by Tony Lavely
“Good morning,” Dalila said. “Is everything to your liking?”
“So far, Sheikh. Shall we finish our discussions?”
At the end of the next fifteen minutes, Beckie was convinced that when Dalila had discovered that Ian had died and that Beckie would be taking his place, he’d decided to use her well-known penchant for ‘improving the state of the world,’ as her brother Mike said, and wrangled the scene to get his daughter out of Syria, safe. The foofaraw to Sam about him not dealing with a woman was just that, meaningless blather intended to skew her plans, keep her off-balance. He knew where she stood.
The better question was why did he have the girl here to begin with? And if this contract picked up an ‘escort and protect’ clause, that was okay, but was there a reason aside from the obvious? You know, girl, sometimes the obvious is sufficient. Yeah, she answered herself, but that don’t mean there ain’t more there.
“Where will you take my daughter?” was Dalila’s final question.
“Between you, the Captain, her and myself, I’m taking her to my home, since we decided at breakfast she has no better place. We four and my two pilots are the only ones who will know this, so I will be able to track back leaks. Once she steps off the plane there, she will be… Sorrel, my best friend’s sister, looking for some safe relaxation. Or some equivalent background story. Have you visited the Nest?” He nodded. “Then you know the facility. I’ll charge you less if I damage or misplace her… unless you’re responsible, of course.”
“You cut me to the quick!” His protest was just a little too… hasty for Beckie’s liking; she reminded herself that her lack of trust in the man was fully to blame.
Without the cargo, seating in the truck was easier to find, though Sam demanded that Beckie and Solène ride inside his truck. The rest of the team found places in their usual manner, based on the speed and lack of conversation. Before mounting up, Beckie had helped Solène wriggle her way into body armor that was just a little too big; they dragged the robe back on over it. When Sam looked over the scenery, he said, “Helmets on. Be ready for anything.”
Solène’s eyes widened once again as both Sam and Gillian removed their weapons and made ready to use them, should the need arise. Beckie reached behind the seat and dragged out the assault rifle she’d left there the day before.
Ben drove Sam’s truck; Jimmy handled the one with the rest of the team. Ben was number one, carrying the commander.
“I have a funny feeling about this,” Beckie said to Sam over the sound of the engine.
“Me, too, Mrs. Jamse.”
For two hours, the ride was the same bouncy-bounce that she’d enjoyed driving to the base, except that the truck’s suspension was now unloaded; she felt every bump in high definition. The source of her malaise became evident as Ben approached the wreck they’d left on the way south. A bullet pinged its way through the cab of the truck just over Solène’s head; Beckie saw the hole appear as it exited, and shoved the girl to the floor, enforcing the command with her feet.
“Where from?”
Sam pointed out the back. Three BTR-152 armored scout cars were sweeping in from the other side of the hill; machine guns blazing. “Not very accurate, are they,” Beckie said.
Sam pointed to the saucer-sized hole. “No need.”
Oh yeah. No armor here. Solène tried to push off the floor, but Beckie shoved her back down. “I’ll tell you when to get up!”
The attacking vehicles—Beckie could now see that only two of them were BTRs, the third was a pick-up much like the team’s—began to form a line parallel to Ben’s line of travel, but as they did, the center one, the second scout vehicle, jumped in the air exactly like Sam’s had when the IED went off. Don’t have friends, those little bombs.
The vehicle plowed its nose in the sand, one of its wheels askew. Four or five people leapt or fell out, but the action moved away until their pick-up turned back to them. “That evens the odds a little,” Sam said, and clapped Ben on the shoulder. “If you planned that, well done!”
He thumbed his mike on. “We’ll never outrun them, and the odds are as good as they’ll get, so on my mark, turn and stand ready.” He spent seconds watching the scenery, until Ben careened around a rockfall at the foot of a small cliff. “Three…” Beckie watched him ticking time off on his fingers as he waited for Jimmy to pass the rocks, too. “… two… Mark!”
Ben pitched the truck around; abrupt didn’t begin to describe the turn. Beckie grabbed at the seat as she flew into the door. Her impact bent the sheet metal under the window, and the latch mechanism gave just enough to warn her not to do that again. The truck lurched to a stop; Sam was out the front door and finding cover in the rocks. The guys from Jimmy’s truck were doing the same. Beckie forced the door open and, grabbing Solène’s foot, dragged her out to land on the ground face down. “Up! We’ll get…” She made the fastest survey of a site she’d done in a very long time. “… up there, between those rocks.”
Solène was on her feet and running as soon as Beckie pointed. As she followed the girl, she gave a quick wave to Sam, catching him in a glance to see what she was doing.
The attacking BTR slid around the rocks. More rounds were fired; Beckie kept her head down as she threw herself into the niche. She landed on Solène’s back; the girl twisted, then pulled Beckie further in.
“You’re bleeding!”
Beckie reached where Solène was pointing, toward her cheek. Her hand felt warm and sticky, and when she looked at it, more than a little blood covered her fingers. “Can you see?”
Solène sat up, but Beckie shoved her back into the rocks. “Down! It’ll wait. You okay?”
“Yeah, except my lip where you smashed me into the ground,” Solène said, but the note of humor in her voice pushed Beckie’s worries about that away. Still, she could see the blood oozing from the girl’s split lip.
“Sorry. Just keep your head down.” She smacked her butt. “And your ass, too!” She wriggled around to grin up at Solène’s face, propped on a small boulder six inches above her. “It will be so much fun training you so you can keep yourself alive.”
She dug the assault rifle out from underneath her belly and wiggled to a vantage point from which she could see what was happening and how she could influence events.
The BTR was still, doors open and at least one tire shot out. Its machine guns were silent and she couldn’t hear the engine. Three bodies lay as still as the BTR; two others were in the rocks. It looked like Millie was working on one while… Gillian had her rifle aimed to protect the doctor. The Chief had the second opponent face down with a pistol in the back of his neck.
Sam made a motion at the side of his helmet. Fuck! I knew that! She touched the switch on the intercom.
“… that other truck. I can hear it.”
Ben’s voice went silent as the pick-up that had turned back slewed around the turn. It almost hit the BTR, but swerved to prevent that collision. Unfortunately, the driver hadn’t learned his lesson; he drove straight into the back of Jimmy’s truck.
The impact jarred both vehicles, but did no apparent damage. Men swarmed out of and off the pick-up, running to take what little cover they could while taking pot shots at the team. Sam waited only until their hostile intent was confirmed, then ordered, “Defend!”
For a few seconds, Beckie’s attention was taken by the fight below; she prayed that none of her guys were getting injured… Or dead!
A squeal snatched her attention back to her primary job. Two attackers were at the foot of the rockfall she’d sent Solène up. When they noticed her, their weapons—Just like the one I have!—came up. “Down!” she screeched, but Solène was as well covered as was possible.
The shorter of the two men said something, but Arabic was still not Beckie’s second language. She fired a short burst over their heads, pleased that controlling the gun proved less difficult than the one she’d trained with. The burst went closer to their heads than she intended; the men s
lid back to lie on the ground. One of them could have been shaking, but that didn’t make sense.
“Stay down!” Beckie didn’t care if Solène and the two men all thought it applied to them; that would be fine. Without taking her gaze from the men, she wondered how Sam and the guys were doing.
A shot rang out; the splintered rock hit her. She hadn’t felt the first cut, but these shards sliced the side of her face from jaw to hairline; she flinched away, but recovered before the two men could take advantage. A short burst—sounds like mine—then silence. Well, except for the hollering. Wonder who that is?
A hand touched her arm. Even knowing it had to be Solène, she started. “What?”
“Captain’s trying to get your attention.”
“Tell him… No, stay down. What the fuck is going on?”
“Someone’s coming, I think.”
Good guy or bad? She didn’t voice the worry.
In a minute, Sam followed Imad and Shorty as they came up behind the two men on the ground, and immobilized them. Sam looked around once again, then waved Beckie down. He muttered something to himself, then hollered, “Get Doc Ardan; Mrs. Jamse’s all over blood.”
“It’s okay, Sam, Flesh wounds, no more. Okay, Solène, now you can get up.” The clatter behind her warned her just before the girl hit her in the back with a reverse hug that, except for the armor, might have cracked a rib.
“Thank you so much… He was after me.” Solène’s finger was shaking as she pointed at the shorter man, the one who’d tried to speak.
“What! Why?”
“He and my father have been arguing for weeks. He wants me for one of his wives. My hair… and body, too, I guess.”
That’s not hard to believe. “So really, we’re saving you from him?”
“Partly. Mostly, in truth.”
“Fuck! And he can’t be bothered to tell us…”
They’d reached the bottom of the rock fall. “Sam, tell me everyone’s okay, please.”
“Yes. Full account after the Doc’s finished with you.”
“Fuck that! Tell me now; she can work as long as she doesn’t get in the way.”
Millie reached Beckie, grabbed her shirt and thrust her over to a handy stone. “Sit there and be quiet,’ she ordered. “Listen, as long as you can do it without moving. I’ll ask Shakti to have the plastic guy meet you.”
“Whatever for?” She twisted away from Millie’s hand. “Tell me, Sam. Ooof!” as Millie grasped her hair and yanked her back into position.
“Love to see two strong ladies… feeling each other out, so to speak,” Sam said with a laugh. His next words were serious. “Stacy has a graze on her upper thigh that the Doc says will heal after a week or so. A couple bruises from slipping in the rocks.” He paused, and Beckie wanted to face him, tell him to get on with it. “Gillian’s checking the trucks, but I think they’re okay.” He moved around behind Millie so she could see him when Millie stood just right.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“Shut up! This one goes through, so…”
Goes through what?
“Attackers,” Sam said. “Five dead. One, bullet hole through the shoulder. The rest… we’ll need more restraints, I’m afraid.” He paused, then spoke into his mike, “Imad, you done there? Be right with you.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Jamse,” Solène said.
Beckie pushed Millie’s hand away. “One second, Millie, this is important.” She grabbed Solène’s robe and pulled her close. “Unless you sent these guys, there’s no need for you to apologize. And I won’t accept your apology on your father’s behalf; he’ll have to do it himself.” She released Solène’s robe and Millie’s hand; the doctor went back to work.
“I know, but…”
Beckie waved her free hand: no matter. As she did, Sam returned. “Imad’s been talking to the ones we’ve restrained, and… I don’t know how to say this…” Millie moved to Beckie’s side to work on her ear, and she could see Sam’s furtive glance at Solène.
“Let me say it, then,” Beckie got out before Millie jumped.
“I give up! Say it!”
“Thanks, Millie. Doctor. Solène believes these guys were sent to take her back to some sheikh or someone who’s enamoured of her beautiful blonde hair and her exquisite body. That what they’ve been saying?”
“Without the adjectives, yeah.”
“No accounting for lust, is there?” When he shook his head, she continued, “What are the odds that’s the real story?” She touched Millie’s hand. “Go ahead, I’ll be still. I promise.”
Millie snorted her derision, but went back to work with swab and needle.
Sam had been concentrating on her question; he looked up and said, “I wouldn’t give odds either way. It’s not out of the question… You’ve dealt with Bedouins, right? Who have a history of raiding to find wives. But… there are so many other sides to this conflict… And as soon as the Doc’s finished, we’ve got to get moving. If Gillian says…” His voice faded as he hiked away.
“Before you ask, five or ten minutes,” Millie said. “Solène… I’m going to ask you… since I expect you two to be joined at the hip for the next few days, anyway… to keep watch on Beckie’s face, for any redness or puffiness. Might mean infection. That wouldn’t be good. I doubt that she’ll worry much about it, but I want to save as much as possible of her looks for the plastic surgeon.”
“What for? My social calendar is… empty would be too kind.”
“Not forever, is my guess.”
“That’s… I don’t know what to say to that, Millie.” She stood up. “I’ll never forget Ian.”
“Not forgetting Ian doesn’t mean you lock yourself away. Ian would want that least of all.”
“I have work to do. Let’s go, Solène.”
“Okay,” the girl said, scrambling to her feet. “Do you really think I wasn’t the reason for this?” She waved at the trucks and bodies.
“Do you really want to be?” The girl’s wide eyes answered that. “I don’t know. It seems too, contrived… phony, for want of a better word. I don’t understand it, and so I don’t trust it. Men are always hard to figure out except for sex and food. I can put your obvious attraction to the other gender aside, and say, well, is that really enough to send out, what, fifteen guys and three vehicles? Valuable men and equipment.” She reached to scratch her face, but Solène’s squeal stopped her.
“Don’t! Even I know that.”
“Yes, Mom. Seriously. I may have Gillian take you just so I can lick my wounds in peace.” To distract herself, she settled the helmet on her head, then pulled it off for an examination. “Ah, that’s it.” She pulled a rock shard out of the intercom radio. “Explains why I didn’t hear anything. Anyway, their estimates of our capability were wrong, unless they wanted the force disposed of… But there are still too many options. Sam!” They came up to the truck where he was standing, talking to Gillian and Imad.
He turned. “A second,” he said as he turned back to Imad. When Imad finished his conversation on the phone, in Arabic, Beckie guessed, he nodded to Sam, who turned back to Beckie. “Sorry. Imad’s been talking to Sheikh Dalila who says disable their trucks and leave them here. He’ll get over in time to give the bodies a ritual burial, and he’ll take care of the others.”
“Good. I wasn’t sure just how we’d transport all of them, and I do want to get back to the plane. Anything else he’s admitting to?”
“No clue why we were attacked. Astonishment that they would claim that Ms Solène is involved in any way, with or without her knowledge. Imad said he sounded sincere, but who knows. I didn’t mention that she said the same thing.” He took a longer gaze at the bandages Millie had apparently swathed her face in. “You going to be okay?”
“You’re not worried about my looks too, are you? I’ll be fine. Believe me. Too much to do, otherwise.” She tapped the helmet. “Need to get a new radio for this. I pulled a rock out, but I don’t think even Jimmy can fix
it.”
The rest of the trip was hot, dusty and boring, although Beckie was happy with the boring part, having had two instances of terrifying to contrast. Solène slept most of the way, and Sam was worried about other things, so Beckie was left to contemplate the mysteries of life in Homs, Syria, and what her little team could possibly have held that would attract the attention they did. Besides Solène. Chasing after her with an armed force seemed a bit too… old world. Or last century, she snorted, causing Sam to give her a questioning look before going back to watching for attacks in any form.
Beckie caught Sam before Ben told her she and Solène should board the truck back to Turkey. “I talked to Millie a little more, and she can carry the conversation with the sheikh, but the top line is that I want to see a medical facility, or a section of the one he told us about, allocated for kids. Injured, lost, orphaned, whatever. Up to eighteen. We’ll make sure the staff and supplies will support the demand.”
Sam choked back something that Beckie thought might be a sob, but of course, Sam wouldn’t cry over doing the right thing. He recovered in a moment, however, and said, “That sounds like… a welcome use of resources, Mrs. Jamse.”
“Yeah.” She gave him a knowing smile. “Gillian and Ben told me about the shop you set up so the doctors could treat some of the kids. Thanks, Sam.” She leaned in and hugged him.
“You gonna reassign me now?” A quizzical smile accompanied his question.
“Not til you ask, Sam, not til you ask.”
“Beckie!” Solène’s voice came from outside the tent. “Ben… I think it’s Ben, says we should be going, like, now.”
“Be right there, Solène.” She looked up into Sam’s eyes. “I mean it, Sam. Thanks for the work you’re doing. Be safe, please.”
He placed his hand against her back to help her through the opening. “I will, Beckie. You be safe, too.”
Before boarding the plane, Beckie had stripped all the bandages from her face—she now knew where the one went through—and chivied Solène to a mall in the Turkish city near the airport where she could obtain clothes… not completely appropriate to the Nest, but better than the robe she’d been wearing. They hadn’t discussed it, so Beckie wasn’t sure if the ‘bikini’ she’d worn at their first meeting was, as she’d implied, her only garment, but in the pack she carried, there was nothing else. A few books, an e-reader, two iPods and her identification papers, including a French passport. And two pairs of sandals with a pair of sneakers.