Finally, he sighed and said, “He also acts like an arms broker of sorts. He tries to learn who is buying and selling guns and other weaponry. They’re particularly worried about short-range missiles—you know, SAMs, or surface-to-air missiles—the kind that can be used to shoot down airplanes. I’m not sure what else is involved, but Ben’s been at it for almost three years now. The drinking, the smuggling, the women—that’s all a ruse.”
Leslie nodded and smiled slightly, but the smile was rueful. “I figured out that part.” She looked puzzled then. “But I thought he was kicked out of the air force. Was that real?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t part of what he shared.”
Neither of them spoke for a while. Finally, Leslie asked, “So do you think those guys were marines?”
“That would be my guess. Either that or CIA...or maybe both. I’m not sure.”
Leslie frowned. Concern and fear were interspersed with a growing sense of relief that Ben’s activities were honorable. As she considered all that Paul told her, her emotion grew into pride and even awe. Regret quickly followed. She had doubted him. She wished she could tell him she was sorry. “I wonder where they took him.”
Paul shook his head. “Leslie, I have no idea. Why don’t we wait a day or two, and then we can go to Nairobi to try to find out where he is.”
Leslie nodded, grateful for the suggestion. She was anxious to find out news about Ben, but she didn’t want to be alone in case the news was bad. Besides, she knew Paul would probably be more successful in getting information from reluctant bureaucrats, military officials or intelligence agencies. “Okay. Day after tomorrow, we go to Nairobi.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PAUL AND LESLIE’S quest was initially met with interest and concern. But concern turned to skepticism when they told officials at the American embassy about the tilt-rotor aircraft and the three U.S. military servicemen who had picked up the seriously injured man they were seeking.
The ambassador’s assistant they spoke with first referred them to the marine master sergeant in charge of security for the embassy. He simply stared at the pair with his eyebrow raised and in essence dismissed them. They were informed that the aircraft they described was only a prototype. He was certain it was not currently being used by the marines in the Indian Ocean. He sent them back to the ambassador’s assistant.
In desperation, Paul asked the assistant whom they might speak with about American military or CIA operations in the region. They were politely but firmly told that if there were any such activities in the area—which there weren’t—they would not be privy to the details. Anything covert was classified.
After leaving the embassy, Paul and Leslie checked the hospitals. They were not surprised to find that no Americans had been brought in with gunshot wounds in more than six months. They returned home discouraged.
The following week, they drove back to Nairobi. It had been nine days since Ben’s assault, and Leslie was extremely anxious for news. But they met with similar results on the second visit. Once again, the embassy officials insisted they’d heard of no U.S. military activity in the area and they assured Leslie and Paul they knew nothing about a pilot named Ben Murphy.
Frustrated, Paul suggested visiting a man named Kenneth Day. Mr. Day was a retired diplomat who’d worked in East Africa for more than thirty years and knew virtually all of the expatriates. He had a reputation for having contacts outside of routine channels, which most likely included American intelligence officials.
Mr. Day saw them at once, and they talked with him for more than an hour. Leslie was impressed by the elderly man, who in some ways reminded her of Mama Joe. He was in his eighties, slight and apparently frail, but his eyes and demeanor retained a youthful exuberance that inspired confidence. After listening to the entire story, he told Paul and Leslie he’d make a few calls and see if he could help. He told them to come back in the afternoon for tea.
When they returned at the appointed time, Mr. Day regretfully told them that he’d been unable to learn any news about Ben. He admitted that he was surprised about the brick wall he had encountered. “Frankly,” he mused, “either my contacts really don’t know anything about Ben, or this is so top secret that no one is talking.”
Seeing their discouragement, he took Leslie’s hand in his. “I’m sorry I wasn’t any help. I hope you find your young man.” His words were heartfelt.
Paul and Leslie thanked Mr. Day and left to make the long drive back to Namanga. It was after dark when they arrived at the clinic. As Paul walked Leslie to the door he saw that tears of fear and disappointment clouded her eyes.
“Paul, what can we do now? I need to know if he’s all right.”
He shook his head in frustration. “The only other avenue I can think of is his parents.” He thought for a moment then asked, “Have you made arrangements to pick up Mama Joe next week?”
Leslie wiped her eyes. “Yes. I had Elizabeth contact Andy Singleton, and it’s all scheduled. I’ll be going along to meet her.”
“When you’re there, stop by the East Africa Mission office and get Ben’s parents’ address in Florida. When you get back to the States, you can either call them or go by. Surely they’ll have been informed about his injuries.” Both of them thought, but neither said out loud, that his parents would certainly have been informed if Ben had died.
It wasn’t much, but it was a plan. Leslie tried to control her voice. “Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” She wiped her eyes and managed a soggy smile. “It’s hard to believe that Mama Joe will be back in a week and I’ll be going home.”
He gave her a smile, and she kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks, Paul, for trying. You’ve been a terrific friend.”
* * *
IN A REVERSAL of the scene almost six months before, Leslie was waiting at the airport in Nairobi when Mama Joe returned. Because of the pervasive worry over Ben, the last days had been among the most challenging since Leslie had arrived in Kenya, and she was eager to see her friend. She never allowed herself to dwell on the possibility that Ben was dead—it was too painful. She recalled the long, hopeless days that had followed Brian and Emma’s deaths, and she resolutely battled sinking into that type of depression again.
Happy tears filled Leslie’s eyes when she spied Mama Joe hurrying toward her, dragging her large suitcase. After an enthusiastic embrace, Leslie stepped back and studied her friend. She touched the gray hair that had been shortened significantly. “You look terrific! I love your new hairdo. It makes you look like a teenager!”
Mama Joe laughed and self-consciously smoothed her new bob. “My daughter and daughter-in-law gave me a spa day for my birthday. This was part of it.”
“You also gained a little weight—which you needed to do! I’m guessing American food agreed with you. And hopefully you got a little rest.”
Mama Joe studied Leslie in return and was both pleased and alarmed by what she saw. The emotional fragility and sorrow that had been so evident were almost gone. Leslie seemed confident and content. But there was an unmistakable air of worry in her eyes that bordered on fear, and Mama Joe was aware of its cause. Through a series of emails and other contacts between Leslie and the home EAM office, Mama Joe had learned of Ben’s injuries and knew that he’d disappeared. “Is there any news about Ben?” she inquired.
“No.” Leslie’s smile vanished. She bit her lip and blinked several times to try to hold back the tears that threatened all too frequently. “I don’t know what to think. I’m afraid...” She shook her head and tried to smile.
Mama Joe hugged her again. “I’ve been praying since I heard.” She patted Leslie’s hand. “Leslie, it will be okay.”
Leslie looked at the warm brown eyes. “Mama Joe, I’m in love with him.”
“I know, dear. I can tell by your expression. And I’m certain he feels the same.”
TWO DAYS LATER, the nurses were seeing the last of the day’s patients. Leslie was tired and her back ached, but she was grateful the work kept her busy.
She was at the reception area charting her findings from her final patient when she heard the sound of a vehicle. She peered through a window expecting Paul or one of the tour guides who occasionally brought patients to the clinic. Instead she saw two unfamiliar men driving a covered Jeep.
Somewhat apprehensive, she ventured onto the porch to meet them. The men were identically dressed, wearing plain khaki shirts and pants. As they approached her, almost in unison they removed their canvas hats. Both were rather lean and of average height. One appeared to be in his early thirties and had dark red hair and a smattering of freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. The other man was a few years younger, with black hair and dark brown eyes.
A powerful sense of déjà vu accosted Leslie as the men approached. Her heart rate soared and she stood motionless in the clinic’s doorway as she recalled being notified of Brian and Emma’s deaths.
The redheaded man climbed the steps and stopped in front of her. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Major Bradley Littlejohn from the U.S. Air Force.” He presented her with an official-looking picture identification card. He gestured toward the younger man. “This is Lieutenant Josh Smith.”
Leslie’s vision blurred, and she grew light-headed. Oh God, she prayed silently. Not again. Please, God, not again. Her hand was unsteady when she took the card. She nodded slightly and said, “Yes?”
“Are you Leslie Carpenter?” Major Littlejohn questioned.
She nodded again. “Yes” was all she could manage. Her mouth was dry, and her peripheral vision darkened. She desperately needed to sit down.
Apparently alarmed by her sudden pallor, the major stepped toward her and clasped her arm. “Ma’am, are you okay?” He studied her carefully.
His touch steadied her, and she answered, “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m just a little dizzy.” She nervously rubbed her forehead and glanced from one man to the other, trying to read their expressions. They were not foreboding; rather, they seemed intent. Leslie’s heart was still racing, but she managed to say, “Is there something I can do for you?”
Littlejohn reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a plain white envelope. “I’ve been instructed to give this to you.”
Leslie’s hand trembled as she took the envelope. She fortified herself with deep breaths then looked down to discover that her name was printed neatly in black ink on the back. Her fingers were shaking so badly she had trouble tearing open the envelope. She pulled out a plain sheet of paper and had to blink a couple of times to read the words:
“Thanks for saving my life. Will you marry me? Ben.”
He was alive. Tears stung her eyes, and she turned her back on the air force officers. Despite the blurring caused by the tears, she reread the short note. In a heartbeat, her fear was replaced by elation. Hastily, she wiped her eyes and turned to face the two men. With a voice much calmer than she felt, she asked, “Where is he?”
“He’s at a hospital in Europe,” the major replied.
She swallowed and asked the question that was foremost on her mind, “How is he?”
“Recovering very well, from all accounts. He had a couple of surgeries, but that’s all I’m at liberty to discuss.” Major Littlejohn watched her closely as he added, “We’ve also been instructed to take you to meet him.”
Relief made tears threaten again, but Leslie did not waver in her reply. “When?”
Lieutenant Smith spoke for the first time. “If we leave within the hour, we can fly to one of our bases tonight. Then tomorrow morning, you’ll take a transport to Germany. If we wait much later, it will be tomorrow morning before we can leave.”
Leslie was unwilling to consider waiting even one more moment than necessary to see Ben. “Please come in. I need to pack a few things.” She hesitated. “I’d like to make one quick stop on the way.”
* * *
THE NEXT HOUR was a blur. Leslie introduced the men to Mama Joe and showed her Ben’s note. Tears of joy clouded the older woman’s eyes as she hugged Leslie. “I knew it would all work out! I am so happy for both of you! I was there at the beginning.” She laughed and rubbed the wetness from her eyes with the back of her hand. “Well, get going. Naomi and I can finish up here. You need to pack!”
Hurriedly, Leslie packed her nicest clothes, toiletries, money and her passport. Everything else would be left, either to be picked up when she returned or shipped to her at home. She paused to hug Naomi, Titus, Elizabeth and Agnes and to kiss them all goodbye. “I’ll email you as soon as I can and let you know what happens.”
Leslie looked lovingly and longingly at her mentor and friends and at the little clinic. She would have liked more time to say goodbye, but that couldn’t be helped. She blew kisses and waved to everyone as they drove off.
Before they left Namanga, she directed the air force officers to the Merdians’ house. Fortunately, Paul and Judy were both home, and upon hearing the sound of the vehicle, they met the trio at the door.
They were clearly surprised to see the two men dressed in neat khaki, and Paul was even more surprised to see Leslie with them. But Leslie was beaming, and she greeted them with a smile that left no doubt the news was good. Quickly she showed her friends Ben’s note. In the few moments she could spare, she kissed each of the children goodbye. She hugged Judy and then Paul. “Thank you both for everything! I’m not sure when we’ll be back...”
Judy laughed through her tears and said, “I can’t wait to learn what happens. I just wish we could see the wedding!”
Major Littlejohn cleared his throat, and Leslie pulled away and climbed into the Jeep. She waved at the family as they drove down the dusty road.
It was nearly dusk when they arrived at the airfield. As they approached, Leslie blinked at the unusual sight of the relatively small silver twin-engine plane sitting at the edge of the grass strip. Two uniformed men armed with automatic weapons were standing watch, and two more came from the small hangar when they heard the Jeep approach.
Hastily, the group loaded Leslie and her bag into the plane. On board, she was introduced to Captain David Wilson, who, along with Lieutenant Smith, piloted the plane. She was shown where to sit, and within minutes, the small jet had taxied to one end of the field and was airborne.
About an hour into the flight, one of the young airmen who’d been guarding the plane left his seat and rifled through an ice chest that was anchored at the rear of the compartment. He handed Leslie a soda and smiled shyly; he couldn’t be much older than twenty. “Here, ma’am. I’m about all we have in the way of a flight attendant.”
“Thank you very much. I think I could use the sugar and caffeine.” He started to make his way back to the rear of the plane, but Leslie stopped him. “Excuse me, please. Can you tell me where we’re going?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. Didn’t the major tell you? We’re going to Incirlik.”
Leslie blinked. “Incirlik?” The word was unfamiliar. It sounded like something one might find at a dentist’s office or hear in a sci-fi movie.
“Yes, ma’am. Incirlik Air Base.” Evidently Leslie still looked confused, because he added, “Turkey, ma’am.” He smiled again, nodded and returned to his seat.
* * *
THE FLIGHT TO southern Turkey took nearly five hours, so it was long after dark when they landed at the massive American installation. Despite the lateness of the hour, the landing area of the giant air base was brightly lit, allowing Leslie the opportunity to observe the bustling activity. Servicemen and -women were moving with varying purposes across the lit taxiways and among the hangars and other buildings that bordered the runways. A large collection of trucks, containers and military equipment appeared to be in variou
s stages of being loaded or unloaded from transport planes and service helicopters in an impressively choreographed manner.
Major Littlejohn was giving a report to one of the ground mechanics as Leslie was exiting the plane. He paused when he saw her and motioned her forward.
She held out her hand. “Thank you so much for coming for me.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied. “But you’re not done with me yet. I didn’t realize I hadn’t made myself clear. I fly the cargo plane you’ll be taking to Germany in the morning. We’ll be leaving at precisely 0700 hours. I’ll make sure that someone wakes you by six.”
She nodded and smiled with considerable relief. “Oh, that will be great. I’m glad to have a familiar face... I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
A young woman with short brown hair and a lively disposition met the plane. Identifying herself as Sergeant Connolly, she explained to Leslie that she would take her to the visiting officers’ quarters for the night. The women made their way through a maze of buildings before the sergeant deposited her in a two-story structure that appeared to be a small apartment building. “It’s not the Hilton, but it’s quiet,” she said. Smiling companionably, she rapped her fist on the thick cinder-block wall. “You’ll appreciate the quiet when you’re trying to sleep a quarter mile from a runway!”
As she showed Leslie inside she said, “Lieutenant Smith said you haven’t eaten anything. It’s past mess, but I can go to the kitchen and find you something.”
Leslie dined on a ham sandwich, an apple and a Snickers bar before taking a long shower. Finally she lay down on the bed with her hair still wrapped in a towel, doubting she would be able to sleep. In only seconds, however, she succumbed.
At precisely 6:00 a.m., there was a loud knock. Leslie awoke immediately as a man called through the heavy door, “Miss Carpenter, I have a breakfast tray for you. I’ll leave it here. Also, there will be a Jeep here in fifty minutes to take you to the plane.”
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