by Rose Fox
Adel almost swallowed his tongue when he recognized the voice of Effendi, his boss. For several weeks that he had disappeared and now he noticed that the also the number Effendi was calling from was different.
“Yes, boss.”
”Are you alone?”
“Yes, Boss.”
I saw how well you organize and execute important projects.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Stop saying that” Effendi said to him and heard him say again,
“Yes, boss.”
Even Adel laughed when he caught on to how he had answered and he dared to ask his master:
“Where have you disappeared to, Boss?”
“Ah, not now, it isn’t important. Listen to what I am asking of you,” and he heard that Adel was talking to him.
“Have you got a different telephone, Boss?”
“Maybe you shut up and listen ?!" Effendi said, getting angry. “Tell Rulam, Mustafa and Abu-Rein to go to the ‘Chai Huneh’ hostel on Thursday at eight o’clock in the evening, and go to Room 202. Can you remember that?”
“Yes, Boss,” he said quickly, “but do you mean that I should approach Ayatollah Abu-Rein?!” His voice trembled in awe. “And tell him that you made the request?”
“No, idiot, don’t mention my name to anyone. Just inform them of the meeting and then, call Abu-Rein and tell him who has been invited, so that he will agree to go there. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Boss!”
Effendi hung up at once to prevent him from asking anything more.
It was now completely dark. A bird screeched, tiny fireflies flickered between the tree trunks and the leaves above rustled in the wind. Effendi shivered. He looked at the luminous hands on his watch and saw that it was seven forty-five. He suddenly grasped that the replacement car had not yet arrived and the bomb was supposed to have exploded quarter of an hour ago.
Car headlights appeared in the distance and Effendi tensed. He grasped the straps of the knapsack, wondering again if it was preferable to use the revolver in his pocket instead of the snake that fell asleep in his bag.
The car slowed down and came to a halt beside his silent car. Effendi strained his eyes. No one got out of the car and Effendi presumed that the man was surprised that his car had not yet exploded.
Effendi got down on his hands and knees and progressed slowly. He was cut by thorns and stones and dragged his kitbag on the ground and got closer to the cars under cover of dark.
Rulam was sitting in the car that arrived and he indeed stared in amazement at the car in front of him. He knew it was supposed to have been blown to smithereens together with its driver a half-hour earlier and now he was busy talking to Mustafa on the phone.
“It’s here, nothing happened to the car. Everything is dark and Khaidar is nowhere to be seen.”
On the other end of the line, Mustafa frowned. He was smoking a hookah and released a jet of smoke from his mouth, watching how it split into white strips and left its aroma in the air.
“Perhaps he got tired of waiting? What time did you arrange to meet?”
“Half past seven.”
“Well, really, it’s now ten past eight. The bastard just got up and left.”
“What, don’t you understand, Mustafa? The car is still here and didn’t explode.”
The door appeared to open and when he looked he noticed that indeed, it was slightly open, but he didn’t attach importance to it and continued talking.
“Mustafa, that son of a bitch would not just get up and go without trying to call. I know him.
“Fine, I suggest you go to his car and come back and tell me what’s happening, okay?”
“Listen, I’m not sure it’s worth … oh, in the name of Almighty Allah and his Prophet Mohammed, what’s this?!” Rulam screeched.
Just then, something wound round his ankle, slid up his leg and rose up in the air in his face, and shot its forked tongue out of its ugly strip of a mouth. When Rulam waved his arm in anguish, the snake attached itself to him and bit his cheek, and when he tried to chase it away, it bit him again on his threatening arm. The telephone flew out of his hand and a voice called out of it:
“What’s happening there? Hey, talk to me!”
Rulam screamed with horror, pushed the door open with his leg and went out on the road. He kicked with his feet trying to extricate himself from the snake that crept up to his shoulder, twisted round and slipped down the length of his back, descended to the road and disappeared into the dark. Rulam raised his hands to his choking throat. He foamed at the mouth and his body squirmed wildly. He felt his muscles becoming paralyzed and a minute later he dropped on the ground and twitched in his death throes.
Effendi got up off the ground but still kneeling, he peered into the car. When he was certain there was no one there, he went up to Rulam, who lay on the floor and searched through his clothes.
He removed a revolver from one pocket and a folded piece of paper from another but, was unable to read what was written on it in the dark. He climbed into the car and was able to read in the pale light inside it.
“Thursday at 8, 202.”
”Flight 505, Turkish Air, in the name of Effendi Khaidar at 12.”
He frowned and tried to understand.
The first line was clear to him, because he remembered the message he had passed on to Adel, but the second line frightened him.
He returned to Rulam, leaned over him, rummaged in his shirt pockets and on his body and touched a crumpled paper bag that hung on a brown cord, tied round his neck. He pulled it off at once and hurried to the meager light in the car. He found two banknotes of 2000 Rials each, and an airline ticket in his name. Effendi tried to guess why Rulam had prepared an airline ticket to Iran in his name and then, he noticed another paper bearing a small picture of Rulam.
“You planned to fly back, pretending to be me, you bastard?” he addressed the figure lying on the road:
“You wanted to hide my murder, ah?”
On impulse, he pulled out the telephone that had belonged to Oleg, the passenger he had killed, and hid it in Rulam’s pocket as he muttered:
“Let them think you killed him. It’s a fact, you took his phone.”
He closed the car door and put it in gear.
When he wanted to continue his journey to “The King’s Hotel”, he hit his forehead. Of course, there was no point to the assignment. He had no car to exchange, nor did he have a bomb for the identical car. Then he remembered the bomb in his knapsack that was set to explode at eleven thirty. He took out the black bag once more and put the clock forward.
Effendi was aware that if he wanted to survive, he had to kill all those you were interested in his demise. One was down. He still did not know how he would get to the second and third ones, but he did know that he was exhausted right now. He fell asleep in the car, his revolver cocked and ready to fire, beside him.
The noise of a truck roused Khaidar and he sat up in fright and looked at his watch. It was a quarter past four and it was still dark all around. He needed to get out of the car to relieve himself and hesitated whether to take his bag with him. In the end, he slung the strap over his shoulder, got out and went between the trees of the forest where he urinated.
Lights drew closer in the distance and the screech of brakes was heard. When he peeped out from between the trees, he saw another car arriving and two figures stepped out of it. The two approached the car he had just left, opened the driver’s door and got in. Effendi breathed with relief, pleased that he had got out of the car and that he had taken his knapsack with him. Clearly, the pursuit of him was still in high gear. One of the figures stood facing the headlights and Effendi saw the beard and the physical appearance he was familiar with – it was Mustafa.
He still did not know who the identity of the second man with him was but presumed that he, too, did not have his welfare at heart.
He sat down on the leaf-carpeted ground, the black bag, swinging on his arm and when he looked at it, he go
t an idea. That same bomb that the two of them planned to kill him with – would kill them.
He opened the bag and set the clock to detonate the bomb at four thirty-five, in another ten minutes time, and waited.
The two men were busying themselves around the car he had abandoned. They climbed in and out of it, opened and slammed the bonnet shut, got into the back, opened the trunk and almost disappeared inside it.
Effendi moved to the edge of the forest then got down and crawled on his stomach with the black bag tied to his left forearm and dragging on the ground.
He progressed a few meters then stopped to rest. When he laid his head on the ground and breathed, he thought what bad form he was in and firmly decided to continue the PT he had once done so regularly to keep fit.
When he raised his head, he saw that the two had returned to their car, and he had another five meters to go. Suddenly the motor started and he knew they were about to drive away. He quickly threw the bag ahead of him and it rolled under their car. Effendi got up and moved towards the forest on his hands and knees, praying they would be delayed till the explosion.
When he had just reached the trees, a tremendous explosion was heard that shook the air and lit up the night. The impact threw Effendi against the tree trunk beside him. Shattered parts flew around him and a rain of objects spread all over. When he looked back, he saw small flames licking at the remains of the car.
Effendi was tense and exhausted and did not assess his position wisely. Instead of escaping and getting far away from the place, he went deep into the forest, lay down his knapsack under his head and fell asleep.
In his dreams, he heard the whine of police cars squealing in his ears and he pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator but his car refused to move forward and his heart pounded hard. He woke up to the noise and the racket, flashing blue lights, deafening horns being blown and sat down in a panic, unable to understand where it was coming from.
A giant projector was switched on. It moved and illuminated the surroundings, throwing the light in every direction and when it penetrated the forest, Effendi lay down and merged with the sand. Suddenly he remembered Rolam's revolver in his pocket, pulled it out and hid it deep under the carpet of fallen leaves near the tree. This move revealed him. The searchlight stopped racing around and focused on his image that was digging and within less than a minute people reached him, picked him up and led him roughly to the police cars.
A flashlight blinded him and illuminated his face as a body search was carried out on him. Two cell phones were removed from his pockets, an airline ticket, and banknotes. Someone remarked that he was unarmed and he remained silent and waited. A policeman, dressed in gray, pointed to him and yelled that he knew him and that he was the wanted man, Effendi Khaidar, a member of the ‘Kaukab’ organization.
The policemen turned their gaze for a second to the officer, who was speaking, and that second was time enough for Effendi. He bent down like a slippery eel, rolled on the ground and jumped into the darkness. He ran faster than he had ever run in his whole life, reached the forest and disappeared among the trees. He returned to exactly where he had been before, searched desperately for the revolver he had hidden there just a few minutes earlier. When he found it, he fled deeper into the woods.
The projector lit up all at once and illuminated deep between the trees but, Effendi melded with a tree trunk, with his back to them. He watched how the giant ray of light wandered slowly, touching the tree he was pressed up against and continuing onwards. He listened to the voices and when he heard the crackling of twigs behind him, he knew that they were popping under the feet of the men, who were chasing him down.
They moved forward into the forest in a horizontal line and Effendi did not move. He waited until the last second when he could almost smell them, held his gun in both hands, turned towards them and shot round after round. He hit every figure that stood out against the background of the light that came from outside the forest and watched them fall, one by one.
When the firing pin clicked and the revolver stopped firing, he went to hide behind another tree to replace the empty magazine.
Just then, short commands were heard and the men spread out into a broad circle, surrounding the area. Someone called out:
“There he is, fire!”
At least ten revolvers were aimed at him. They fired at him like an execution-style firing squad and filled him with holes like a strainer.
Effendi remained fixed to the tree trunk, shocked with each hit and very slowly slipped down to the ground. They pulled and dragged him over the sand to the road. Then they brought the dead from the forest and laid them at a distance from him in a long line, alongside one another.
Effendi shot seven policemen to death that day and an additional one survived and lived.
One of the soldiers stood beside him and spat on his body and then kicked him.
* * *
T i m m y
Abigail felt very sick in the morning. She couldn’t put even a tiny morsel in her mouth yet she felt like throwing up every ten minutes. When she bent over the toilet bowl for the third time today and held on to a wooden board that she placed across it, she heard beeps from the radio communications device.
"No, just not now," she thought.
She washed her face and went to receive the message. She read the sentence she deciphered and understood that she was being called up for an internal assignment for the organization.
“Timmy has disappeared. It’s important that you act.
Make contact.”
Abigail shrugged, like a little girl who has been given a task she doesn’t feel like doing. Nausea and vomiting had exhausted her and all she wanted at this moment was to rest. Later, she thought she should say something and delay the assignment till she felt better, and called.
“Yes, I hear,” she said.
“I can hardly hear you, what’s the matter, haven’t you eaten today?” Michael tried to joke with her.
“No, and I don’t have the strength to do anything today.” She responded impatiently.
Michael couldn’t understand what had happened to this energetic agent and tried to check that he hadn’t got the wrong person and said:
“Hey, am I speaking to the most beautiful woman in the word? To Lucy?”
She smiled in spite of herself, swallowed, and tried to suppress the sensation of nausea that rose again in her throat.
“Are you flattering me, eh?” she said, “Michael, make it brief. I’m not feeling well.”
“Okay,” he added hurriedly, “Timmy has disappeared. He transmitted a distress signal to me this morning. It happened while he had the ‘Noodle’ under surveillance ahead of the assignment set for tomorrow night.”
Then she caught on to what he was saying.
“Did you say he was monitoring the ‘Noodle’? Is the ‘Noodle’s performance for tomorrow?"
“Exactly.”
There was silence.
“Let me understand what you said. Is the assignment to find Timmy or continue the surveillance?”
“Apparently, the one depends on the other,” he replied.
“There’s another question that you may not want to answer. Will the mission be undertaken even if Timmy isn’t found, or if..?” She grew silent and Michael blurted out a groan.
Till now, Michael had tried to dismiss this pessimistic possibility but knew that he had to offer this agent information based on fact. It was difficult for him, but he answered her quietly:
“No, there is no connection to Timmy’s disappearance and the assignment will be carried out in any event.”
When he heard Abigail’s response, he admitted to himself that there was good reason she was so admired and understood the source of her strength. She spoke evenly and to the point.
“I will find our Timmy, of that I have no doubt. Now, tell me exactly what happened.”
Suddenly he heard her moving away and yelling:
“Wait, hold on,
I’ll be right back.”
He heard loud sounds of her retching and was surprised.
She washed her face and returned to the radio transmitter, dragging her legs.
“Hey, what happened?" He asked with concern, "Is it an upset tummy or are you ill?”
“Sort of,” she said evasively, and then thought for a moment and spoke out loud:
“What the hell, why not tell you the truth? This is how this pregnancy begins with me.”
Michael gasped.
“Oh, how… what will happen? No one can do this as well as you.” His voice was soft now and sounded fatherly.
You’re sucking up, again. I want you to know that if you keep this up then, it might be worth making the effort.”
Michael laughed.
“Timmy was following the ‘Noodle’ in a silver “Bentley” he drove out of the hotel parking garage. That’s the car in which our, your ‘Noodle’ arrived. It contains a bomb set to explode at ten o’clock on Saturday night, which is tomorrow.”
“Aha,” she said and suddenly understood and said:
` “What, what, repeat what you just said.”
“In its place, he left an identical car on which the license number plate had a different first digit. The second explosive device was set for eleven fifteen, on the same Saturday night.”
“Why is there a time difference of an hour and a quarter?”
“Because the order the ‘Noodle’ received was not from us but from them."
“What?! So, how the hell did they…” She was distraught. “How did they crack our code, how did you discover it… Well, don’t answer, because it doesn’t really matter right now.”
After a moment of silence, she asked:
“When did you receive the distress call?”
“This morning, at seven o’clock,”
Abigail glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost eight o’clock.
“Hey, although it’s close to the time of the incident, the location is far away from me.”
“That’s right, so how will you reach the hotel in Italy? Oh, I feel very disheartened.”