by Roger Weston
“He caught a plane to Algiers.”
Abu Bakr’s lip curled as he fingered the cleft on his forehead. “Marwan and the girl are with him?”
Otto winced. “Marwan is. We don’t know what happened to the woman.”
“What?” Abu Bakr stepped closer to Otto.
“She took a cab to the airport, but didn’t get on the flight to Algiers. We saw her getting on a helicopter with two men.”
“Where is she headed? Tell me you got the flight plan?”
“Of course. The helicopter is scheduled to land in Timbuktu in an hour.”
Abu Bakr hissed. “They must be Dailai’s men. Damn her.”
“Who’s that?
“Forget it. Your business is Eric Smith. Get to Algiers and hunt him down. I want him alive. Eric Smith is going to regret he ever returned to Africa.”
“There’s one more thing.”
“The only thing I want you to worry about is Eric Smith.”
“Another American was following our quarry.”
“Another American? Who?”
“The guy from Mexico said this man was tracking Eric and the girl. He was after the $20 million.”
Abu Bakr writhed with pleasure. “I need answers. Who is this man? Get me answers.”
Otto started to respond, but Abu Bakr cut him off. “Interrogate him immediately. Leave a report at the safe house along with the prisoner. Then get on Eric Smith’s tail. I’ll take over with the prisoner when I get there.”
Otto nodded.
“My niece should’ve married better,” Abu Bakr said, “but you've proven your loyalty to me. The day you fail to prove it, will be your last.”
“You have nothing to worry about,” Otto said.
Abu Bakr pointed toward the exit.
CHAPTER 24
Otto entered the room and forced a smile as he looked into Devin’s gray hawk eyes. He sat down in an uncomfortable, metal-framed chair. He guessed by Devin’s gold rings and expensive-looking suede jacket that the man had some money. Otto looked around the soundproof interrogation room in the safe house. There was nothing unusual about the look of the room except for the padding on the walls. Otto sat down at the table, but felt too much tension, so stood up again. He smoothed the material of his checkered head-cloth with his bony hand. He eyed the gold rings on Devin's fingers as the man gently touched the bruise on his forehead and ran his hands through his brown hair.
“I'm sure you've noticed that I walk with a limp,” Otto said.
Devin nodded with barely-concealed satisfaction. He fidgeted in his chair and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
“I was not born this way, nor did it happen in any accident.”
“You know,” Devin said, “I don't want to listen to your whining about your personal problems. I've got a few of my own. Why don't you let me go first, and then I'll be more open to hearing about your troubles.”
“You have more problems than you know,” Otto said. “I limp because last year I was tortured daily during six months of interrogations by Sheikh Saleh. He will be here any minute to begin questioning you.”
Devin stiffened momentarily. “What do you think I'm gonna tell you anyway? Are you people inbred morons? What do you want?”
“The sheikh will make that clear to you. I'll be honest with you. I hate him. If I could, I'd cut his throat. But I'm stuck with him just as surely as I'm stuck with this limp.”
“What's he gonna do to me?”
“He's a cruel man.”
Devin squirmed in his chair. “You've got the wrong person!”
“The sheikh will determine that.”
“Oh, that's great.”
“Maybe I can help you.”
Devin leaned forward, then sat back. “Alright, alright, I'll listen.”
“Let me have your gold rings,” Otto said, eyeing his fingers. “Then I will try to keep the sheikh under control.”
Devin flashed his gray hawk eyes at Otto. “I might have guessed. You're petty thieves. Why didn’t you try and take them from me in the daylight without your guns? Haven't you got the guts? You have no idea how much scum like you I've seen in my life.”
Otto walked around the table and pushed his gun barrel against Devin's temple. “Give me the rings.”
Devin gave him a look of contempt. He pulled off his rings and threw them on the floor. “Why don't you get yourself a new robe and a shower. You stink worse than a wet dog.”
Otto went after the rings. “Yeah, pick those off the floor, why don't you. When you’re done, maybe I'll let you shine my shoes with your tongue for a nickel.”
Otto watched Sheikh Saleh as the man entered the room.
“What are you doing on the floor?”
Otto stood up. “Dropped some coins,” Otto said. “He's cooperative.”
Sheikh Saleh made prolonged eye contact with Otto and gave him a knowing smile. Otto could feel heat and sweat under his arms. He didn't smile back or reveal any emotion at all. Devin shifted in his chair, and his fingernails slowly scratched the tabletop.
The sheikh turned and smiled at Devin. “Nervous? All I want to do is ask you some questions.”
Devin nodded and made a weak effort to smile. He got out his handkerchief and wiped his nose, then shoved it back into his pocket.
“After all,” the sheikh said, “you were following the American couple. That much is obvious. Why?” The sheikh sat down across the table from Devin.
Otto sat at the end of the table.
“Who do you think you are?” Devin said, glaring contemptuously.
Sheikh Saleh glanced at Otto as if gravely disappointed. “I thought you said he was cooperating.” The sheikh stood up. “We’ll do this the hard way then.”
Devin drummed his fingers on the table, then leaned forward. “Alright, look, hey, no problem, alright? I'll answer your questions. But I have a right to know who you are and why I'm here.”
Sheikh Saleh stared at him slack-faced. “Alright?”
“Yeah, you heard me.” Devin looked away.
Sheikh Saleh's face showed disappointment. He sat down. “Relax, my friend. I just need some answers. This will be easy.”
Devin nodded and made an expression as though he'd heard it a hundred times
before.
“Just ask your questions,” Devin said while rapidly tapping the leg of his chair.
Sheikh Saleh gave Otto a cold look, then spoke to Devin with tenderness as if he was addressing a child. “I need to know why you were following Eric Smith and the woman.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Yes, you do. What were you looking for in their hotel room?”
Devin nodded, raising his open palms. “Yes, you're right, okay, I admit I was following them.”
Sheikh Saleh nodded giving Devin permission to continue. Otto flinched with disgust. He had seen that little gesture so many times. Right then he was tempted to strangle Sheikh Saleh.
“I recognized the girl,” Devin said. “The last time I saw her, she was with that guy, and he ripped me off. I was just trying to take back what was mine.”
“And what was that?”
Devin shrugged. “Money, what else?”
Otto sighed. The lie wasn't convincing.
“What are you trying to hide?” Sheikh Saleh said.
Devin gestured with his hands. “Look, I'm telling you the truth. The guy pick-pocketed me in a Spanish disco.”
“I don’t believe you,” the sheikh said. “Why are you really in Morocco?”
“I was traveling in Europe and decided to come down here to see what it's like.”
“I was hoping we could get this over with quickly,” Sheikh Saleh said.
“Look, man, I don't even know who you are. I came down here on vacation and you people grab me.” Devin stood up. “I've answered your questions, now I’m leaving.”
“Sit down,” Sheikh Saleh said. “I'll let you go when I’m ready.”
Devin sat down.
“Who is the girl?”
Devin squared his shoulders and leaned forward with confidence. “Alright, I thought she was a girl I dated once.”
The sheikh frowned. “And why were you following her?”
“I already told you that.”
“I want the truth.”
“I’m not traveling alone, you know. By now the police are surely looking for me.”
The sheikh smiled. “I'm not a person you want to lie to.”
Devin glanced over at Otto, then said, “Alright, look, I’ll tell you the whole truth. The girl is my daughter. She's dating a scumbag who's involved in drugs. I think he's dealing. I'm following them because I think he's gonna ruin her life, and I want proof of what this guy's up to. I'm almost sure they've come to Morocco to buy drugs. Maybe I'm wrong, but that's what I think is going on.”
Otto cringed. This guy was not only a bad liar, but he had no idea what a sadist like Sheikh Saleh would do to him. Depending how things went, he might yet profit more from this fool, maybe drain an account. Otto said, “He’s nervous. Be patient with him.”
Sheikh Saleh reached into his pocket and removed a pouch formed with folded paper. “How stupid do you think I am? We found this in your bag.”
Devin's facial muscles sagged. His shoulders sank. He looked away and avoided eye contact. Then suddenly he sat up straighter and looked back at the sheikh. “For shaving and such.”
“I’m beginning to lose my patience with you.”
A desperate tone entered Devin’s voice. “I haven't lied. I've told you who she is.”
Sheikh Saleh unfolded the paper and spread it out on the table, revealing a flattened straw, a razor and a small mirror. “I see you've run out of cocaine. But you still took a great risk smuggling paraphernalia into the country. Only an addict would do something so foolish.”
Devin hissed in mockery, waving his hand as if to show his contempt.
“You must be suffering from withdrawal symptoms,” the sheikh said.
“Last year my daughter and the creep she's seeing borrowed that handbag. He must have hidden that in the liner and forgotten about it.”
Sheikh Saleh reached into his pocket and pulled out another small packet made from folded paper. He looked at Devin and smiled.
Devin shrugged. “Never seen that before either.”
“This time I believe you, because I just purchased this.” He slowly unfolded the paper revealing a pile of at least four grams of cocaine and set it on the table.
Otto watched Devin's neck muscles flex as he swallowed. He began rocking back and forth on his hands. He avoided looking at the cocaine.
“I'll bet you would like some of this, wouldn't you?” Sheikh Saleh said.
Devin's chest rose as he sighed. The tight wrinkles in his forehead revealed an internal struggle. “Why would I want that crap?”
Sheikh Saleh shrugged. “Oh. I guess I was mistaken. So I will get rid of it then. I'll just blow it off the table.” He leaned down and inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air to blow the cocaine off the table, but then he sat up again. “Are you sure you want me to do this? I don't have any more.”
“Go ahead,” Devin said, speaking through clenched teeth.
Again Sheikh Saleh leaned down and inhaled deeply. He pursed his lips to blow the coke into a cloud of dust.
“Just a minute,” Devin said, shaking his exposed palms at Sheikh Saleh. “Hold on alright? Just settle down. Don't do anything yet. Okay, alright, I admit I haven't been completely straight with you.”
Sheikh Saleh grinned with self satisfaction. “Are you ready to talk now?”
“Yeah, I'll level with you, okay. Just give me some of that first.” He reached for the straw, but the sheikh grabbed his hand and pushed it to the table.
“First tell me about the $20 million dollars.”
Devin stared at the sheikh for a moment, and Otto could tell he was genuinely surprised.
“Who are you people?” Devin said.
“We have no hard feelings toward you,” the sheikh said. “Juan Candelario told us you stole his money. Where is it?”
“Look, man that was a long time ago. The money’s gone.”
The sheikh shook his head negatively. “Juan wouldn’t be hunting for you if that were true.”
Devin blinked in nervousness.
“Relax,” the sheikh said. “Juan Candelario is dead. Unless you want to join him, you better hurry up.”
Devin nodded. “Alright, alright. The girl and her man have the money. I lied about the pickpocket, but I told the truth that they have the dough. Why do you think I was following them? I swear they have it, but if you’ll let me go, I’ll get it for you. I’d rather turn it over to you than die.”
“If we bring you with us and find out you’re lying, you will be disposed of in a pitiless way.”
Devin shrugged. “I’ve got nothing to worry about.” He eyed the cocaine. “Now what about that?”
CHAPTER 25
Algiers, Algeria
The airport in Algiers bustled with activity. The majority of the crowd appeared to be Middle Eastern businessmen dressed in western clothing. A few casually dressed travelers anxious to catch their flights blended in among them. Three women in white robes sat on a line of seats that bordered the large-tiled hall. A sports team in green sweats swept past Paul. As they did Paul saw two men bearing in on him from thirty yards away. He figured they were plain-clothes airport security guards, coming to check him out. But then he noticed the stress on the men’s faces, and the way that they looked around. It was apparent they were looking out for security themselves.
Paul put his hand on Marwan’s shoulder and started walking.
“What is it?” Marwan said.
“Just keep walking.”
“What’s going on?”
“Do what I tell you. Got it? We’re being followed.” Weaving through the throng of travelers, Paul looked back. The men were still following them. He headed for the exit; he didn’t know what he was going to do when he got outside, but he felt trapped in the heavily-guarded airport.
“By who?” Marwan said.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“If violence breaks out in the airport,” Marwan said, “they’ll claim we’re terrorists.”
Paul thought that was a strange comment, but wasn’t planning on testing the theory. He walked quickly, bumping into anyone who got in his way. When he looked back he noticed their pursuers were keeping their distance, hands in pockets.
If this was America, he’d have headed for the metal detectors knowing that the armed men couldn’t get by them, but something told him that he’d regret it here. He remembered the terrorist threats at the Tetouan airport that prohibited him from getting a flight out of there. He knew that the men following him were probably Abu Bakr’s men--men who had no problem gunning down innocent people. The fact that he was still alive verified that they wanted him alive, but he realized they were capable of anything, and consequences couldn’t be factored in as a deterrent.
As they walked out of the well-lit terminal into the darkness, Paul’s pulse pounded in his ears. He saw his opportunity when a man opened the door of a cab and got out. He pushed Marwan. “Go.”
They ran toward the cab and jumped in. Paul spat out orders to the obese cabby as he slammed his door. One of the men tried to open the door, then pounded on the window. The other man jumped in front of the cab and gestured to the cabby not to go. While Marwan locked his door, Paul shouted at the cabby to drive. The cabby edged the car forward, pushing back the man in front of the car. This angered the man who drew his gun. Paul shouted at the cabby to keep going. The driver obeyed Paul; his plump fingers paled at the knuckles as he clung tightly to the steering wheel as he floored the gas pedal.
Paul saw the thug’s back hit and crack the windshield and he heard the man’s gun slide across the car’s roof. The tires of the cabby screeched as the man hit the ground. Pa
ul sank down in his seat in anticipation of the other guy opening fire on the cab, but that didn’t happen. When Paul looked back, he saw the second man pick up the first man’s gun and flee the area, leaving his wounded partner behind.
“Slow down,” Paul said. “They’re gone.”
“Who are you?” the driver shrieked. He reached under his seat and held out a canister of pepper spray. “Get out. Get out!”
Paul pulled a handful of cash from his pocket and handed the driver a four hundred dollars. “That will cover your window. Keep the extra.”
The man snatched the cash and pocketed it.
“Take us to the edge of town,” Paul replied. “Now!”
“No.” The man said as he pointed the pepper spray at Paul. “You get out of my cab.”
Paul frowned and shook his head. “You just did a hit and run. The police don’t like that. Give us a ride and we’ll forget about you and you forget about us. Got it?”
The man drove them to the edge of the desert. After the cabby was out of sight, Paul and Marwan walked back into town.
Looking around the seedy medina, Paul zipped up an open pocket on his backpack, and heaved the load onto his back. They would leave this hell-hole first thing in the morning, he thought to himself.
“There’s a hotel over there,” Paul said.
“We must camp in the desert.” Marwan said. “It is not safe here.”
Paul agreed but knew that he needed to recharge his laptop before they set out across the desert. “Tonight we stay in a hotel.”
“No,” Marwan insisted. “We must camp in the desert.”
“Not tonight. In the morning we’ll board the bus to Ghardaia, from there we will camp our way across the Sahara until we get to Timbuktu.”
“I will not stay here tonight. It is not safe.”
“I said, were staying in town tonight.”
Marwan cursed under his breath, but continued to follow Paul to a dingy hotel.
After climbing a flight of stairs, they unlocked the door to a tiny room. The next morning they boarded the bus for Ghardaia.
Ten hours later the bus limped into the hilly town.