“God I love your body,” he moaned.
“And my body thanks you for all the good loving,” said Lillian as she leaned forward and languidly kissed him.
After Jackson pulled away he rose, walked over to the water bucket, and poured a fresh basin of wash water. He returned to her, setting the basin by the pallet and spent the next few minutes washing off the evidence of their activity.
“This isn’t just sex, you know,” he said quietly as he wrung out the washrag.
“I know.”
“I want you to know, I have never in my life been as happy as I am right now, with you.”
Lillian’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes clouded over, misting with tears.
“Come home to me tomorrow night, Jackson.”
He tossed the washrag into the basin and kissed her softly. “Absolutely!” he vowed before lowering her back down onto the surface of the pallet, curling up behind her, and finally drifting off to sleep. “This is where I belong. Right here, with you.”
“Don’t you ever forget it.”
“Never!”
“This is it,” Hassan announced as they approached the Hijaz railway. “This is the spot.”
“All right,” Jackson said. “Let’s take a bit of a break, have some food and water, and then we’ll get to work.”
The men dismounted and proceeded to water and feed the horses before settling down and eating a small meal themselves. It was still dark and the temptation to give in to sleep was strong. Ali lay down in the soft sand.
“No sleeping, son,” Jackson said to the young man. “We’ve got work to do. You can rest when we return to camp.”
Ali promptly stood up and stretched. “I don’t know how you do it. Keep going on such little sleep, I mean.”
“Practice. Let’s get going. We’ve got a lot of material to lay before sunrise, which looks to be about an hour away. Jemal, here is the box containing the blasting caps. They’re very volatile, so be careful.”
Jemal nodded and accepted the box. He lifted the lid from it and counted. “There are only six.”
“That’s all we’ll need, trust me.”
“My men and I will start packing the explosives along the rail,” said Hassan. He began to retrieve the saddlebags containing the small sticks of dynamite that they’d manufactured.
Jackson gestured towards them. “Can we make more?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Aqaba,” Jackson said, looking Hassan directly in the eye. “We may need some for Aqaba.”
“I am not going to Aqaba. That is your mission, Lieutenant, not mine.”
“Winning the war is our mission, Hassan. Here I am, helping you, am I not?” Jackson retrieved the wires he planned to use to detonate the blast. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be stuck with a simple fuse and all of the pitfalls that go with it.”
“I haven’t seen your miracle box work yet,” Hassan said skeptically.
“It will work. And you will give us dynamite for Aqaba.”
Hassan shook his head. “We need the nitroglycerine we have to keep up the sabotage efforts on the rail.”
“After Aqaba I’ll go back to Cairo. I’ll get you money, and I’ll get you munitions. I’ll get you everything you need to effectively keep this country in chaos and prevent the Turks from getting their supplies,” committed Jackson.
“You’ll work with us?”
“I—” Jackson paused and looked off into the distance.
“You’re right, together we are stronger. You have expertise. In short, we need you.”
Jackson nodded silently.
“I have your word?”
Jackson met the man’s gaze. “You have my word. After Aqaba, after I report into Hornby in Cairo, I’ll join you.”
“How long?” Hassan asked.
“I’ll do the best I can! It’s not like I run the British Army. There are people I answer to.”
“You can convince them. How long?” Hassan pressed.
Jackson pursed his lips together, placed his hands on his hips and kicked at the sand. “Six months?”
“A year.”
“And you’ll let us use all the munitions at your disposal for Aqaba?” Jackson asked, laying out the deal.
“Except for what you leave behind with a small contingent to protect the wounded.”
“You drive a hard bargain. A lot can happen in a year.”
“We could even win a war. Do we have a deal?”
“Yeah, mate. We’ve got a deal,” Jackson said. “Now let’s get this bloody show on the road.”
Within fifteen minutes, the dynamite was packed tightly into the sand around the rail and the men were busy laying the wiring. As the sun began to crest on the horizon, Jackson started to splice the various wires together and connect them to the black box.
“Ready to set the blasting caps?” Jemal asked.
“Just a second,” Jackson responded. “I’m almost done. I’ll meet you over there. Tread carefully, Jemal.”
Jackson completed the wiring and turned to Hassan, “Wait for us on the other side of the sand dune. Jemal and I will join you once the caps are set.”
“You sure Ali can do this?” Hassan asked.
“All he has to do is push down on the plunger, wait for the explosion, then grab the box,” Jackson explained.
“I can do it,” Ali confirmed.
Hassan and his two men mounted their horses. “See you in a few minutes, Lieutenant.”
Jackson ran over to meet Jemal. “You’ll hand me a cap, then begin to make your way over to the next site. Move slowly. Be careful. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I’ve got the wiring done.”
Jemal nodded his understanding and handed Jackson the first of the blasting caps before turning to make his way to the second site.
Jackson inserted the cap into the stick of dynamite, picked up the wire, and carefully threaded it through, securing it before running over to join Jemal. The sun was up now and a thin stream of smoke could be seen in the far distance.
“The train,” Jemal said anxiously. “It’s approaching.”
“We’ve got time.” Jackson accepted the second blasting cap. “Go.”
It took Jackson just a few minutes to reach the third site. As he ran up Jemal handed him the third cap before turning once again to focus on the approaching train. Jackson noticed a thin sheen of sweat covering his forehead. As Jemal wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve Jackson reminded him, “Go on to the next site, I’ll be right behind you.”
“All right, Lieutenant.”
“You’re doing well, Jemal,” Jackson assured him as he reached the forth site, and accepted the blasting cap that Jemal handed to him. “Only one more to go. You’re a good soldier.”
Jemal smiled. “I’m a better servant.” He reached into the box, extracted a blasting cap, and moved to hand it to Jackson.
“You’re much more than a servant, my friend,” Jackson responded, holding up the cap Jemal gave him. “I’m set for now, hold onto it until the next site. Now, get going.”
Jackson shifted his focus back to setting the cap into the stick of dynamite. As he reached behind him for the wire he heard it, the unmistakable sound of an explosion up ahead.
Jackson dropped the wires and set off at a full run over to Jemal who was lying, face-down in the sand no more than a hundred meters ahead of him. As he reached Jemal’s prone body, he fell to his knees. He reached out and carefully turned Jemal onto his side. Jackson took one look at the gaping hole in the man’s stomach and turned away, swallowing down the bile that rose to his throat. Then he heard a moan. He turned back and looked into the deep brown eyes of his unlikely friend. The man who had first rescued and protected his wife; the man whose advice had helped him win her. Jackson noted the unmistakable gurgling sound, which indicated that his lungs were already filled with blood. Jemal coughed, weakly, sputtering out blood.
“Fuck!” Jackson groaned as he looked fro
m Jemal to the train. “Fuck!”
“Can he ride?” Ali asked.
Jackson looked up. He hadn’t even noticed the young man approach.
“Return to your post!” Jackson shouted.
“But—”
“Return to your post! We need to complete the mission,” Jackson said with a sense of calm he did not feel.
“We can’t leave him. If he manages to survive, if the enemy captures him—”
“He’s not going to survive, and he’s not going to suffer.”
Jackson pulled his gun out from behind the back of his trousers, cocked back the hammer, and placed the barrel against Jemal’s temple. “He’s a hero,” he said, then he pulled the trigger.
Ali flinched as the gun fired, the sound reverberating through the air. Jackson rose slowly then turned towards him. His hand, arm, shirtfront, and face splattered in blood.
“Hold this.” Jackson held out the gun. “Return to your post. I’ll finish the wiring and join you.”
Ali fell to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach in the sand.
“Ali!”
The young man looked up at him, tears filling his eyes. “Yes, sir?”
Jackson crouched down next to him. “We have little time. I’m counting on you. Jemal is counting on you. You now have his command. Return to your post,”
“Yes, sir.” Ali climbed to his feet, and then ran back to where the black box waited.
Jackson picked up the box of blasting caps, opened it, and noted they were one short. In his haste, Jemal must have inserted the extra into the pocket of his robe instead of re-opening the box. He could only set one more charge. Jackson placed the box on the ground, returned to the fourth site, and finished his work there.
On his way to the fifth, he retrieved the final blasting cap, stoically walking past Jemal’s body. Jackson cleared his mind and mechanically set about completing his task. He looked up and saw that the train was now just a couple of miles off in the distance. He walked back over to Jemal and knelt alongside of him. After saying a silent prayer, Jackson quickly piled sand onto the motionless corpse. Before covering the face Jackson paused, brushed off his hands, reached up, and closed Jemal’s eyes.
“I’m sorry, my friend,” he whispered, then he climbed to his feet and ran over to join Ali. “My gun?” Jackson extended his hand and Ali passed him the weapon.
“Are we all set?”
“Yeah, get out of here, I’ll be along in a minute.”
“Thought I was going to do this.”
“The plan’s changed.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m bloody angry! And you don’t get to ask why. You follow orders. Go!”
Ali climbed onto his horse and rode off. Jackson then crouched in the sand, his eyes fixed on the approaching train, waiting…waiting…waiting.
The train moved closer, the dull roar of its engine increasing to a loud thunder. Jackson could feel the ground rumble under his feet as it crossed in front of him. He swiftly stood up. “Jemal, this one’s for you.” He pushed down forcefully on the plunger and detonated the enormous blast.
The force of the front blast caused the engine and the next two cars to jump the tracks. Almost simultaneously, the other sites exploded causing damage further down the line. A fire erupted in two of the cars and thick spirals of dark black smoke could be seen reaching up towards the sky. He quickly removed the wires from the black box and jumped onto his horse. As he looked, back he could see several men climbing out of the wreckage, some appearing wounded, others just dazed. He glanced one last time at the mound of sand alongside the tracks. Then, with the resigned determination that had become almost second nature to him, he turned his horse around and rode off.
Chapter Fifteen
“You should get some sleep,” Ahmed said.
“I got some sleep with Jackson before he left. I’m all right,” Lillian replied.
Ahmed walked over to her. She was busy changing the dressings on one of the wounded. As she reached her hand up to brush away a lose strand of hair, he grasped her wrist and pulled her to a standing position.
“Come closer to the lamp.” He pulled her towards him.
Lillian was tired, much more tired than she wanted to admit. She lost her footing and crashed into his chest. Ahmed steadied her, and then lifted her chin, tilting it towards the light so he could examine her eyes.
“You’re dehydrated,” he announced.
“I’ll drink some water.”
“He demands too much of you, compromising your safety and your health.”
“Please,” Lillian tried to turn away. “Don’t speak ill of him. He’s a passionate man—”
Ahmed reached out once again for her. “I would never—”
Abdulla interrupted them. “Ahmed!”
Ahmed froze and released Lillian at once. He took a step back, moving away from her and turned to face the prince.
“Yes, my lord? How may I serve you?”
Lillian walked over quickly to the water bucket and picked up the ladle. As she brought the ladle to her lips her hand trembled, spilling some of the precious liquid onto the floor.
“I heard raised voices,” Abdulla explained as he watched Lillian.
Ahmed followed his gaze, observing for himself her tremors.
“I apologize. I was concerned for Mrs. Crawford’s health. I—”
Abdulla held up his hand, cutting Ahmed off, and turned to face Lillian. “Why are you not asleep? It’s late.”
“After Jackson left I couldn’t go back to sleep. I figured I might as well be doing something useful, take my mind off—”
“Sleep would be useful,” Ahmed interjected.
Abdulla once again raised his hand, cutting him off. “Enough, she is not your woman. You’re right, of course, but she is not yours to command.”
Abdulla turned to Lillian. “Come.”
He walked out of the tent and Lillian followed.
She followed him all the way down the path to the water’s edge before Abdulla stopped and turned to look at her.
“I gave him my word that I would see to your safety.”
Lillian swallowed. “Tell me he’s coming back.”
“I am not a seer. But I can tell you that he very much believes you are worth coming home to. Now, disrobe and bathe, then you will eat something and sleep.”
“You can’t order me to sleep! And I’m not taking my clothes off in front of you.”
“Now, you of all people know that’s not true. I can order you to do as I please. Come now, give me your clothes, I will have someone wash them and bring you a fresh robe.”
“What’s going to happen if he doesn’t return?” Lillian asked, her lip quivering, struggling to hold back her tears. “I can’t—”
“Shh.” Abdulla reached out, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her into a comforting embrace. “He will return. It’s a simple mission. This time tomorrow night you’ll be back in his arms. The men will be asleep for a few more hours yet. You have plenty of time and privacy. Leave your clothes here by the waters edge. I’ll be back shortly.”
“So why are you awake at this hour?” Lillian asked as he began to walk away.
Abdulla shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep either, bad dreams. I dreamt Ilham lost the child.”
“Ilham is with child. That’s why you were sending her back to your palace.”
“Not the only one.” He looked down at the sand. “For some strange reason, she genuinely seems fond of me. I find that endearing, and rare, something worth safeguarding. I pray I find her well upon my return.”
Lillian nodded, and then began to unbutton her shirt. “Thank you.”
Lillian heard the rustle of his robes as he turned around and walked back down the path. She paused for a moment and bent down to feel the temperature of the water. She allowed her memory to drift, standing up and closing her eyes in an effort to imagine that it was his hands slipping the buttons through the buttonholes
of her shirt. Lillian was brought out of her fantasy by the sound of someone approaching. She spun around quickly to come face to face with Preston.
“Preston! My God, you scared me!” she gasped, clutching her shirt closed. “Turn around, I’m not dressed.”
“And that’s bad why?” He openly raked his eyes down the length of her body, and then reached for her.
“Don’t touch me!” hissed Lillian.
“Not what you were saying the last time we were together. As I recall you were begging for it, screaming my name.” He moved closer still.
“First of all, I’m surprised you remember anything you were so drunk! And, second of all, I was screaming for you to stop!” Lillian struggled to keep her voice under control. “Preston, so help me, if you don’t leave right now, I’m going to scream again.”
“And how is that going to look? What will Abdulla think? I saw the two of you a few minutes ago.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw you in his arms. What would your soldier think? Perhaps I should have a talk with him. On the other hand, by the looks of things, he already knows what he has.”
“There is nothing going on between Abdulla and me. And you’re welcome to say whatever you want to my husband, he’ll never believe you!”
“Your husband! Now, that’s a joke, isn’t it? One of the men told me just how this marriage came to pass. Don’t be a fool, Lillian, as soon as he’s through with you, he’ll cast you aside. He’ll abandon you!”
“No, he won’t. He loves me. I’m his wife!”
“You’re his whore! I saw you. What you let him do to you out here where anyone could have seen—”
“You watched us?” Lillian was mortified.
Preston shrugged. “I was curious. Didn’t remember you liking it so much. Seems little Lillian is all grown up.”
Lillian turned and ran, her survival skills kicking in.
But Preston, both faster and taller, caught up to her within a few strides. He reached out, grabbed the back of her shirt to slow her progress. Before she could scream, he clamped one hand over her mouth pulling her towards him. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and with a sweep of his foot he took her legs out from underneath her.
The Soldier & The Spy Page 15