by Sarah Black
“They were in prison? Are they okay?”
“Not really. Take me off speaker phone, Kim.”
John heard a click, then Kim again. “Okay, it’s me.”
“How was Juan?”
“He was okay once the Horse-Lord got here. Seemed like he was himself again.”
“I love you, Kim. Please don’t get hurt chasing down pictures for your MFA.”
“I love you, too, Uncle John. Please remember I’m twenty-three, and while you are a primo problem solver, I’m actually smarter than you.”
“Really? How do you figure that?”
“The psychology department was doing IQ testing. I scored a 139. I know you scored a 138. You told me when I was a kid and I asked you how smart you were.”
“Sure it wasn’t a testing error? Or maybe you charmed the young psychology student into bumping up your points.”
“Charm is a form of intelligence. We’ll find your book. Here’s Abdullah.”
“Uncle John, sure you don’t need a native speaker? I can be there in fourteen hours.”
“I just want you to keep everybody safe, Abdullah.”
“I really don’t think I’m prepared to make any promises in that direction. Hey, Uncle John? I looked through the CD collection in your bedroom. I mean, what gives? KC and the Sunshine Band? The Ultimate Barry White Collection? What is wrong with you two?”
Really? “Gabriel is in charge of the music.”
“Right, blame the guy who’s in another state and can’t defend himself! I’m going to leave a few CDs for you to listen to, just an easy introduction. Nothing complicated.”
“An introduction to what?”
“To music, Uncle John.” Abdullah was also talking to him like he was a child. He must have caught the bug from Kim. “Rock and Roll, Jazz, Blues? Dancing and fucking, they’re fine in their place, but that’s not music! Oops, sorry. I mean….”
“Abdullah, if you stop pretending to be homeless, I will listen to your tapes.”
“CDs. Nobody listens to tapes anymore.”
“Whatever. You can throw out KC and the Sunshine band, but don’t touch the Ultimate Barry White Collection. That’s my favorite. Now let me speak to Billy.”
“Are you okay? I nearly puked watching it.” John could hear the strain, a fine tremor in his voice.
“I nearly puked when he socked me! But I’m fine. Did you see how sharp I looked?”
“That is an awesome suit.”
“I like the yellow shirt and tie you picked out for me the best of everything we bought. If it’s back from the dry cleaners, I’m going to wear it to the next press conference. So how are you, son? I was craving some of your tea today, that one with the blood oranges and rose hips and hibiscus. I can’t believe I’m starting to like it.”
“That’s my favorite, too. I was thinking we could plant some blackberry and raspberry vines in the back yard, make some fresh teas. You think they would grow here?”
“Maybe. If we built them a deep planter that we sunk in the ground. I’ve heard there were some traditional ways to plant up in northern New Mexico where they dug shallow pits, lined them with rocks, and planted trees in them.”
“I read something about the Hopi, how they planted—I was thinking about waffles, or a grid? I can’t remember. I’ll have to look it up.”
“Billy, do you know anything about the museums in Carthage?”
“Not really. Want me to look them up?”
“I would. Just write me a brief and send it to me, okay? That would be a big help.”
“I looked up some pictures of Carthage. It looks so beautiful, with the Mediterranean right there, and the sky so blue. Sad, though. Like that poem, how does it go? Two vast and trunkless legs of stone….”
John concentrated hard, trying to remember. “Ozymandias, and it was Shelley, I think, or Keats. I used to know it.
“I met a traveller from an antique land who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand, half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown, and wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command, tell that its sculptor well those passions read…. I can’t remember the rest. But you’re right, Billy. That poem looks like Carthage. I miss you, kiddo.”
“I miss you, too.”
“I’ll be home soon.”
“If you ask me, a person should be able to go to Tunisia and look out at the sea and think about the ruin of Carthage and elephant clocks, and not get beat up and thrown into prison.”
“I agree. Later, kiddo.”
John punched in Gabriel’s number.
He picked up on the first ring. “John. What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Uh-oh. Gabriel was pissed. “I had a narrow window of opportunity, Gabriel.”
“I am at the butt end of my last nerve, and you’re stomping on it!”
“When are you coming? I need you.” John closed his eyes. “Fucking hell.” He must be more tired than he’d realized.
“I’m on my way. Cody’s driving me into Cheyenne to get on a plane.”
“Is Juan okay?”
“Yeah. He’s been nose to nose with a horse since we got here. Cody’s gonna put him to work.”
John could hear Cody comment in the background. “The boy knows how to sit a horse.”
“Where can I weapon up? Should I go to Algeria first, see Painter’s people?”
“We don’t get to weapon up. I don’t want to give anyone the slightest excuse to overreact. We’re going to have to outthink him.”
“What? Are you saying I won’t get to tear a hole in that little shit?”
“Stop whining. Hey, you want to hear some shit? I walk into the hotel room, guess what’s in the living room of the suite? A big ass, cream colored leather couch shaped like a U. It’s like the damn thing’s following me around the world.”
“Huh. I’m flying into DC via Albuquerque. Kim is flipping out. He went back to Nordstrom’s with Billy and Abdullah and bought you two new shirts to calm himself down. You’re the only kick-ass general I know who needs three gay boys to dress him, John.”
“But I only need one gay boy to undress me.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can. Do me a favor, okay, and don’t…. Not….”
“I hear you. The butt end of your last nerve? Really?”
“I can’t sweet talk you right now. I’ve got a cowboy in the truck, and he doesn’t look like he’s gonna put up with that shit.”
John heard Cody. “Hey, leave me out of it!”
“Later, baby.”
Chapter 15
JOHN needed a few minutes to think about the new information he’d received from Eli. The source of the blasphemy charge was a mistaken identification of a page from Al-Jazari’s book. Eli had a copy of the Elephant Clock page, and most probably someone had incorrectly identified it as a page from the Qur’an. A piece of paper with Arabic script in the hands of an American was reported to The Ministry of Justice, or more likely the local Salafist cell, and Ali Bahktar had jumped into action, looking for some fresh meat to punch. John reached down and rubbed his ribs. Bahktar had managed to graze the ribs right above his liver.
The boys were out of prison and would stay out of prison unless half of the population of Tunisia burned down the Regency Resort coming for them. But Green was sick, might be hurt worse than they had anticipated, and he said he didn’t want to leave with a blasphemy charge hanging over his head. It was true, if they spirited the boys out of the country, it would be a violation of Tunisia’s legal code, and the embassy could be in hot water for helping Americans evade justice. It was understood that American businesses could count on the support of the embassy, but if they broke the host country’s law, they would have to face the consequences on their own. The embassy would work on their behalf, but quietly. Americans could not be seen to be able to buy their way out of their crimes, and it was illegal to leave the country with pending charges.
And that is
how the world would look at it, Americans disrespecting the Tunisian culture, disrespecting Islam, and then buying their way out of trouble, unless John could prove that the Salafists had overreacted. If he could prove that Eli and Daniel were showing their respect to one of the greatest Arab inventors and they had been beaten up by hard-core Salafists who couldn’t even read the page they had brought, then that might very well be two birds, one stone. One stone thrown right between the eyes of a deadly little shit of a rattlesnake.
John leaned against the doorway of their bedroom, listened to Eli and Daniel talk. “I’m not going if you’re not going, Hannibal. It’s like, the Death Star has been destroyed, but we still need to bring balance back to the Force,” Daniel said.
“Exactly,” Eli said. John smiled at them. Exactly.
SAM brought his dry cleaning, a new cup of coffee, and a schedule. “The Ambassador called. He sounded pissed but I said you wouldn’t come. I told him you couldn’t travel yet.” John felt his mouth drop open, and Sam winced. “Too much? I wasn’t sure the line, you know? Between tough and hard-assed.”
“No, it’s fine, Sam. Today we’re hard-assed.”
“You have a press conference scheduled in an hour. Jen set everything up. I think we’re going to have a class from the girl’s school come to watch the conference! One of the teachers is in Jen’s blogger network. Jen said everyone will behave in a more civilized manner if there are a bunch of schoolgirls watching.”
“Sounds right to me. What’s the purpose of this press conference?”
Sam blushed. “Oh, sorry, sir. It’s a joint conference with Minister Hamid Dilou. I understand he’s going to offer you a public apology from the Tunisian people.”
“Did he say anything about dropping the charges against Green and Forsyth?”
Sam shook his head. “I heard from Mr. Mortimer at the embassy. He said the Minister wouldn’t discuss dropping charges at this time because he’s Ministry of Culture and the charges came from the Ministry of Justice.”
John nodded, turned to Jen. She was drooping over her computer, eyes closing. “Jennifer.”
“Sir?”
“I need a very good color copy of a page out of an antique book before the press conference. The Book of Knowledge of Ingenious Mechanical Devices, by Al-Jazari, published 1206, and the page is the Elephant Clock. I think they have a copy on the Met website; I’m not sure where else. Find a copy with the best resolution for printing. We need to be able to read the writing. When you have done that, go to bed for a while. You don’t want to be at the news conference. I don’t want any more American faces identified as targets.”
“Yes, sir. I really hate when I’m in public and I have to pretend I don’t know these women. We’re friends, you know? We’re working together. And even speaking in public could put them in danger.”
“Today is one step in the right direction. But get some rest now because I’ll need you later.”
Jen printed up several copies of the page, and John brought one in to show Eli and Daniel. “Is this what we’re talking about?”
“Hey, look at that!” Eli took the page, and Daniel leaned over and looked at it in his hands. The doctor had taken Daniel’s IV out. “You found it! You know, sir, when I was a kid, I was a Boy Scout. I loved the badges where I got to make things. I saw the picture of this in an old encyclopedia my grandparents had. I think it was called Lands and Peoples. Afternoons at my grandma’s house, I’d go straight for Lands and Peoples.”
“I remember those,” John said. “They came with one of the encyclopedias, right? The kind that was sold door-to-door?”
“Yeah. My grandma would buy anything if someone came to the door and was prepared to visit a while. I looked at this, I was like eight or something, and I thought, ‘I’m going to build that clock one day. I’m going to Carthage, and I’m going to build the Elephant Clock of Al-Jazari.’”
Daniel reached over, rubbed Eli’s black curls until they stood up in little tufts. “You’re such a geek. Hey, bro, I’m going to call my girls. Take your medicine like a good boy, okay?”
Doctor Shakir was sitting next to the bed again, his head leaned back against the wall, and he opened his eyes at this and looked at the level of fluid in the IV bag.
“General Mitchel, we have secure coms? I want to call my wife, let her know I’m keeping kosher on my little vacation.” Daniel held out his phone, showed John a picture of a woman with a mass of dark curls piled on her head, and a baby with two front teeth and a wide grin, with the same dark curls.
“She’s a beauty! How old?”
“Six months. Jemma. She was a total surprise, but then it’s like you got hit by lightning, you know, and you’re totally in love? I grew a whole other heart just for that little girl.”
John nodded. “Something like that happened to me, too. Sam, rig up the sat phone for Daniel, okay?” John turned to the man. “Go into my bedroom so you have some privacy.”
He nodded, smiled his thanks. He was a good guy, John thought, taking care of his buddy, staying calm, pouring drops of water into Eli’s mouth with his broken hand. Smart and calm and patient. John studied him for a moment. “Why aren’t you in OCS?”
Forsyth grinned. “I wasn’t that impressed with the quality of serving officers during my time in uniform. Present company excepted, General.” He laughed then, took the phone Sam handed him. “I really wanted to be a chopper pilot. My granddad, he flew Blackhawks in Vietnam. My dad was a reserve pilot over in Kuwait during Desert Storm, and he told me this wild-ass story about the Horse-Lord. They were in Iraq somewhere, and the pilots were letting the kids come up in the choppers, just a little spin around the airfield, you know how they do? Well, the boys were having a blast, but this woman was off to the side, and she had a bunch of little girls with her. They were watching the helicopters. An Iraqi man kept yelling at them to go away, they couldn’t be there, so the Horse-Lord, he goes over and picks up a couple of armfuls of little girls and carries them over to his chopper, piles them all in and takes them for a ride. The woman, too. My dad said he took every little girl, one at a time, put her hands on the controls, and said, ‘You’re the pilot now. You’re flying this chopper.’ And the woman, she translated every time, so the girls could understand what he was saying.” He trailed off, watching John’s face. “You didn’t know about that? Well, anyway, that’s what I wanted to be, but the army said no. I was good enough to be a Ranger, though.”
“Forsyth, I suspect you are good enough to be anything you decide to be.”
“Does he still fly?”
“Everything he can get his hands on. He’s got a new toy. A hot air balloon.”
“Holy shit! I got to tell my boy.” He stuck his head in the bedroom. “Hannibal, the Horse-Lord’s got a hot air balloon!”
“Oh, man!” Eli was drifting off, though, and the doctor had his stethoscope out, listening to his chest. “Maybe when we get home, he’ll give us a ride.”
Forsyth’s face hardened, but John put a hand on his arm. “I’ve got a plan in case we need a good hospital.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Tel Aviv. Now go call your girls.”
JOHN took the dry cleaning into his bedroom, and Sam followed him into the room. “General, what do you want me to do now?”
“Give me an update.”
“On the security guys? Or on what, exactly?”
John turned around and looked at him. He was weaving on his feet, completely exhausted and overwhelmed. John thought that if Sam could grow wings and fly home, he would be perched on a window ledge right about now. “Did Wylie find some guys to go watch the doctor’s house?”
“He did. He said he had enough for two days around the clock with the money you gave him.”
John winced. That was too expensive to continue for long. “Give him another five, but we’ll have to suspend after that. What about Jen? Did she fill you in on what’s happening with the media?”
“Yeah. It’s
complicated, sir. She’s got to get information out in the round-about, so it doesn’t seem like it’s coming from an American, and then the women reblog and write essays and commentary, like that. Mostly about women’s and children’s issues, and how the changes since the revolution are affecting them, how a democratic system would work. It’s really the network that’s she’s cultivating, and sharing technology and equipment, so they can respond to each other when things are happening across the country. This is the first time she’s brought her own issue to the group, and this is more overtly political. She’s walking a line she doesn’t want to cross. But she thinks this is on her, what happened to Eli and Daniel.”
“Did you tell her it wasn’t?”
“I tried, but I’m not good with explaining myself, and she just blew me off.”
John couldn’t think of a decent analogy to give him for Jen.
“Can you brief me on the Minister of Culture?”
“He’s Hamid Dilou. He was an underminister and just became a minister since the revolution.”
John looked at him when he stopped speaking. “What was his position under the old government? Does he seem friendly toward Americans? What was his education?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
John gave his arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry, kiddo. We can look him up and see if he has a Wiki page.”
“I’m pretty stupid with this stuff.”
“No, you’re not. It’s something you need to learn how to do, just like everything. But you will be happy to know the Horse-Lord is on his way. He should be here late tomorrow afternoon or maybe tomorrow night.”
Sam smiled spontaneously and looked happier than John had seen him in days.
“When he gets here, I’m transferring you to communications. You and Jen are going to have to find a way to get along.”