The General and the Elephant Clock of Al-Jazari

by Sarah Black

  John looked over at Gabriel, watched him take a bite of grilled calamari, his smiling mouth closing over the fork. Gabriel reached for his thigh under the table.

  “We have lots to talk about,” John said.

  “Yes, we do,” Gabriel agreed. “But not if you’re going to yell at me when I am doing my absolute level best to take care of everybody.”

  “How’s Juan?”

  Gabriel closed his eyes. “He’s fine. But you’re not going to believe it, John. Check this out.” He dug out his wallet, opened it to a little photo. He handed it over. The girl looked maybe fourteen, with high platform sandals, a pair of denim short-shorts over long, skinny legs, and a tee shirt pulled off one shoulder, the dark bra strap showing. She had lots of wild black hair pulled up and tumbling everywhere.

  “She’s young to be a hooker, isn’t she? Did Kim take her picture when he was with the baby gangbangers? Do we need to call the social service people?”

  Gabriel shook his head, stuffed the picture back in his wallet. “This little pinto bean is my son’s first girlfriend. He said they’ve had sex, and even better, have confessed their love for one other!”

  “Oh, my God. She’s not… she’s too young to get pregnant, isn’t she?”

  “Juan says not to worry, that a gentleman always wears a condom to protect his lady. I nearly drove the fucking bike off a cliff.”

  John ate some more calamari. “She’s recruiting,” he guessed. “She’s bringing boys into the gang. One of the older guys is sending her out looking for nice suburban kids that the cops will never suspect of causing trouble.”

  “That would be my guess, though Juan nearly punched me in the mouth when I suggested such a thing. Then he got nose to nose with a barn full of horses and cowboys and he forgot me completely.”

  “Gabriel, did you just call this child a pinto bean?”

  “Pinto Bean in not an ethnic slur when it is said by a man named Sanchez, who has family going back seven generations in New Mexico, about another person who has just fucked his innocent young son into joining a gang.”

  “Oh, right, I forgot you were a conquistador in a former lifetime.”

  “Her name is Conchita, but she goes by Cha Cha. I think the best thing to do is let Martha go talk to Cha Cha’s mama. Martha is going to take Father Gregory from St. Mathew’s and go down to the barrios and kick some fourteen-year-old butt. My guess is Cha Cha is going to find someone else to fall in love with her while Juan is learning to ride a horse.”

  “Does Juan seem… is he okay with it all? Leaving Albuquerque and Conchita behind?”

  “I think so. I think he was more freaked out than he would admit when one of the other boys let him hold his gun. Juan made sure Kim saw him. He knew exactly who it was when the other boys were talking about ‘this badass Korean dude with the camera.’” Gabriel wiped both hands down over his face, scrubbed hard. “When did Kim become badass? Jesus, give me a break. I gave Juan the sex ed talk again.”

  “Yeah? How did that go?”

  “He said he didn’t need it anymore since he was now a man. I guess when you’re a man you don’t need to listen to your father. I get the feeling by the time I get back he’ll be a man and a cowboy. Cody Dial’s a good father, got some nice boys.”

  “You’re a good father, too. Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself.”

  “You would not believe Billy’s mom. She is a beauty, like, for the ages, and she’s still so in love with Cody. It’s wild to see.”

  “That’s gonna be me and you. Is there room for me on the back of your Harley?”

  “Yes, General. I was thinking I could have a side car installed, give you a bit more room to stretch your legs.”

  John flipped him the bird, but Gabriel just grabbed his hand, pressed it to his mouth. “I love you. Be sweet to me, okay? The last week has nearly killed me, and watching you get beat to shit on YouTube didn’t help.”

  “What pisses me off is that it didn’t even work. It’s true, Ali Bahktar has not stormed the Regency, trying to recapture his prisoners, but the charges have also not been dropped and I got the lamest excuse for an apology you’ve ever heard. I mean, it was supposed to be us, the good guys, against the crazy Salafists. That was what I was going for, trying to make the Tunisians see these two boys, Eli and Daniel, are like their sons, not like some comic book outlines of every wild excess they associate with America. And it didn’t work. Now I’m afraid they’re going to try and make something up to justify what Bahktar did, grabbing them down in Carthage.”

  “Kim has an idea. He thought he better tell you in private, though. Not sure how you’re sharing information.”

  “It’s okay,” John said. “We’re in group problem solving mode, since I can’t seem to problem solve us out of a paper bag.” He looked over at Kim. The boys really were beautiful, he thought, watching them. Abdullah looked like some young Arabian prince, a sheik of the burning sands, black hair and wide smile, so much like his father had looked at his age. John had been half in love with Omar back then, as much for his subtle, quiet mind as for his desert hawk beauty. And Kim had a face so full of light and happiness; no one could look at him and not smile. “Kim, what’s your idea? Can you tell us?”

  He glanced around the table. “Abdullah and I researched the location of the known copies of Al-Jazari’s book. We found six copies, one in the Bodleian at Oxford, one in the National Museum of Ireland, and one at the Met that’s in pieces. Then there is a copy in the rare book collection at the University of Pennsylvania and at UT Austin. There’s a copy, the oldest one, in the museum in Istanbul. The Irish museum is having money problems, and the rare book collection at Pennsylvania is too big, with tons of papers and books still to be catalogued, too much stuff still in boxes, and they are in over their heads. They don’t have the money to hire staff to do the cataloging they need. I wondered if we couldn’t get Dr. al-Salim, who is a pretty famous classics scholar as well as Abdullah’s father, to convince one of these two places to part with their copy for some folding green. Then you two, Daniel and Eli, you can give a gift of the book to the Bardo. As far as I can find, the Bardo has a couple of pages, but not a whole book. There isn’t one in Tunisia. You’re already victims, but this would make you brothers, you know? Brothers to the Tunisian people.”

  John smiled at him across the table. How had Kim intuited his idea about the book from his research assignment?

  “And the best part is Eli and Daniel will get to read the book before they give it as a gift.” Kim looked at Eli. “Maybe that’s a decent first step.”

  “Kim, I’ve been thinking along similar lines myself, but a couple of things may complicate this. The first is that the Minister of Culture for Tunisia just told me to go fuck myself in front of the TV cameras. I’m not sure he and I are in a good place right now. And Omar is not in the best health. It would be hard for him to travel. Do we want to ask him to take on such a job?”

  “I was going to go home and help Father if you wanted to do this, Uncle John.”

  John studied Abdullah for a moment. “I need you, though, Abdullah, now you’re here. Jen has been trying to call the Ministry of Justice, find out who is holding the passports and who is going to make a decision about the charges. We’re not getting very far. I think it would help to have a man, and a native speaker, making some of those calls and sounding as arrogant and pissed off as you can. Also, Sam has made a map of all the relatives we’ve been able to identify for Ali Bahktar, but the Bedu names are making things difficult. If you could work with him to identify any known relatives and help translate the names, that would be a great help.”

  “Why do we need his relatives?” Daniel propped his casted hand on the table, and John could see his fingers were purple and swollen. “We’re not gonna take somebody hostage, are we?”

  “Of course not.” John pushed his plate away. “We’re going to bring balance back to the Force, per your request. Don’t forget information is the most critical
tool for the warrior-philosopher. And you never know what might be the critical piece.” He studied the table for a moment. “Kim, this is a real possibility. Maybe I can ask Omar if he can reach out to his contacts, just get a feel for the situation. He could do that over the telephone. I would love to bring a copy of the book here.”

  Daniel raised a hand again. “It wouldn’t seem like the rich Americans trying to buy their way out of trouble and using looted Arab treasure to do it?”

  “That might be a valid concern, Daniel, if we weren’t sure how the book we got landed in Ireland or America in the first place.” Gabriel stood up. “Maybe David Painter can call in a few favors from the Navy and get an aircraft carrier parked off the coast of Carthage. Then I could steal a chopper, fly you guys over to sickbay and get some X-rays, a check-up.” John thought Gabriel’s voice sounded a bit wistful at this, especially stealing a chopper.

  “Hey, I’m game,” Daniel said. “I wanted to be a helo pilot,” he said, “fly Blackhawks like my granddad across the Mekong Delta. But I went Ranger instead.”

  “You were born with rotors in your blood,” Gabriel said.

  “I don’t need sickbay.” Eli said. “But I’ll go for a ride with you if you’re handing out rides. Do you really have a hot air balloon?”

  “Yes, I do,” he said. “My favorite part of living in Albuquerque.” He nodded to Wylie. “Wylie, let’s you and me walk the perimeter and talk about security. John, I think we need to just take the whole fourth floor. Let Sam negotiate a fair price so Painter doesn’t have a stroke.”

  The party broke up, and Kim came up to John. “I have another idea, too, but it may be too radical even for me.”

  “How’s Billy?”

  “He’s good. He wanted to come, but we were in the middle of a project at home, so he agreed to stay and finish it.” John could feel the blood drain from his face at the thought of trying to protect young Billy in wild Tunisia. “He would have been a help, though. You know how good he is with makeup and costumes. But I’ll take care of disguises if we need them.”

  Disguises? Good God. “I don’t have a plan that requires disguises at this time.”

  “Oh well,” Kim said. “We can keep it as a contingency.”

  John pulled him over to a corner. “I’m not going to make an issue about you being here right now, as long as you comply with everything I tell you to do. You will jump when I say jump, and you will not do anything to put these people or this mission in danger, do you understand?”

  “Of course I understand.” John could see that feelings had been hurt, but this was a critical point.

  “There are times for discussion and times for action. These guys are all military, except Jen, and she will do what I tell her. I need to know you and Abdullah understand that there may not be time for explanations, and if I tell you to do something, you will do it, no questions, no hesitation. Otherwise you will put us all in danger.”

  “Yes, Uncle John. I understand. I came because I believed I could offer some help. If it appears I am making the situation more difficult or more dangerous, I will leave.” He turned around and walked out of the restaurant, his back ramrod straight.

  Abdullah was watching him from across the table. He came over, his face hesitant. “Uncle John? Are you mad? I couldn’t let him come by himself.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s bored, you know. He doesn’t really care about photography. He thinks it’s a tool, right? It’s like, he’s looking around for work that means something.”

  “I guess we all do, Abdullah.”

  “No, not like that. He’s like you. He burns for it.”

  “What do you mean? He burns for what?”

  “For America.”

  Chapter 18

  SAM peeled off to sequester the entire fourth floor for their use. If more nephews arrived, John thought they might actually need the beds. Looking at the glum faces of the staff, though, they were close to the only people staying in the Regency. He had not seen anyone else, not in the pool or the restaurant. “Jen.” She looked back at him. “You guys divide the bedrooms up any way you want, but I want Daniel and Eli to stay in the second bedroom of my suite.”

  Daniel pushed the button for the elevator with his cast. “How come? You don’t think anybody’s going to come in here and try anything?”

  “I would give it a 75 percent chance you’re safe here. I want you both where I can get to you quickly. If you need to PT, take security with you.” He glanced at Eli. The boy was looking tired again. “And maybe Green. He needs a gentle walk in the halls. Something easy.”

  Eli looked up. “Hey! I can PT!”

  “Okay, then. Get to it.”

  “General, you don’t think we could go out to the ruins again, do you? Is it too dangerous? Kim and Abdullah, they haven’t been there, and I didn’t get to explore like I wanted.”

  John did not give voice to his first thought, which was Give me a fucking break, Hannibal! The boy must have seen something in John’s face, though, because he grinned up at the ceiling. “Okay! Maybe not!”

  “Let me think about how we could do that safely, Eli.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Back upstairs, and the kids were chattering like a flock of parrots, dividing up rooms and looking at mind maps and playing on their computers. John knew Gabriel would be speaking with the team again, getting a feel for everyone, identifying their strengths. He took his tablet, went into the bedroom to send some e-mails. He owed David Painter a detailed update. He’d been delaying it, because what he wanted was to dash off a quick note telling the man situation resolved, everyone safe. Instead, he’d turned this into a siege at a thousand-dollar-a-night hotel! Thank God Gabriel was here. He stuck his head out the door. “All of you, leave me in peace for a couple of hours. Don’t leave the fourth floor unless there’s a crisis and the buddy system is in effect, and you better be able to explain to me the crisis.”

  “Yes, sir,” drifted to him from various parts of the room. He closed the door, climbed back on the bed and propped the tablet on his knees. Okay, David. He pulled up Painter’s e-mail. David, the boys are with me, in the Regency in Carthage. They still have blasphemy charges hanging over their heads and their passports are gone. What is complicating my decision to grab them and run is that Green was hurt badly in prison. Hurt in a way that will haunt him if we don’t do this right. He is American down to his bones. He believes in justice and fairness and he believes in the good hearts of men and he believes we can fix this. I want you to give me a couple more days to try and figure out a way we can exit Tunisia with grace and decorum. I have a couple of contacts at the embassy, and they are providing security. Jen is helping with media relations and communications. I will brief you tomorrow.

  It didn’t take long before the answer came. John was too tired to figure out the times zones, but he thought Painter was up in the middle of the night.

  Shit, John, just give the kid some antiretrovirals and let him talk to a shrink when he gets home. I asked you to get the boys out of jail. That job is done so quit screwing around. It’s not my fault you’re bored writing articles about Cuba.

  Oh, fucking hell! He hadn’t thought of antiretrovirals. He answered: The job was getting them home, not out of jail. Your problem, David, is that you always went for the fast solution, not the right solution. Now is not the time to take the easy way out. John stopped, took a couple of breaths, then erased the last couple of sentences. Learn patience, David. Remember what Yoda said—Anger, fear, aggression; the dark side of the Force are they. If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny.

  John lay down, his head sinking into a pillow so soft and lush it was a joy. He knew David would be close to stroking out over the Yoda reference, and he wondered when he had become so childish this thought pleased him. Then he rolled up out of bed and opened his bedroom door. “Eli.”

  The boy came over, fatigue clouding his eyes. “Sir?”

&nb
sp; “The bottles of antibiotics the doctor gave you. You know where they are?”

  “Yeah, I’ll get them.” He brought back three bottles, stood in the doorway of John’s room looking at the labels. “Okay, we got cephalexin and ibuprofen and zidovudine. What’s zidovudine?”

  “Let’s look it up.” John pulled the tablet around, typed the name into a search engine.

  Eli leaned over, reading the entry. “Is that….” He stopped suddenly, his face blanching. “This is the new one. His father just brought it today.”

  “Probably don’t need it, but let’s just go ahead to be safe, okay?”

  Eli blinked hard, stared up at John like he’d just been punched in the stomach. “Sir, that’s not…. Oh, God. I never even thought about this. I mean….”

  “Take it easy, kiddo. I’m glad Dr. Shakir thought about it. I was going to call him and ask him to track some down if he hadn’t brought any. I bet this drug wasn’t easy to find in Tunis.”

  Kim knocked on the door, stuck his head inside. Eli stuffed the bottles down into the pockets of his jeans. Kim watched him, his face neutral, then glanced at John. “Eli, have you ever seen one of the elephant clocks working?”

  Eli stared at him, confused. “Working? What do you mean? I’ve only seen them on the pages of the book. You mean somebody tried to build one?”

  “Yep. Tried and succeeded! I’ve got a video of the working clock up on YouTube! Want to come see?”

  “Oh, yeah!”

  John reached for Kim’s arm. “Where’s Gabriel?”

  “I don’t know. Do you need him?”

  “When he’s done. Will you keep an eye on Eli please?”

  “Yep.”

  John went back to the bed and lay down, listened to the shouts and excited voices coming from the boys listening to Kim’s video. Gabriel stuck his head in the door a few minutes later. “John, you need to come see this.”