by Ron Sewell
“What can you see?”
“Isis troops. Most are erecting oblong structures with a small window. It's all rather odd.”
“Can we edge nearer?”
“Come with me and keep quiet. I prefer my body without holes in it.”
The sand-covered ground concealed jagged rocks as they crawled towards the camp. Forty minutes of dragging themselves along, they crested a dune. Their new position gave them a clear view of the camp.
“Scoop out a hollow in the sand and keep your head low. If we’re spotted sprint like your arse is on fire.”
“How far are we from civilization?”
“This is the land God forgot. Perfect for an Isis training camp.”
They nestled into the sand and gazed at the camp.
His guide took out his binoculars and scanned the locale. “Those structures must be important.”
Rono saw men marching while others stood guard. It was difficult to understand their actions. “Those men are professional soldiers.”
By late morning and with no shade, sweat dripped from both men.
“Something’s happening.”
Rono borrowed the binoculars and studied twelve men standing to attention. What intrigued him was each carried a modern rocket-propelled-grenade-launcher with optical sights.
From the nearest tent, a man dressed in black emerged. A woman wearing blue jeans, a shapeless black top and a headscarf walked beside him.
“Is that her?”
Rono compared the woman to the photograph he had seen in Eric’s file. “At this distance I can’t be sure but she’s waving her arms and speaking.”
The man shouted and in a single file, the men marched outside the camp, stopped and waited. Others followed carrying grey coloured boxes. The men divided into groups of three and lay facing the crude structures.
“What’s the range between those men and their targets?” asked Rono.
“I’d reckon at most four-hundred metres.”
A deafening roar vibrated the air as twelve RPGs operated, leaving a trail of smoke and fire in their wake. As they passed through the structures, they left a jagged hole. The ground erupted, sending clouds of sand and rock into the air.
Both men looked at each other and shrugged.
“I don’t understand,” said Rono.
“They hit the targets. Strange, I can’t hear a word the woman is saying, but she’s upset about something.”
“More sheets of wood and canvas are on their way.”
New targets stood in the same position as the remnants of the others.
“This is a must-see. She has loaded an RPG and is taking aim standing behind those men.” Rock-steady the RPG exploded into life.
“She’s missed,” said Rono.
“I don’t think so. The grenade passed through the window. That’s what she requires those morons to achieve. Hang on, a truck has arrived.”
The woman, clutching another RPG, hopped onto the back as it drove away. In moments, she took aim and fired. The second grenade nicked the side of the window as it passed through.
“She’s good.”
“Too good,” said Rono. “I don’t fancy being on her wrong side when she takes aim. Time to withdraw.”
Both men descended the dune and crawled back to the vehicles.
“We’re done here,” said David to both drivers as the doors slammed shut.
“If you’d given me a weapon, I could have taken the shot,” said Rono.
“And killed us. Now we spy on her. She will make a mistake.”
“Are you sure?”
David chuckled. “Everyone makes mistakes, even you.”
In a back street that ran parallel to his hotel the Land Rover paused. “I’ll be in touch,” said David. “When you contact South Africa, go for a stroll and use your mobile. Be aware, the police have the hotel staff monitor every call.”
At reception, Rono asked for his key and returned to his room. Exhausted, he slept.
***
Linda forced the men to practice until they could no longer lift an RPG. Soaked in sweat she barged into Antarah Hasan’s tent. “With a hundred days training they might strike the target first time.”
He shook his head. “Relax, we have time and they will be ready. They understand the penalty for failure.” His eyes stripped her clothing from her body. He cringed at the thought as he recalled her sexual orientation. “We stay with our leaders’ plan. My contact has found two ships that may suit our purpose. I have arranged a meeting in Tripoli.”
She stood there for a long time. “When?”
“Tomorrow we will inspect these vessels. God is great. He has blessed this mission and smiled on us.”
“Your God has nothing to do with this. The ships’ owners need your money.”
He nodded. “You are correct but our God has granted us the chance for success.”
Linda frowned. These men craved for nothing more than to die and go to paradise as martyrs. “You’re mistaking me for someone who gives a shit. I’m in this for the money and until my bank account improves, you can whistle.”
He winced but did not allow it to rile him. “Tomorrow at nine we drive to Tripoli. You will select your ship.”
Unmoved by his remark, she shrugged. “Tomorrow is another day.” She hesitated as if to say something and then stomped out of the tent.
A man in uniform hoisted the tent flap and sat beside Antarah. “She is a woman I do not trust. When this is over I will enjoy watching my men abuse her before I kill her.”
10
The telephon e at the side of Rono’s bed rang destroying his peace. Half asleep, he groped for the receiver and raised it to his ear. He took a deep breath and reminded himself why he was here.
“Are you awake?” “I’m answering your call. Who is it?” He checked the time. He had slept for ten hours.
“Thought you might like to have dinner and see the wonders of Tripoli.”
The voice sounded familiar. “Where will I meet you?”
“I have a table booked in your name at the Murina Restaurant. A taxi will collect you at eight. Have a shower. Wear a tie.” The call ended.
He tumbled out of bed and stretched. The shower’s erratic flow reduced to a dribble as he lathered his body. Annoyed, he stood beneath it for a long time before tepid water flowed. Free of soap, he did not shave, deciding that keeping his stubble made life easier. He dressed in his remaining clean clothes, checked his appearance in the mirror and strolled to the hotel entrance.
At eight, the taxi arrived. The driver lurched from his seat. “Sir, come with me.”
Rono sat in the passenger’s seat and turned to the driver. "You know where I am going?"
The driver grunted and rammed the accelerator to the floor. With wheels spinning, the car raced along the road. Not far from the hotel, they halted at a concrete barricade. Armed men peered at Rono but on the receipt of a suitable bribe allowed them to pass. A few miles further on the car drove at high speed into a derelict warehouse and screeched to a halt.
“You get out,” said the driver.
“Why?”
The man shrugged.
Rono stepped out, and as the door slammed shut, the vehicle roared away.
The warehouse stank of animal dung. Pigeons disturbed by his arrival flew like ghosts among the roof trusses. Their cries bounced off the walls. He remained where he was and let his eyes adjust to the gloom. After a few minutes, he made out a wall and edged forward with his right hand in front of his body. When the back of his hand grazed the brickwork, he stood with his back to the stone. The footsteps of someone approaching wearing rubber-soled shoes heightened his concern.
“There you are,” said a familiar voice. The man who called himself David stared at him. “For your information, we have kept the Isis camp under surveillance. Today, we had a stroke of luck. Two men from that camp drove their truck straight through a roadblock. They killed one man and injured several others. Those who jumpe
d out of its path emptied their magazines killing the driver. The truck crashed into a house and my team have the other man in a safe location not far from here.” He beckoned with his right hand. “Come.” “Why didn’t the taxi take me straight to wherever we’re going?”
“I have my reasons. No more questions. Follow me.” They left the building in silence. After ten minutes, the two men walked around tons of concrete rubble, piled high, ready for removal. Rono’s pulse quickened as he lowered his head as they entered the remains of a bombed underground facility. Much of the damaged reinforced concrete with its twisted steel appeared to bar the way. Rono had no idea where he was and stayed close to David as they strolled through the labyrinth of metal and concrete. Five levels lower, they entered a large windowless space. White light filled the room. Four high-powered halogen lamps shone on a naked, well-built man shackled to the floor. He appeared to be in his twenties, his long dark hair and beard indicative of an Isis soldier.
“And I bought a new tie.”
David gave Rono a stern frown. “Off the record it’s vital you see this. Like most civilised countries, we do not kill, maltreat or jail with no charge.” He pointed. “He is a terrorist of the worst kind, and wants to die for his God. The information in his head will help us destroy them. Two of my team trained in the art of persuasion while working in Gaddafi’s prisons.”
A grim smile came from Rono as he listened to the anger in David’s voice. “I gather this is his trial, and he’s guilty.”
“Reserve your judgement until later.” David pointed to two moth-eaten armchairs. “Make yourself comfortable, this can take a long time. I’m the investigating officer. For the record, this man tried his best to evade a security checkpoint. The enthusiasm of the guards resulted in his death.” He nodded to his men and seated himself next to Rono. They began with kicks and blows to every part of the prisoner’s body. At first he grunted and screamed but a steelcapped boot to his head knocked him unconscious. The lights extinguished, and those watching left the room.
“We abandon him in the dark for a few hours while we enjoy our refreshment. His mind will flash back to his beating and he’ll believe he can survive. He will never leave this place alive but hope is a great motivator.”
***
Pain wracked the prisoner’s body. The dark bothered him but not as much as the silence. Had they left him to die? He tasted the blood on his lips and his ribs ached where they had stomped on him. The shackles gripping his arms and legs clinked on the cement floor as he shifted his body. In an instant, the room flooded with white light again. They were back, and the prisoner screwed his eyes shut.
“The woman who gives the orders. What is her name?” asked David in Arabic.
He stared at the ceiling. “I serve one master, my God, who will never betray me but if you wish I’ll fuck your mother and then your sister.”
“This is a game I play by your rules and as you know, you lose every time,” said David. “I’m not afraid of you because I understand you. I’ve seen your camp and spotted many men cringe when this woman screams her orders.” “She will learn the power of Allah. We use her to help us destroy millions of infidels.”
“Now that is interesting.” David ran his fingers through his hair. “Who will you molest next? A girls’ school is an easy target. Against professional soldiers, you would not last a minute. You are the scum of the village whore, cast out like the rabid dogs you are. Allah shits on you.”
The man strained against his shackles. “You will shiver in the shadow of Allah for he is soon to retake the land stolen from us. The infidels will die in their thousands. Allah’s fire will ravage the earth.”
“The target. Tell me and your pain will end.” “Torture me but I will not tell you.”
“You will die a martyr to your cause but no one will ever know of your existence. You will tell me everything.” David nodded to one of his men.
The man lowered his gun as he knelt and murmured in the prisoner’s ear. “Right or left knee?”
“My God will save me.”
“I don’t think so but then you’re a fool. They ran out of virgins a long while ago. If you’re lucky, you’ll inherit a rabid whore in hell.” He saw the pain on the man’s face. There was no escape.
David’s assistant placed the end of the barrel against the man’s kneecap. “You have five seconds. Five, four, three, two, one.”
“I pray to Allah for death.”
The man with the weapon laughed as he shoved a dirty rag into the prisoner’s mouth and squeezed the trigger. The shot destroyed the young man’s right knee. “Tell me, why is the woman in your camp? Why do you fire at those strange structures? What is your goal? Tell me and I will shoot you in the head.” He wrenched the rag from the man’s mouth.
“We will now ruin your left knee.” He nodded and again one bullet destroyed the knee.
Screams filled the room as David turned off the lights.
“How much longer does he have to suffer?” asked Rono.
“When he tells us everything we shoot him in the head and dump him in the desert. The scavengers will eat well tonight.”
“His group must know he’s missing.”
“It’s not healthy for them to ask questions. We have many problems and they are the uninvited guests. We made progress but I’m impressed that he prefers death rather than to tell us anything.”
Two hours later one shot put the prisoner out of his misery. They wrapped the corpse in an old carpet and two men carried it away.
“We were merciful when compared to what those people do to their captives,” said David. “We were lucky and you have your information. This Linda Liu will steal a ship for Isis. It’s a pity he told us so little. We must destroy these people and solve your problem. Tomorrow I will make the arrangements.”
A man escorted Rono to the surface, and he shielded his eyes from the sun. One of David’s men drove him back to the hotel. On the way, he bought a pizza. One mouthful made his stomach heave. Back in his room, he peeled off his clothes and settled on the bed. He shut his eyes.
***
“Wake up,” said the soft voice of a boy. “My master is ready.” Through the haze of sleep Linda recalled that today they inspected ships. She poured tepid water into a plastic bowl and splashed her face. In minutes dressed as a Muslim woman, she exited her tent. She glanced to the east. The air was clear and the long morning shadows evident. The boy opened the passenger door of the old Fiat and she slid onto the worn leather seat.
Antarah Hasan twisted the ignition key, engaged drive and left the camp. “Today you will check one ship and tomorrow the other. Tonight we stay in Tripoli at a brother’s hotel.”
“You said we check these ships out this morning. You never mentioned leaving early. I have no clothes with me. I must change my knickers every day.”
He shrugged. “I will give you the money to buy what you need. We will go to a shop which sells everything.” The streets were coming alive as they drove through Tripoli. Several times, they halted at roadblocks but the sentries took little notice of a man and a woman in a beat-up car. When he reached the port area, he found a side street, pulled over to the kerb and parked. He pointed. “Our vessel is ten minutes in that direction. We wait here until it’s time for our appointment, and then we go.”
Linda reclined the seat and closed her eyes. “Whatever you say.”
When he shook her arm, she wasn’t asleep but took her time getting out of the car. “This ship, what is it?” He glanced at her. “It’s a ship, and it floats.” “I tell you now if it’s a tanker of any shape or size my answer is no. For this job I must have a bulk carrier, mid range and at worst it must have a speed of over eighteen knots.”
“Why? A ship is a ship.”
“Tankers have plenty of space but a bulk carrier requires little conversion. My team can live in the crew’s mess and there’s a large hold with deck covers. Handy for the storage of tanks, guns and bombs.”
The
y entered the port via a gate off Alo Kurnish Road. They walked towards a three-sided basin containing five ships.
“Which one?” asked Linda.
“The green and black one.”
“Medium size, twenty-five thousand tons. Might be practical.”
They stood at the bottom of the gangway and cast their eyes over the vessel. A stocky man, his features Middle Eastern, descended the gangway and stood in front of them. In English he said, “Alexandros Dukas, Master of The Sea Urchin. You are?”
“I am Antarah Hasan and I am in search of a suitable vessel. This ship is for sale. My assistant and I must inspect it from front to back. If it meets our requirements, I can offer you a fair price.”
“The price is ten million dollars, not negotiable.” “Single or double hull?” asked Linda.
Alexandros smiled at the woman dressed in black. “The hull is in good condition.”
“I did not ask its condition. Single or double?” “Single hull with double bottom.”
“We are wasting our time,” said Linda. “This ship is not fit for our purpose.”
Antarah pulled her to one side. “Do not humiliate me in front of another man.”
“Suit yourself, but if you buy this vessel, you might as well offer Allah a ham sandwich for dinner.”
“You insult my God.”
“No, you do. You need me to do a job but you don’t understand. I will not waste my time inspecting this. I’ve told you, it’s not suitable.”
“Forgive me for wasting your time,” said Antarah. “No problem.” He nodded and scrambled up the gangway.
“Where is the other ship?”
Antarah pointed towards a vessel the colour of rust. “That one.”
Linda shrugged. “Let’s take a peek. If it’s not suitable, we must locate others.”
“The owner’s representative will not be there now. Our meeting is for tomorrow morning.”
“If it’s crap, we save a day.”
Antarah followed by Linda crested the steep gangway onto the main deck of MV American Queen.
“It’s better than it looks,” said Linda. “The rust is surface. The hatches are in good condition and the hydraulic pipes are a recent addition. I want to see the bridge.” The old man made no noise as he approached the pair wandering around the deck. They jumped when he spoke in Arabic. “You should not be on this ship.”