Tracks

by Niv Kaplan

  The boy did not look up but he stopped scratching the asphalt.

  “Then where is my real mother?” he suddenly asked in perfect English, catching Sam off balance.

  “When they took you, they killed her,” he said straight out, not trying to soften the blow. “Her name was Michelle and I’ve got photos of her to show you.”

  The boy looked up at Sam for the first time with tears in his eyes. The sun had just come up in the east over the Mediterranean exposing the boy’s face, blinding him for a moment. He lowered his head again and sat on the asphalt, his back against the hangar’s wall.

  Sam took out the photos and sat next to him. The two of them just sat there, staring blankly ahead, not saying a word until the boy put out his hand and asked for the photos.

  *****

  Aziz drove the car like a madman over mini-craters and bumps of Beirut’s coastal highway, trying to put enough distance between them and whatever posse was sent after them.

  He, Devlin and Natasha had raced through the deserted city streets to where they had hidden the car. It was still there, waiting for them in the alley across from the football field the choppers had landed in. As he put the car into gear, half the Beirut sky lit up with flares, a sign they were not going to let the assault pass without retaliation. It was going to be a race to the finish and they were not sure where Rolston, Amar, and Mai-Li were.

  The plan had been to reach a beach 20 kilometers south of Beirut where Lizzy and Jimmy the Driver were headed with a speedboat, but the encounter had exposed them and no doubt measures would be taken by the organization’s supporters, mainly the Shiite-backed Hezbollah who controlled the area south of Beirut.

  Aziz hit the brakes hard, causing Devlin to almost crash through the windshield.

  “Up ahead,” he said, pointing, and Devlin could see car lights in the distance blocking the road.

  Aziz shut off the lights and turned the car around. He sped back towards Beirut then veered off after a few kilometers to a dirt road that climbed east up on a hill range. It was a rough road. He switched his lights back on but the car rocked and bumped into boulders grazing its bottom as Aziz kept his foot on the gas.

  It was turning light and they were nowhere near the rendezvous point.

  “We’ll have to ditch the car and hide for the day,” Aziz said. “We’ll never make it to the pickup point.”

  “The more time goes by, the harder it would be to get there,” Devlin pointed out.

  “It will be difficult at night but impossible during daytime. Best wait till tonight,” Aziz surmised.

  Devlin glanced back at Natasha. She sat there, her beautiful face alert, her blonde hair stiff with dust, her glistening eyes focused on him.

  “What do you think?” he asked her.

  “How do we hook up with Malcolm?” she asked.

  “We haven’t heard from them since the trouble began,” he said thoughtfully. “They may be there already...”

  “Or not...” Natasha suggested.

  Aziz braked hard again and Natasha almost landed in Devlin’s lap. Devlin was about to comment to Aziz on his driving when he saw the dirt road had ended on the edge of a cliff.

  Dawn was breaking as they hid the vehicle as best they could in a small gulley by the side of the road and took off toward a rocky hill that looked to have good hiding potential.

  As they climbed the hill they began to decipher where they were. The Mediterranean coast appeared far below to their right while the chopped rocky terrain of the ridge they had driven on appeared to their left displaying several scattered settlements whose lights were blinking in the distance.

  The sun was coming up fast and they each had to settle for cramped space between the rocks half the way up the hill.

  It was a good vantage point for two reasons. One, they could see the dirt road, their half hidden vehicle, and anyone approaching from that direction. Two, they could see the coastal highway far below well enough to monitor the traffic and any out of the ordinary movements.

  The down side of their position was that they were relatively exposed and vulnerable to anyone coming from the top of the hill. Both Devlin and Aziz had weapons and ammunition they took from dead people in the compound, but they had no binoculars and their only radio was all but useless.

  They settled in for the day, intending to take turns sleeping and watching for any suspicious movement coming their way but it wasn’t long before their car was discovered.

  A shepherd found it when two of his goats began eating the vegetation around the vehicle. He seemed very excited, rounding up his goats and ushering them quickly toward one of the villages.

  They had to make a quick decision. Dogs could easily track them and lead their pursuers to their position. But it was daytime and they could easily be seen by anyone who was looking for them. They decided to climb the rest of the way up the hill and consider their options.

  They did it quickly before the shepherd could come back with the troops. On the other side of the hill there was a forested saddle with two creeks flowing down its sides, west towards the coast and east toward the mainland. The western creek was somewhat bare so they took the creek flowing east which was well camouflaged with trees and vegetation. There was a narrow path along the center of the creek which allowed the threesome quick movement. After an hour they began to see signs of water as the ground became muddy and the vegetation greener and thicker. They found a water source and drank thirstily, realizing they’d had nothing to drink since the night before.

  “We need to head toward the coast if we want to make the rendezvous point tonight,” Devlin said to Aziz as they sat down to rest.

  “We’ll never make it on foot,” Aziz stated matter-of-factly. “We’ll need to try and get them to pick us up.”

  “And how will we do that?” Natasha demanded. “This radio is totally useless. Do you even know where we are?”

  “I do, more or less,” Aziz said. “There’s a village just east of here which historically has resisted the Hezbollah takeover. If we can make it there tonight, I might find someone who’ll help us call in a chopper or take us closer to the pickup point.”

  “Worth a shot,” Devlin remarked. “Do we have any other options?”

  “Not really,” Aziz said, “but we need to move out of here in case they find our tracks.”

  They continued on deeper down the creek. The path was still present but more difficult to follow. After another hour they reached an opening in the undergrowth. The creek widened into a rocky surface where the water gushed into a small pool then out the other side through a natural tunnel and on down the creek.

  It was getting warm and they all dipped their heads in the small pool and drank more.

  “Bath anyone?” Natasha said with a smile. The two men looked at each other then at the woman to see if she was serious. She laughed.

  “At any other time, maybe, this would be an ideal spot to take a break,” she dipped her head again and splashed some water on her neck and chest.

  Aziz looked around.

  “I think we should climb out of this creek to there,” he said, pointing to the steepest part of the gorge they were in. There was no visible path in the direction he was pointing and the wooded slope seemed impenetrable.

  “The village is that way,” Aziz added when he saw the looks on his partners’ faces. “If we stick to the creek, we’ll get nowhere.”

  They started climbing through the bush, the thorny underbrush scratching their bare hands and faces making it difficult to progress. Devlin led the way; Natasha was in the middle, her long figure slithering from branch to boulder. Aziz was right behind her, panting and sweating, not accustomed to long periods of physical exertion. Three hours later the village became visible, its outer perimeter built into the side of the gorge. Devlin halted, waiting for Aziz to reach him and catch his breath before pointing it out.

  “Is this the village?” he asked.

  Aziz, wiping the sweat off his face
and neck looked in the direction Devlin was pointing.

  “It could be. I can’t tell from here. We’ll need to climb higher,” he said and sat down heavily on a boulder that was sticking from the ground. Devlin looked up. He estimated they had climbed three quarters of the way but the difficult part remained in front of them. The terrain became steeper and the vegetation scarcer.

  He looked at his watch. Three thirty. It was getting late in the day. He looked at Natasha who was sitting on a large root that stuck into the air. She had taken her long sleeve shirt off, tied it around her waist and was left with a white undershirt, her white skin glistening with sweat.

  “Better put that on when we get moving, or you’ll end up hurting yourself,” Devlin suggested to her.

  She nodded but was too exhausted to move.

  They rested for half an hour, then continued on climbing.

  CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

  Sergeant Lizzy O’Leary stood erect on the boat, searching the coast for a sign. Any sign of danger.

  Jimmy the Driver was standing next to him handling the boat at maximum speed.

  It was not yet dawn and so far they had received partial reports of what evolved in Beirut. Copeland reported that Sam had finally met his son. That brought a loud cheer from veterans’ mouths as they slapped each other on the back. Then the hazy reports from the compound began to arrive. There were casualties. That was for sure. They did not receive the full account but they were experienced enough to tell when things had gone wrong.

  Their last contact with Copeland, a half hour ago, assured them their objective had not changed. There were assets waiting to be picked up. The rendezvous point was marked on a beach half the distance between Beirut and Sidon near a town known as Jiyeh. It was just the right point where the coastal highway was far enough from the coast and the area was more agricultural where there was less chance of military patrols or random civilians being present.

  Lizzy had the coordinates and was keeping an eye out on the boat’s compass as the boat jumped and rocked over the waves.

  Lights from the beach began to appear far in the distance and the Lebanon coast began taking shape. Jimmy slowed the boat down and made their approach carefully looking out for Lebanese military boat patrols.

  The agreed sign with Devlin and his team was an intermittent red light and Lizzy’s eyes were nearly out of their sockets looking for it.

  The map and aerial photos they had of the beach showed a small pier that stuck out into the water which was assumed to be deep enough for the boat to reach.

  Jimmy had the engine practically idle as the boat glided toward the pier, but no signal was seen yet.

  Then it appeared, from a point to the left of the pier. They could not mistake it. Intermittent red light.

  Lizzy nearly kissed his driver.

  Rolston appeared out of nowhere as the boat reached the pier. Behind him was Mai-Li and an Arab who was not familiar to them.

  “This is Amar,” Rolston said quickly as the three fugitives jumped into the boat. “Devlin’s not here yet. We’ve had no contact with him since Beirut.”

  “When did you speak to him last?” Lizzy inquired.

  “When we reached our launch position with the troop. They were on their way to the compound. After that, no contact.”

  Lizzy suddenly realized Rolston and his team had no idea what happened.

  “They took it pretty bad there,” he told them. “Copeland reported casualties but nothing about Devlin and Natasha who he said were supposed to be waiting here.”

  Jimmy corrected him. “He said there were assets waiting. He didn’t say who. He must’ve meant only you guys!”

  There was a moment of silence. Lizzy looked at his watch. “We’ve got half an hour till dawn. We can’t be caught here in the light. So let’s wait fifteen then split.”

  “Mike’s orders were to be back here at the same time tomorrow if we don’t make it today,” Mai-Li said quietly.

  “We’ll be back here,” Lizzy insisted, “unless they show up in the next ten minutes.”

  *****

  Kessler arrived in Larnaca on the first flight he could find from Athens once he knew Sam’s boy was rescued. He left his human cargo with the two operatives as escort instructing them not to dare miss the El Al flight to Israel.

  Elena came with him.

  Harry Fleming and Doug Collins were waiting for them at the gate with an airport official who led them down the gate stairs to the tarmac where a gray Jeep was waiting to take them to a secluded area where the troops had gathered.

  The place was buzzing with activity. A field hospital was set up in a hangar next to some parked Cyprus Air planes and the first thing he noticed when he came in were the six body bags arranged on the floor next to the makeshift triage where three people in white aprons, head-covers, and rubber gloves were hovering over a wounded person.

  “Where’s Sam?” Elena was asking, then she saw him sitting on a bench in a far corner with the three boys who had just been rescued. They were deep in conversation when she approached, noticing Sam holding one boy’s hand.

  She stood above them and they simultaneously turned their heads to her. She immediately noticed the striking resemblance of the boy to Sam.

  She smiled but said nothing, studying their faces. Sam smiled back, got up and hugged her, then introduced her.

  Sammy Jr., or Amir, held out his hand and she shook it gently. His face was serious, and more than a little confused. The two other boys, known as Zaidan and Kareem, looked bewildered. They were introduced and Sam informed her that Sammy had agreed to be called by his American name from now on.

  “We’ve photographed Zaidan and Kareem and sent the photos via the American consulate here to the FBI. Hopefully we’ll have them identified soon.”

  “I am sharing with them everything we know so far,” Sam said, looking expectantly at his boy. The three boys nodded but said nothing.

  “Why don’t you join us?” Sam said, making room for her on the bench.

  “I will, as soon as I finish up with Kessler. He asked me to assist him with translations.”

  “Is he here?” Sam queried. “I need to see him too.”

  “Yeah, right over there,” Elena said, pointing to where Kessler was conferring with Fleming, Collins, the Seal commander Lennon and the Israeli commander, Dori. “We just arrived from Athens.”

  “Any word from the guys?” Sam asked.

  “I’ll find out,” she said and hugged him again, kissing him on the cheek. “This is unbelievable! You, together with your son!”

  Sam gave her an embarrassed smile and put his hand around Sammy’s shoulders. Sammy did not return the gesture but did not move away either.

  “This is a nightmare!” Fleming was saying, looking around at the six body-bags and the wounded commandos being treated by medical personnel.

  “What happened over there?” he pressed, looking at Lennon and Sergeant Boone who were still in their camouflage outfits, their faces dark with soot and their eyes red from lack of sleep.

  Israeli Special Forces and the unharmed British SAS and US Navy Seals were sprawled around the hangar, trying to get some rest.

  “They were alerted just as we reached the end of the main corridor near the communications hub,” Lennon explained. “We lost the element of surprise and when we attacked they were ready.”

  Both Collins and Fleming perked up.

  “Why did you attack if you were discovered?” Collins queried.

  “We had no choice. We were trapped. They sent a force along the corridor which bypassed us when we hid in adjacent rooms and there was nowhere to retreat. Had we not attacked, we would never have gotten out of there. They would have brought in more troops and that would have been the end of us! The guys fought a heroic battle! It could have ended up much worse.”

  “We’ll need to brief everyone all the way up the chain,” Fleming commented.

  Lennon nodded. “And the families,” he added, tur
ning his head to look at the bodies.

  One of the doctors came over. He spoke Greek and Elena translated.

  “We’ve managed to stabilize all five wounded,” he said. “We removed shrapnel and bullets from two with head wounds, one back wound, and two arm wounds,” he reported.

  Lennon nodded again.

  “Yeah that would make sense,” he said quietly. “We took a grenade and the Brits were shot at from the computer room. Two guys caught bullets and one was wounded from another grenade when we trapped them in the corridor and they retreated through the tunnel.”

  Fleming motioned for Kessler and Collins to step aside.

  “There’ll be hell to pay for this you know.”

  “We got the kids out,” Kessler said. “That should count for something.”

  “Yes, but we got nothing from the compound except for six dead commandos. We didn’t get to the safe or the communication room and this means we have no trail, not to mention the political flack we’ll have to face for this.”

  The three stood quietly for a while contemplating what to do next.

  “We’ll need to evacuate the dead and the wounded,” Collins finally said. “I can get a C-130 from Turkey.”

  “You do that,” Fleming said, “and have it stop in London while you’re at it.” Then he continued to rave. “Surely the Lebanese government will appeal to the UN and who knows where else?”

  Kessler was watching Elena approaching Sam and the boys who were huddled on a bench in a remote corner of the hangar.

  “We got the three boys and the woman,” he began thinking out loud, “and we got Rafik and his wife. We might be able to piece something from that.”

  “I doubt the boys will be of any help,” Fleming retorted, “and the woman probably knows not much more…”

  “That’s not totally true. I learned a few things from Rafik and Nyla yesterday which can set us in the right direction. The boys over there might be useful giving us descriptions and Arab names of anyone who they met at the compound.”