any new information,” he said eyeing the people around the table as if making sure, “we have to assume they’ll arrive on time, so we leave from here at 21:00 hours tomorrow night.” He pointed at the map to a spot on the border roughly twenty kilometers north west of Eilat.
“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.