The Chi Rho Conspiracy

by Rene Fomby

  The waiter looked completely apologetic. “Well, sir, technically it is legal. But lately, the Arab Spring, it has slowly become more of an Arab Summer, a summer of religious—how do you Americans say it?—hot heads. Militants, like the people in ISIS. Not a lot of them, but all very violent. Some of the liquor stores here, they were told they had to close their doors or move away. Not by the government, but by the militants, the religious activists. When one of the store owners refused and met them out in front of his shop with a shotgun, they grabbed the gun and beat him to death with it, then burned down the store and his house. His family barely escaped with their lives, and the other liquor store owners quickly got the message and closed up their shops for good. Now the militants have been going from restaurant to restaurant, demanding that we stop selling alcohol, as well. And we have no choice. None of us can risk standing up to them.”

  Gavin was completely stunned to hear about any of this. He had been receiving regular weekly briefings on all of the countries surrounding Morocco and had ordered up a special briefing on Tunisia just before he and Andy had left on this trip, and none of this had ever come up. Things were evidently getting much dicier in North Africa than anyone back home suspected. “No, I understand completely. But is there something else you might suggest, something cold if you have it?”

  The waiter glanced to his left and right, then leaned in conspiratorially. “If you don’t mind moving to that booth in the very back, I might have something special tucked away that you could try. A Tunisian specialty.”

  “Sounds great, I’ll give it a go.” Gavin stood up and sauntered over to the booth, sitting with his back to the rest of the bar, effectively shielding whatever might be placed in front of him from the sight of anyone passing by the bar. In a few minutes the waiter returned with a shot glass and small clear bottle, white with frost.

  “It’s called boukha,” the waiter explained. “It’s a type of Tunisian vodka made from figs. It originally came from the Jewish festivals, which used to be common in Tunisia. This bottle is called Boukha l’Oasis, and it’s made by an old Tunisian Jewish family in the original style. Sometimes people drink it straight up, but others like to water it down with pear juice or apple juice. I can get you some of that if you’d like.”

  “That would be super. Thanks. Pear juice, if you have it.” Gavin picked up the bottle to give it a closer look. The bottle had a deep red metallic cap, and a white label covering most of the front, featuring an oasis scene with a camel and its rider tucked under a stand of palm trees. He opened the bottle and poured out a small amount into his shot glass. Holding it up to his nose, he took a sniff. Just like normal vodka, it didn’t really have much of a smell, other than the distinctive tang of alcohol. He took a tentative sip, expecting to find some hint of figs, but the drink was surprisingly smooth, like any high quality vodka or white tequila. He set the glass down just as the waiter returned with a larger glass and a small pitcher of pear juice.

  “Here you go, sir.” The waiter set the glass and pitcher down in front of Gavin. “I hope you enjoy it. But, if you don’t mind, please keep the bottle out of sight as much as you can. We don’t need any extra attention …”

  “No, absolutely,” Gavin agreed, smiling up at him. “And thank you. This is a special treat. I’ve never heard of this drink before, but it’s delicious.”

  The waiter returned the smile and moved off, leaving Gavin alone with his pear cocktail. He was so engrossed with studying the bottle that he never noticed Andy sneaking up from behind and sliding into the booth directly across from him.

  “Whatcha got there, sailor?” she asked, picking up his glass and giving the drink a sip.

  “It’s a local form of vodka, made from figs. What do you think?”

  “You can’t really taste it all that much,” she noted, taking another sip. “Just tastes like pear juice to me. What led you to try this? You’re usually a beer drinker.”

  Gavin explained everything he had learned from the waiter while Andy tried a sip of the boukha straight up. “Not bad, if you go in for this kind of thing. I’d prefer a good Viognier, but when in Rome, right?”

  “Yeah, it sure beats nothing, especially after the day we’ve just had.” Gavin jerked his head back toward their room. “That was a short nap. You feeling any better?”

  “Not really. But I couldn’t seem to settle down enough to fall asleep. Still a little wound up from dealing with Don Juan and friends, I guess. That could have gone south in a hurry, but I was sure impressed with how well you managed things back there. You’re a pretty good man to have covering your backside in a fight.”

  Gavin waved it off. “Wasn’t much of a fight, going all weak-kneed and handing over all our cash. But if we’d had anything more serious than those two little toy pistols, I might have considered putting that whole sorry lot out of business permanently. You realize, by the way, that they might just be camped out at the very same army base in Remada we’re headed to in the morning.”

  “That’s a bridge we can cross when we get to it. No use fretting over problems we don’t have, when we’ve got more than enough troubles staring us right in the face.” Andy started to take another sip of the boukha-pear cocktail, then thought better of it and set the glass back down. “And the next few days promise to be the most dangerous of this entire mission, so it would probably be a smart idea to keep our wits about us at all times. You never know what kind of danger might be lurking just around the corner.”

  “Right,” Gavin agreed. “And I’m not all that happy about being stuck out here so far removed from the safety of the big city, or whatever you’d call Tataouine. Sometimes it’s just a whole lot easier to hide out in a bigger crowd.” He pushed the glass away from him and waved for the waiter to bring the bill. “So, it’s hotter than hell out there and we’ve still got hours to go before dinnertime. You can’t nap, and I agree with you that getting drunk is a bad idea. Any ideas on what a moon-struck honeymoon couple might do to kill the time in this crazy town? Other than what’s illegal?”

  “Hmm.” Andy stopped to consider it. “I am pretty hungry right about now, and I checked, but the restaurant here is closed up tight until dinnertime. So I suppose we could get the Jeep and head back into town for a short bite, maybe get the tires looked at while we’re at it. Then check out whatever tourist traps this hot little town has to offer. Hopefully some place that’s air conditioned.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Gavin handed the waiter the bottle of boukha and a twenty dinar note, telling him to keep the change, then stood up and reached out a hand, helping Andy out of the booth. “Why don’t we blow this little pop stand, shweetheart?”

  44

  Tataouine

  The permits that would get them into the desert south of Remada had arrived while they were out exploring, just as Hamdi had promised. Gavin thanked Oussama for keeping the permits safe and handed over a nice tip, knowing that, in the Arab world, good tipping was a well-rewarded practice.

  Back in their room, Gavin looked over the permits to make sure everything was in order while Andy cleaned up for dinner in the small attached bathroom. He called out to her through the closed bathroom door. “Hey, Andy! I’m pretty thirsty from all that driving around, so I’m going to walk down to the restaurant ahead of you and get something to drink. You want me to order something for you?”

  “Sure,” came her voice from the other side of the door. “A Diet Coke if they have it. Or that drink you ordered me in Matmata if they don’t. I’ll just be a second.”

  “Take your time. We have all night. Your key is lying on top of the bed. I’ll lock the door behind me when I leave.”

  “Thanks. See ya in a sec.”

  Gavin headed down the short hall toward the front of the hotel, whistling a little tune under his breath. As he made the left turn toward the front of the hotel, he pulled up short. Boss man and his cronies were crowded around the front desk, talking to Oussama, who was eagerly
pointing the opposite way. Gavin ducked back, hoping he hadn’t been detected, and swiftly retraced his steps to the room.

  Andy was just putting on her shoes as he slipped through the door, locking it quickly behind him.

  “We’ve got company, Andy. Our military friends from the highway must have seen our Jeep parked out front, and they appear to be on the lookout for us. I saw Oussama telling them we were staying on the other side of the hotel, but the fact that they’re interested in our whereabouts can’t be a good thing.”

  Andy was on her feet instantly. “Why would they care about us? They already took everything we had.”

  “Yeah, and now they realize that we somehow held out on them. Otherwise how could we have gotten the tires fixed so quickly and managed to check into a hotel? They seemed pretty pissed from the short look I got of them.” His eyes scanned the room. “Okay, we’ve got to move fast before they figure out Oussama sent them on a wild goose chase. Help me shove the dresser in front of the door. That’ll hold them up a bit and buy us some time.” He opened the one window in the room and stuck his head out for just a second, glancing left and right for any sign of trouble. “Looks clear. But let me go first, just in case. You hand me the bags through the window, then climb through yourself.”

  In seconds they were both standing outside. Gavin made sure to close the window, just to create an extra bit of confusion that might buy them another minute or so. He motioned soundlessly for her to follow him as he led the way around the side of the hotel and toward the front.

  “We’re in luck,” he whispered, risking a short glance around the corner at the small parking area. “Just one guy left behind to guard the Jeep.”

  “Is he armed?” Andy asked under her breath.

  “Yeah, but just one AK-47, so we have a chance. Problem is, if we come out blasting, we’ll have the whole gang down on our asses before you can say Jack Sprat.” He stopped for a second, rubbing his jaw. “So, Andy, when you mentioned earlier today that you were trained in hand-to-hand combat, was that for real? Can you handle yourself in a scrape?”

  Andy nodded. “Sure. I even think I could give you a run for your money. But hand-to-hand is one thing. Hand-to-gun is another.”

  “Right.” Gavin passed her the smaller of their two bags. “So listen up, here’s the plan.”

  ※

  Andy walked up to the guard casually, swinging the pink carry-on suitcase lightly from side to side. Her blouse was unbuttoned scandalously, down almost to her navel in the front. The guard raised his gun, glancing briefly toward the front of the hotel as if he was unsure of what to do.

  “Do you speak English?” she asked daintily. “Would you mind being a sweetheart and help me load my suitcase into my car?”

  Andy wasn’t at all sure whether he understood what she said, but as she lifted the case lightly in her right hand, his eyes darted quickly to the suitcase, to her pink lace bra and breasts, then back to her face, now only a little more than three feet away. Then, without warning, Andy leaped forward, grabbing the handle of the case with both hands and swinging it in a short but powerful arc toward the tip of the rifle. The impact tore the gun from the guard’s hands and sent it clattering off to his right, just as she stepped up and planted one well-aimed kick into his groin, followed by an uppercut to his jaw as he crumpled over in pain. The guard slumped to the ground, instantly unconscious.

  Gavin was at her side in a flash. He snatched up her suitcase and tossed it into the back of the Jeep, along with the second case he was carrying. As she searched the guard for ammunition, he retrieved the rifle and threw that into the Jeep as well.

  Rubbing the knuckles of her right hand and checking behind her to make sure they hadn’t yet alerted the crowd inside, she pointed toward the army trucks parked off to the side. “Why don’t we take one of those?” she asked. “I’m sure they’d be much better equipped than this Jeep for protecting us in case they come after us, looking for a firefight.”

  “Yeah,” Gavin agreed. “But how would we explain pulling up in an army truck to the guards at Remada? One that I’m sure they would immediately recognize?” He paused for a second to consider their options. “Regardless, we do need to put these trucks out of commission.”

  “Shoot the tires?” she suggested.

  “Nope. Too noisy.” He raced to the front of the first truck, reaching under the hood for the latch. The hood popped open, and he leaned inside, grabbed something and pulled. Satisfied, he repeated the procedure with the second truck, then raced back to the Jeep and started the engine. In seconds they were flying down the road toward Remada.

  “What was that all about?” Andy asked. “What did you just do to those trucks?”

  “It’s an old Special Forces trick I picked up from a movie I once watched as a kid. I tore out the distributor wires. It’ll be days at best before they ever get those trucks back in operation.”

  Andy looked at him curiously. “You learned all that from a Special Forces movie? And what movie was that, might I ask?”

  Gavin glanced over at her with a broad grin on his face. “Oh, I think you may very well have seen it. It’s an old Oscar Hammerstein musical. You know. The Sound of Music.”

  45

  Remada, Tunisia

  Pulling into Remada an hour later, they headed straight south along the main road. Since the military exclusion zone was located south of town, Gavin reasoned that the military base would be located in that direction as well. And he was right.

  They considered trying to book a hotel for the night, but given the fact that they very likely had two truckloads of now-truckless men hot on their heels, Gavin figured it might be safest to stay on a tight timetable.

  Gavin parked the Jeep just outside the main gate, jumped down to the ground and turned to face Andy. “Okay, here’s the deal. I’m going in to make sure everything is on the up-and-up, and that our friends back there didn’t call ahead to alert their buddies to grab us. You stay here with the Kalishnikov. Keep it out of sight, but be ready for action if I come blasting out of there and need cover. And you might want to slide over into the driver’s seat, just in case.”

  Andy nodded, throwing a towel over the rifle just behind the passenger seat and hopping over behind the wheel. “Roger that. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that, ‘cause I wouldn’t have a clue how we could possibly escape getting captured under those circumstances. Or worse.”

  “I’m not so sure there is a worse scenario than rotting in a Tunisian prison, but I guess we’ll have to keep all our options flexible.” He leaned in to give her a quick peck on the lips, surprising her.

  “What was that all about?” she asked, visibly bewildered.

  “Just a little kiss for luck,” he said. “Plus, it may wind up being the last kiss I’ll ever get.”

  “Well, in that case, come here,” she ordered. Grabbing Gavin forcefully by the back of his head, she leaned over and planted a long, wet kiss on him. Gavin started to pull away at first, but finally decided to just lose himself in the moment. A particularly delicious moment.

  “Wow!” he moaned when they finally broke the embrace. “What was that for?”

  Andy smiled coyly, noting the small traces of lipstick she had left behind on his face. “I figured, if it’s a kiss for luck you wanted, right now you need all the luck you can get. Plus, I’ve been waiting a long time for the right excuse.”

  Gavin nodded to her, their eyes locked on each other for a brief moment. Then he held up their permits for entrance into the military zone. “Well, no time like the present to find out which way this little gambit is going to end up.” He smiled at her one last time, then turned and calmly sauntered toward the guardhouse, looking for all intents and purposes like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  ※

  The camp commander argued with him for over thirty minutes about granting him access to the desert so late at night.

  “You will get lost, and
we will have to come find you. Absolutely not.”

  Gavin managed to keep his temper in check, and tried to use his limited FBI training in hostage negotiations to his best advantage. And it seemed to be working.

  “Yes, but as I told you, my wife is a university professor. She has a permit to study this ant, who only comes out at night, when the sun is down. Her research is very important.”

  The commander pushed the permits back across the table. “Why have we not been told of this ant, and of her coming? This is very irregular. We just do not let people enter the desert at night. Too dangerous.”

  Gavin bobbed his head slowly. “Look, I don’t know why your superiors failed to notify you that we were coming. The arrangements have been in place for months now. And we have come all this way from America, just to see this damned ant. You can’t just send us back to Tunis empty-handed. Her research may in fact be the key to a new kind of treatment for cancer. It could save a lot of lives.”

  The commander looked exasperated. “I don’t know …”

  Gavin persisted, pressing hard. “And, by the way, our Jeep is equipped with GPS, so we can’t possibly get lost. We know exactly where we’re headed, where these ants are located. Plus, at any rate, the desert is a much safer place at night than it is during the day. Much less chance of our car breaking down from the heat. Or our breaking down, for that matter. So, what do you say? Our papers are all in order. We’ll pop down forty, fifty klicks or so, take some pictures of the stupid ant my wife is so obsessed with, and then we’ll be right back here first thing in the morning.” The guard looked like he was wilting, so Gavin played his final card, glancing down at the guard’s ring finger. “Look man, you’re married, right? Don’t make me have to go out there and tell my wife I wasn’t man enough to get this done. I mean, I got to live with her, you know? So I can’t have her thinking I don’t have the balls to let her take her damn pictures of this stupid ant she’s so all-fired hot and bothered about. Give me a break, man. What do you say?” He pushed the permits back across the table, this time with a hundred dinar note barely showing underneath.