Circle Around the Sun

by M. D. Johnson

  Believing herself to be vitally instrumental in a declaration of war against those who would eliminate the world’s oppressed; Khaled represented the new Arab woman, fearless, proud, educated and well-trained in combat. She answered the call of her leader al-Hakim without question. She recruited terrorists and helped train them. The warriors were her friends; one such man would father her twin sons in the not too distant future. Leila Khaled pledged that as long as there was blood in her veins she would live and die for Palestine. She would say in later years when lecturing students in Europe that she and her comrades “went to Frankfurt with the knowledge that they, the Palestinians, the children of despair, carried the torch of freedom and human liberation on behalf of humanity.” If they failed then “America would have succeeded in reversing the tide of the world revolution.” Her objective, she claimed, “was only to inscribe the name of Palestine on the memory of mankind.”

  Patrick Joseph Arguello was studying for his Masters in Sociology and was himself the son of a noted physician. Arguello was a graduate of UCLA. Like many others, his objective was simply to aid the cause of Palestine’s oppressed. His assignment was to find Leila Khaled, then identified only by the pseudonym “Shadiah”, in Amsterdam. On September 6th, the “Che Guevara Unit” as they would be called, met for the first time in the airport lobby to review their plans. Posing as Spanish nationals they boarded Flight 219 and no one batted an eyelid. When questioned in Spanish at check-in, Leila Khalded whispered a silent prayer as she had no knowledge of the language and said simply “Si” to everyone who addressed her. Coolly and calmly she boarded the plane without problem.

  Leila had positioned two hand grenades, one each in the cups of her brassiere. Arguello was armed with a pistol and a hand grenade. They were supposed to meet three other people. One, a woman, boarded the flight early but the other two were turned back by El-Al security.

  Once on board and ready for take-off, Leila Khaled assessed the other passengers. She glanced at the children, becoming sad because she loved children and had no desire to harm them. She noticed a young red-headed woman in the navy blue suit with oversized sunglasses and typical capitalist Hermes scarf tied loosely around her neck, who appeared to be checking her handbag. The woman, feeling her stare, looked up, smiled and touched the collar of her suit, making the two fingered sign of victory. Surprised, Leila retained her composure, inhaled deeply and whispered her prayer, “Insh’Allah” If God wills it. The time was right.

  Leila noticed that Patrick, sitting next to her in the cramped economy seats was visibly trembling. She told him her real name in order to boost his confidence. He was thrilled to work with a revolutionary celebrity and for a few minutes his panic ceased. Raising his hand in a mock salute of victory, within seconds after takeoff Arguello was out of his seat. Khaled whipped out the hand grenades from under her clothing with amazing speed and coordination as Patrick drew his pistol with his right hand and readied his grenade with his left. They moved now in unison faster than lightening running through the first-class section toward the cockpit entrance followed closely by the redhead in the navy blue suit who was now carrying a Makarov pistol in her hand. “In the name of God, don’t move! Not anyone!” the woman shouted in heavily accented English. First-class passengers dived for cover and Emily Desai, whose eyes were hidden by her large sunglasses, stared unrecognized into the face of Leila Khaled.

  Several stewards now burst through the compartment, plundering forward with pistols aimed at Khaled, who was screaming at a sobbing stewardess who was begging her in Arabic to spare her life. Khaled mimicked pulling the pins from the grenades with her teeth, waving them in the air and convincing the passengers without uttering a word that she would let the grenades loose if she had to. Patrick yelled to her that he had her back covered and moved towards the armed stewards.

  Khaled signaled for the stewardess to get up and walk ahead of her toward the pilot’s cabin. She pounded on the closed door. Then came one single shot, followed by rapid burst of gunfire. The plane lurched and banked to the left forcing Khaled to lose her balance completely.

  The door burst opened and six, maybe seven people ravaged over the terrorist like a pack of starving wolves attacking their prey. Within seconds Khaled was on the floor being punched and kicked, her hair being ripped out of her scalp by all of them as they screamed obscenities at her in Hebrew. She spat at them cursing, biting the hands that held her down. They beat her again and again, her face so bloodied and eyes so damaged that she could no longer see her enemy.

  The red-headed woman in the navy blue suit was quickly led away with her hands tied behind her. There was a tall man in a leather bomber jacket with thick black sunglasses hiding his face holding a gun to her back. Khaled was spun around and dragged into the first class section. The blood oozed from her battered face. Barely standing, she could still recognize Patrick, who was by now weak and bloody from his gunshot wound. The boy was being forced to stand up while being continuously hit in the temple by two Israeli security guards. They turned him around to face her. He looked at her with tears streaming down his face. He had guards on both sides of him now. They tied his arms then kicked him forward. He staggered, looked briefly at his comrade, smiled slowly and mouthed his last goodbye. The Israelis shot him in the back, turning and kicking his limp dead body, laughing and cursing with glee as it jumped in reflex. Khaled painfully crawled to his body, moaning and weeping over him. “Patrick,” she whispered to his distorted, battered body, “You have joined Che in revolutionary love.” She offered his spirit to her hero, Che Guevara, “You are an inspiration to the weak and the oppressed. The Palestinians will build to you monuments in their hearts and in their liberated homeland. I long for the hour of liberation under leaders of your stature and selfless dedication.”

  “Crazy blasphemous bitch!” a guard screamed, “You think your idol is God? Look at her! She’s commending his spirit to the hereafter.” Again she was beaten and then dragged away by three of the guards, rolling against the seats with their blows as the plane prepared to land.

  The plane was diverted to Heathrow Airport, resulting in Leila Khaled becoming the center of an international crisis. When the local police, accompanied by British Intelligence officers boarded the plane, the Israelis went completely berserk. Their screams of protest resonated throughout the plane. “This is our prisoner! This is an affront to the Israeli Government! She must be tried in Israel” The British Police continued to demand her release into their custody. The pilot, hearing the commotion raced down the aisle where Khaled was now seated between two guards, grabbed her, pushed her forward and began viciously kicking her in the kidneys and backside. “Jesus wept! Get that bastard under control, somebody, will you?” an older man’s voice rose above the commotion. For shame’s sake she is in our custody. Leave off now. It’s all over,” he quickly intervened, speaking with a certain authority found only within higher echelon government circles. Colonel Archie Beresford, shocked at their brutality was now quite in control of the situation. His reputation in the intelligence community rested on the small boned and profusely bleeding female now safely in the custody of two burly female Police Constables, Julia Foy and Lynne Roberts. Roberts was an Anglo-African Officer from Liverpool and Foy was originally from Dublin and well used to brawls. Both constables were on police athletic teams, played football, field hockey and were well above average height. They were strong wholesome girls who were becoming decidedly anti-Semitic by the second as they looked at the pitiful broken bundle who until recently had been known as “Leila Khaled, the Terrible Beauty.” The whole bloody airplane crew wouldn’t last five minutes with those two, Beresford smiled to himself. The Khaled girl would be safe with them and they would get her to the local hospital very quickly.

  “She’s a fucking Arab whore. Kill the bitch!” The pilot screamed a string of Hebrew obscenities while attempting to kick Khaled once more in the kidneys as she was led away. “Now just a minute sir, You wouldn’t be wantin
’ my fist in your balls would yer?” leered Constable Foy viciously, “Because if you make one more bloody move, sir, I’ll take pleasure in handcuffing you to the seat, while me mate here gives you a taste of your own sodding medicine, British style. “Don’t worry lass,” she said to Khaled, “you’re safe from the bastards now. Jesus Christ Lynne!” she said, looking at Patrick’s still uncovered body, “did you see what they were doin’ to that poor lad’s body? They’re worse than the bloody Nazi’s. What sort of people are they?”

  “Desperate ones, just like me,” Khaled said, spitting out blood through broken teeth.

  “That’ll be enough from you ‘til we get you to the hospital. C’mon now love, down the steps. Easy does it!” and they led her away to the panda police car awaiting her arrival.

  Khaled looked around for the other woman she had seen on the plane but saw only the door closing on an unmarked Black Austin Healey which quickly sped away.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  Israel’s Institute for Intelligence and Special Tasks, the ha-Mossad le-Modin ule-Tafkidim Meyuhadim has long had the responsibility for collection and dissemination of human intelligence world wide. It specializes in covert action and counter-terrorism and is driven by Israel’s need to survive while totally surrounded by Arab nations. What is not commonly known is that Mossad’s vast intelligence resources are the result of brilliant strategy and clandestine operatives situated in every country around the globe.

  Like the Arabs they are sadly pitted against, they cling to the roots of their ancestral homeland which as a result of their Diaspora are deep and wide. Such operatives can and do maintain alliances with another countries by virtue of citizenship or residency, but there is always first and foremost an ethical and religious responsibility to the preservation of Israel. It is an obligation to one’s ancestry, sanctity of life and moral conscience passed down from mother to child, and this philosophy is the basis of the well positioned and immense network of covert operatives, principally active in the Middle East and throughout Europe.

  Hanna Shavit was a small child when Hitler came to power in Germany in 1933. Born in Germany, her parents recognized the evils of anti-Semitism and as a result were farsighted enough to leave for Tel Aviv in 1934. Hanna was a passionate Zionist and at the age of seventeen she joined the “Lehi”, an organization that declared war on the British using tactics of sabotage and assassination. Founded by Avraham Stern, the organization was committed to creating an independent Jewish State. They believed that the British had no intention of giving up Palestine and maintained that the British had misinformed, backstabbed, and pandered to Arab support against Germany. When a paper was published against Jewish immigration to Palestine, attempting to curb the forming of a sovereign state, a moral issue became abundantly clear, the curtailing of Jewish immigration meant that millions of Jews would fall victims to Nazi Germany.

  Hanna’s first tasks had been to put up posters and distribute leaflets to encourage teenage membership. She adopted the name of Judith, the Jewish Heroine. After specialized training in the handling of guns and explosives, her first mission had been to blow up a railway bridge in Akko to disrupt British transport of military supplies. The mission was a success. Hanna carried out successful covert operations until 1948 when the State of Israel was formerly established and by 1970 she was special counsel to the Director of Mossad, whose identity was always kept secret. But most of all she was close personal friend of Prime Minister Golda Maier. She was also an acquaintance of Emily Desai’s Aunt Yacouta.

  As Hanna Shavit placed a telephone call to her old adversary Archie Beresford, she reminded herself that one always caught more flies with honey than vinegar. She would therefore inquire exactly where Leila Khaled was and why there had been a British operative on the flight without their knowledge who was clearly in league with the terrorists. Who was the woman and where was she now? Shavit’s not unreasonable objective was simply to have the girl killed.

  “My dear Hanna,” Beresford said slyly, “How nice of you to ring.”

  Hanna’s voice had always reminded him of a raspy kettle about to boil, always struggling to get the words out as she exhaled her foul smelling Gaulloise cigarettes.

  “Nicety is not what I’m aiming for Archie. Tell me what the hell you are doing? The Khaled girl belongs to us. The Director has his knickers in a twist and I am, as the Greeks would say, the messenger about to be killed. Tell me what is happening before I smoke myself to an even earlier grave.”

  “Darling Hanna, you were born with a cigarette in your mouth and you are still the only woman I know who smokes while she eats. As for Khaled, she is not under my control. She, as you know was the commando in charge of the operation. As such she is safely in police custody. Frankly the whole thing is a bloody disaster. The PM is under tremendous pressure and,” he added wryly, “you know we can’t capitulate to the demands of terrorists, ahem...of either side, my dear.”

  “Balls, Beresford! Let me tell you what I know for a fact. The United Kingdom formally pledged not to negotiate with high-jackers in 1963 at the Tokyo International Convention. You are about to break your promise to the world. You and I are old foes, Beresford. Don’t bullsheet the bullsheeter, alright? The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine is demanding the release of their fedayeen imprisoned in Germany, Switzerland and Israel. They have hijacked airliners, you know zis already. Archie, come now. Be reasonable! There are fifty-six Americans and Europeans taken hostage. This is the only hijacking that failed. We want her. We want her now. She is the key to the others and who is the mysterious redhead with the Jackie Kennedy hairstyle. A Hermes scarf Beresford? A Kelly bag? A nice touch, I admit. Very classic. But we have pictures, Archie my boy. We know what she looks like and we will find her as well. Tell us now and make life easier for me. I’ve got Golda telling me I must fly to London in a few hours and rectify the situation. You know I hate London. It rains, and my arthritis, Archie, dahling. Don’t make me have to go.”

  ”I know dear, I know,” he said soothingly, “But let me refresh your memory. “David Ben Gurion, your own first Prime Minster said, ‘If I were an Arab leader, I would never sign an agreement with Israel. It is normal, we have taken their country. It is true God promised it to us, but how could that interest them? Our God is not their God. There has been anti-Semitism. The Nazis, Hitler, Auschwitz – but was it their fault? They see but one thing. We have command, we have stolen their country. Why would they accept that?’ Hanna, you yourself were not that far removed from Leila Khaled over twenty years ago. Did we not meet then, when I was a young major protecting your Holy Land? Did I not treat you fairly when I interrogated you? Could you tell me Khaled with her value would come to no harm?”

  “Treat me fairly, Archie? We made love!” she screamed down the phone.

  “You wanted information. Your code name was Judith, after all. I did not want to be your Holfernes. It wasn’t rape, and I recall quite clearly that you seduced me!”

  “You mislead me!” she responded, remembering.

  “But you were, as they say, still a magnificent fuck, old girl. And here we are, older and wiser and this is not a negotiable point, quite apart from the fact that the entire situation is completely out of my control. As for the redhead, not one of ours, my dear,” and he firmly but politely said goodbye. Pressing his intercom he said quite clearly, showing little emotion, “Send Shallal and his little red-headed friend in here, will you?”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  “My dear, the red hair is most becoming. I suppose you have made all the arrangements to get it back to normal?” he asked Emily.

  “Yes Colonel, and then I’ll be leaving with Tony for Germany, after I have seen my parents.”

  “I understand you have decided to close down everything in Heidelberg and your plans are to leave for the United States.”

  “Yes, that is the general idea, sir”

  “Have you decided what you will do?”

  “Study p
robably and perhaps teach. I have a son to raise. One without a father once my divorce is final. Under Arabic law I am already divorced but I will apply for my “degree nisi” here. Once the court receives the application it will be reviewed and I just wait for them to issue the “degree absolute”. There should be no problem. Money certainly isn’t a factor.”

  “Emily, we can use your talents over there as well. You know that!”

  “I will consider that sir, but not yet!”

  Tony Shallal added, “I’ll be attached to the Washington D.C. Station for six months, as you know Colonel. I will keep in touch with her.”

  “You’ve had your little chat with Dr. Morris and young de Crecy then?” Beresford asked Emily as he poured two glasses of sherry and Shall’s customary Scweppes Bitter Lemon..

  “Yes, Colonel. Dr. Morris found me physically and mentally sound but somewhat anemic and de Crecy was too thrilled at his promotion to really pay me any close attention. Rather enjoys all the power over the minions, does he not?

  “Yes, he will be burdensome now that he’s Deputy Charge of Station. It’s not any particular talent, but as you know I am married to his dear Mama and I have to keep the peace, so to speak. I have your debriefing notes and I must say you did an excellent job. Had we not known in advance, many people would have been killed, probably by the Israelis rather than Khaled and ‘Che Unit’. She is of course keeping very tight lipped. Pity she doesn’t work for us. Thank you Emily. I’m afraid there’ll be no awards or recognition. You do understand?” And it was at that point that Emily lost what was left of her reserve.