by Niv Kaplan
“Joe agreed to take a miniature camcorder with us so we don’t rely on the Indians for proof,” Devlin was saying, spreading jam across his scone.
They were huddled in a corner table by a large glass window overlooking the loch.
“If the operation goes as planned, we might not have enough light for good video,” Mai-Li commented.
“I doubt we’ll complete it before day break,” Devlin observed. “We may even have to stick around there an extra day before we can return if we want to avoid moving in daylight.”
It was an unlikely scenario and Devlin noticed their confusion.
“We’ve established a fallback point, a retreat we’ll probably go to and wait until dark. It’s roughly two clicks south of the camp still in the jungle.”
“How long do you figure you need to get back?” Ali asked.
“Should take us most of the night to get there and back but the children might slow us down if we take them with us.”
A heavy-set waitress came to check up on them and the discussion was interrupted. Devlin decided he wanted more solid food and asked for the menu. He ordered beef with mashed potatoes and beer. The women settled for ham and cheese sandwiches with red wine.
They arrived back at the farm in the dark having spent the entire day around the famous loch. Mai-Li retreated to her room. Devlin spent the night with Ali.
They left early the next morning, managing a quick breakfast Beth insisted on preparing. All packed, they thanked Ali’s parents with hugs all around and heartfelt goodbyes and drove to the airstrip on their way to London Heathrow.
Reluctant to fold her sky-bed into a sitting position, Mai-Li watched the airplane hover over the flatlands of Thailand on final approach to Bangkok. She could see the long straight roadways and water channels, the lush vegetation, rows of housing and decorated temples. A flight attendant came by to fold her seat to landing position and remind her to strap on her seatbelt.
She had the window seat facing the back of the plane while Ali had the aisle, facing front. They had enjoyed the hospitality, wine and food served on the twelve hour flight, and spent most of it sleeping.
Disembarking, the intense South East Asian heat and humidity reminded them they were not in Scotland anymore though the air-conditioned terminal was a relief.
They walked the length of the huge terminal among crowds of tourists, back-packers, and business people, glimpsing some of the sights and smells of Thailand. Among the usual duty free shops were foot-massage parlors, packed orchids, and exotic food stands. When they had had enough, they settled back at the Thai Air lounge to wait for their flight to New Delhi.
*****
Jose Louis Ortega’s funeral took place at Chinchon, his hometown, a picturesque little village with stone buildings an hour south of Madrid. Famous for its olive oil, Chinchon also had a winery coupled with busy meat restaurants frequented by people from as far as Madrid and Toledo. The village square was a festive circle with a town hall, a church and a post office, surrounded by bars and coffee shops.
The procession moved slowly, making its way from the church along the main street towards the outskirts of town where the cemetery lay.
It seemed the entire town was there.
Fernando Ortega, his wife and two teenage boys were in the front assisting the tearful elderly parents, who were straggling along behind the black limousine carrying their son’s coffin. The boulevard was full with onlookers, solemnly standing on doorsteps, watching the gloomy parade. The cemetery was on a hill overlooking the vast basin, a mix of cultivated squares, golden-brown and green farm land.
A few olive trees and a wooden fence marked the perimeter where the gravestones were symmetrically arranged in rows. Sam watched the grieving family as the priest and other dignitaries said final few words before El Chino was lowered to the ground.
There was not much said between himself and Fernando Ortega on the trip over. Sam knew that in Fernando’s eyes he would forever be responsible for his brother’s fate. Fernando was courteous enough though and did ask Sam to stop by after the funeral.
Ortega was the first and only colleague Sam had ever lost in his quest in support of missing children. He realized early on that risks would be involved, even ones that could put them in danger and they had attempted to prepare as best they could.
His mistake was sending Ortega on his own into a potentially hostile situation. The indications were there yet he chose to ignore them. He had all sorts of excuses: urgency, personnel shortage, and lack of resources were the major ones, yet none stuck as he watched the village mourn over a lost son, the women in tears, the men in shock. Later, in the Ortega family home, they tearfully complained to him that rarely, in Chinchon as in most places in Spain, had parents had to bury their child. It was usually the other way around.
As they slowly proceeded back toward the town, he felt a hand seize his shoulder. A tall man with a moustache gently stopped him. Buttoning his jacket and arranging his tie, he introduced himself as Jose Rio, who the Center had been involved with trying to locate his lost boy, Carlos.
They shook hands and moved away from the crowd to talk. Jose Rio inquired and Sam briefly sketched what had happened to Ortega, leaving out most pertinent details. He could not reveal the full story to these people, not with the gag order that had been established and Jack a prisoner, awaiting trial.
“I have found my boy,” Jose Rio said with a heavy Spanish accent, unable to hold back a smile despite the dismal circumstances. Now it was Sam’s turn to be surprised.
“Louisa showed up with him one day. He wants to live with me,” Rio said proudly.
“That’s fantastic!” Sam whispered, clutching Rio’s hand excitedly. “When did this happen?”
“I was in Palma when you and…” Rio stopped and crossed himself before continuing on. “You and Jose Louis, God bless his soul, lost their tracks in Madrid.”
“Go on,” Sam urged, listening intently.
“Jose Louis,” Rio crossed himself again, “called me to let me know. A day after I came back, Louisa and Carlos show up at my doorstep! Louisa admitted she had hidden him but could not deal with him wanting to see me, so she changed her mind and brought him over.”
“Why did she hide him from you?”
“She said she was afraid he would want to stay only with me. She was so afraid of losing him she panicked. But eventually she realized that she had made him only more miserable.”
“So what happens now?”
“The boy needs a father and a mother so I’ve forgiven her for this and we agreed to spend time with him equally, except of course when I travel.”
“This is the best news I’ve had all year!” Sam exclaimed. “It makes up for whole lot of grief.”
“I want to thank you for your support,” Rio said simply. “Now it’s my turn. I will help the Ortegas.”
Sam nodded and embraced Jose Rio warmly then they both proceeded towards the Ortega residence.
When Sam returned to Hotel Cuzco in Madrid, he had a message waiting from Elena on behalf of David Kessler.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
Harley had the Indian security services check thoroughly for bugs before calling a meeting in his room.
He had waited an extra day to make sure everyone had arrived safely. It proved valuable for the few whose flights were delayed into Delhi.
All twenty-one people easily fit in the huge suite Harley had secured. It had a living room, two bathrooms, a study, a dining room, and two bedrooms.
“We leave for Kathua tomorrow,” he declared as everyone convened. “Long-John, you guys all set up?”
“A few minor issues we should settle tonight,” Long-John informed the crew curtly. He and Copeland had spent the last three days meeting with Indian Special Forces securing the needed equipment.
“How do we get it up there?” Harley inquired.
“They’ll ship it up there for us on a cargo plane. John and I are invited to escort it,” Copelan
d pitched in.
“Well, you certainly do that. The rest of us fly Jet Airways,” Harley acknowledged. “Where do we meet up with the equipment?”
“The military airfield is adjacent to the civilian one in Kathua. We’ll arrange to bring you there,” Long-John informed him.
“That is fine by me,” Harley accepted. “See if you can arrange a hangar we can use to pitch camp there.”
“There are barracks in the Army base they’ve offered us,” Copeland advised. “They’ll take us up to the border in trucks from there.”
“Splendid!” Harley exclaimed. “Then this meeting is over. You all make sure you’ve got the airline tickets,” he said and moved to have a quiet word with Devlin and Rolston. The team relaxed and went into small talk mode then began drifting out primarily to look for food, making sure they remained either alone or with their traveling companion, unattached to the rest of the team.
Ali pulled Mai-Li out to the street. It was early evening, the sun just converging with the horizon.
The intense humid air was almost unbearable.
“Let’s eat out,” Ali suggested, threading her way among the vendors and beggars sprawled about on the narrow path. In the mayhem outside the hotel the humid air was filled with scents, a mix of spices, sweat and stench of the sewer flowing openly on the street. Cars were honking, vendors were offloading products from wagons tied to bulls, sacred cows were roaming around free and scooter bikes were nimbly making their way around obstacles.
Ali stopped at one of many food stands to taste a reptilian-looking creature cooked the color of orange.
Mai-Li caught her arm before she could toss it in her mouth.
“I wouldn’t do it if I were you,” she warned. “Not unless you are prepared to spend the rest of our tour in the toilet or worse in a hospital.”
“I’ve had these things before,” Ali objected. “They’re pretty good.”
“If we were here trekking, then I guess you can risk it, but at this point we need to stay healthy.”
The small Indian vendor was following the discussion with interest. Realizing he might lose a customer, he began urging Ali to taste his food with hand signs. Ali was now hesitating.
“Let’s eat at the hotel,” Mai-Li suggested, still holding on to Ali’s arm. “Food poisoning is no laughing matter. Our systems need time to adjust to the food here.”
Ali dropped the meat back on the stand but handed the vendor a few rupees for his trouble. Fighting off a flock of beggars, they headed back to eat at the hotel.
Two members of the crew, Gavin Willard and Carey Clark, both in Rolston’s backup team, did catch food poisoning and were forced to remain in Delhi while the rest made their way up to Kathua in various Jet Airways flights the next day. Long-John and Copeland made it up first with the cargo plane and were supervising the transport of the men in small groups from the domestic terminal to the adjacent military base.
Ali and Mai-Li checked in to the local Sheraton to meet up with the media and nervously await the outcome of the mission.
*****
Natasha flew to Washington DC to meet with George Metzger and Annie Green to report on the latest developments and ask for more money. Sam had called from Spain, on his way back to Israel, asking her to perform the uncomfortable task, which was normally his prerogative. She took the US Air shuttle from La Guardia and was at the selected Georgetown Café at the designated lunch hour.
The two major Center sponsors were ten minutes late. Natasha knew them both, having met them at various functions over the years but had never been directly involved with them on business matters. Now it was up to her to convince them to further spend a large sum of money to free Jack and report on the mishaps in the Sinai.
Annie Green was a plump fifty-five year old, petite in size, quite dynamic and animated. She wore a dark business suit with pants and her look conveyed kindness. Her skin was satin white; her pretty face was softly made-up with contrasting bright-red lipstick.
Big George Metzger looked dull next to her.
They ordered sandwiches and red wine for lunch. The café was known for its sandwich menu and prompt service.
“Tell us all about it,” Annie said unceremoniously, as Metzger poured Cabernet Sauvignon in their glasses.
“It’s pretty dismal,” Natasha said, putting a dampener on the proceedings.
“We can handle it, dear,” Annie said. “We’ve been there before.”
“You know about Clair - the French mother who got herself in trouble trying to get her son back from the Sinai.”
Metzger and Annie nodded.
“Sam briefed me about it,” Metzger said, “before he sent Ortega.”
“Well, Ortega went looking for Chris and Jack in Dahab where Clair and the boy were held,” Natasha went on. “Chris and Jack managed to free Clair but then decided to take the boy as well. They fled to the mountains with the Egyptians in pursuit. Meanwhile, Ortega showed up in Dahab unaware of what transpired and the local police and the judge wanted to pin the matter on him. When he tried to escape, they shot and killed him.”
“Shocking,” Annie murmured, Metzger shook his head in disgust. Natasha had their sympathy.
“They obviously tried to cover it up but after stiff negotiations between ambassadors agreed to release the body in return for total immunity and a media gag order."
Natasha fell silent for a second looking sideways, checking her flanks.
“No one will be charged for Ortega’s murder,” she stated gloomily.
The waiter came by with the food and the discussion was ceased while they each organized their bulky sandwiches on the plates.
“Please go on,” Annie said, cutting her vegetarian sandwich into small, edible pieces. Natasha did the same.
“Sam attended Ortega’s funeral near Madrid yesterday and is now heading back to Israel,” she continued. “Christine managed to slip through to Eilat and Harley sprung Clair and the boy but Jack was caught. He apparently injured himself up in the Sinai Mountains and the Egyptians caught him. Now he will be tried.”
“Tried for what? Where?” Annie asked, exasperated.
“Our guess they will charge him with kidnapping Clair’s boy and probably find other things to pin on him. They were trying to blackmail us into paying them big money for Clair and the boy. Jack stole the pot and now they’ll seek revenge. He doesn’t stand a chance in court.”
“What proof will they have if the boy is gone?” Metzger asked bluntly.
“These people have their own justice system over there, Sir. They’ll find their proof.”
“Then I guess I’ll need to make some phone calls,” Metzger sighed, addressing Annie.
“We don’t believe there’s time for diplomacy,” Natasha pointed out. “We believe he will be brought to trial in a matter of days. The Egyptians want to make sure their plans are not sabotaged.”
“How do you know that?” Annie asked.
“Our Israeli contact alerted Sam. It’s why he’s hurrying back over there. This guy is extremely reliable. He assisted us getting Chris out and Clair and her boy.”
“You said Jack doesn’t stand a chance in court,” Metzger observed. “Where does he stand a chance?”
Natasha checked her flanks again then lowered her voice.
“We believe we can get Harley to snatch him out before the trial.”
“Out of an Egyptian prison?” Annie mused.
“Not quite, but I don’t have all the details,” Natasha said. She was beginning to wonder whether to discuss with them her Romanian affair as well.
“So what will it take?” Metzger asked after a pause.
“A half a million dollars,” Natasha stated nervously.
Annie and Metzger exchanged glances.
“Is it for bribes?” Annie asked.
“Possibly, I don’t know. Sam won’t talk about it over the phone. I doubt he’ll know the full plan before he gets back to Eilat.”
“Is it for Harl
ey?” Metzger inquired.
“Some of it is, I’m sure.”
“Where is he, by the way?” Annie asked.
“About to enter Kashmir,” Natasha lowered her voice to a whisper. “The mission is planned for tomorrow.”
The waiter returned to offer desserts. They all declined the sweet stuff but ordered coffees. Natasha waited silently for the verdict.
“Well, we can’t leave Jack to rot out there, can we?” Annie sighed, looking mischievously at Metzger, reaching for her purse. She pulled out a checkbook and wrote a check payable to the Center for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, signed it, and handed it to Natasha.
Natasha looked at her astonished.
“Just like that?” she marveled.
“Just like that,” Annie replied then added, “Look dear, we can sit here and second guess you or we could support you when times get tough. It’s a rough profession you’re in and mistakes are costly but humans make them. You can’t anticipate everything and this one backfired. I trust you’ll only be more careful the next time. Meanwhile, I’m not here to judge you. I need to trust you and I can either back your actions or use my money elsewhere. In my book there’s nothing more worthwhile than what you’re doing and giving you this money proves my trust.”
Metzger nodded in agreement and said he would wire his half as soon as he got back to his office.
“Damn shame about Ortega,” he remarked once again as they got up to leave and he bent to sign the lunch bill. “Did he leave anyone behind?”
“Elderly parents and a brother,” Natasha said clutching her own handbag. In awe of their generosity and trust, she was acutely aware of the hefty check she had slipped in there. Never before had she handled such a large sum of money on a single piece of paper. Afraid she would lose it, she wondered how often had Annie handed out such checks.
“We’ll need to pay them a visit,” Annie said.
“Indeed,” Metzger said as he led the women out the café’s swing doors.
Natasha thanked them earnestly as she stepped into a waiting cab that was to take her to the airport, thinking that additional funding for the Romanian affair would have to be put on hold.