by Nick Corbett
“So Elias, I hear you play the violin, very well.”
“Oh, I meant to ask you, how do you know I play the violin?”
“Some important people in London have heard about you. Some have even heard you play.”
“Really? I’d like to go to London.”
“Well, listen, I have an offer for you.”
“An offer?”
“Yeah, to study music in London, would you like that?”
“Er…”
“You could study under the best teachers. You’d be sponsored, so money wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Somebody else that wants to sponsor me?” says Elias thoughtfully. He looks at Joe directly. “But how could I go to London?”
“We’ll sail to Cyprus, then fly to London.”
Elias opens his violin case, positions the instrument against his chin, poised to play.
“If you’d like to take up the offer, everything’s already arranged,” continues Joe.
“Because of the politics around here, we’d have to go in secret, and we’d have to go now.”
He pauses. “Hannah will come too.” Elias smiles and nods cautiously. “Are you from London, Joe?”
“I live there now.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“Birmingham, right in the middle of England. That’s where Hannah’s from too. We went to school together.”
“Is it nice there?”
“Yeah, the people are very friendly. We’ve got the Forest of Arden nearby, even some Cedars of Lebanon. I’d like to show them to you.”
“So, would I be able to see you, if I moved to London?”
“Yeah, of course. Everything will be sorted out for you Elias, somewhere nice to live, money, a place at the college.”
Elias furrows his brow, sucks in his lips. “I really need to think for a minute; if I play, it will help me think.” Elias tunes his violin.
Joe feels butterflies of anxiety in his stomach.
What will Elias’s answer be?
He considers practical next steps. If Elias says yes, they’ll need to get him out of the camp without any awkward questions, then to the marina, onto the yacht, and out of the country.
Elias plays sonorous chords. Joe smiles, he’s listening to a brilliant musician. He recognises Spring from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Joe feels his anxieties lifting off him. He looks out over the darkening city, feels his own spirit lifting over the landscape. Elias finishes a note abruptly.
“I will come to London with you.”
Joe beams, wants to punch the air, but then his countenance changes. There is a distant roaring from the city, like a medieval battle. It diminishes, rises again, even louder. It sends a shiver down his spine.
“What on earth’s that? Is it a football match?”
Elias shakes his head.
“It’s the people. They’re angry. Their Prime Minister was killed.”
There’s another roar. The hairs on Joe’s arms all stand up, as if electrocuted.
“We’ve got to go now, Elias!”
“Okay, I’ll pack my violin.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ve just got to leave everything.”
“What about my grandfather? I must say goodbye to him.”
Joe looks anguished. “But what if he tells anyone? If he does, we won’t be able to take you.”
“He loves me, he won’t tell anyone.”
“I’m really sorry Elias, but you mustn’t tell him, otherwise it’ll be too dangerous for us.”
They climb back down the wooden ladder. They need to leave as quickly as possible. Joe is anxious about civil unrest in the city. He stands in the little living room, looking panic stricken. By contrast, Hannah and the old man look very convivial, sitting on the sofa in front of the television. They are oblivious to the roars from the city.
“Hannah! There’s trouble,” says Joe. “We need to leave, immediately.”
Hannah springs up from her seat. Joe gives a swift little bow towards the old man, who struggles to get up from the sofa, but gives up. Elias falls to his grandfather’s knees and he hugs him. He looks into the old man’s eyes with tears. At the sight of his grandson’s tears, the old man’s face crumbles. Tears fall down his cheeks. Joe puts his hand on Elias’s shoulder.
“Come on, I’m sorry but we’ve got to go, now.”
Joe, Hannah and Elias step out through the front door into the chill night. They run back along the pathway, heading for the narrow staircase. Hannah leads the way, baggy clothes flapping in the wind. They proceed cautiously down the covered stairs. Pitch darkness. They arrive back on the first floor landing. They run around the corner, dash through the library room. It’s empty; the boys have gone. They run along the cluttered passage, kittens dart out of the way. They take great care going down the last narrow covered staircase in complete darkness. They are back at ground level, breathing heavily. They catch their breath. Drums are beating.
“What’s going on?” asks Joe.
Hannah shrugs. “I don’t know, come on.”
Joe and Elias follow her into the little square. The lights are twinkling. The sound of drums is coming from the far side, by the school building. People are gathering around a fire, which is burning in a metal bin. Orange flames flicker high, glowing faces are revealed. Flames recede; faces vanish.
“I think it’s a celebration,” says Hannah. “It’s probably been arranged for you lot.”
The flames rise high, again. Joe spots Mike, standing apart from the crowd, talking on a mobile phone.
“There’s Mike, come on!”
When they reach him, he’s just finishing his conversation, looks agitated.
“At last, you’re here! Who’s this?”
“This is Elias, he’s coming with us.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“That’s terrific.”
Mike offers Elias a quick handshake and a warm smile. Elias takes the handshake awkwardly.
“Mike, something serious has happened in the city,” says Joe. “Sounds like major crowd trouble.”
“I know. I’ve just spoken to the embassy, massive crowds in the streets, people gathering in Martyr Square. Mike glances at his watch. “We were supposed to leave before it got dark. The car’s been delayed. It should be here in ten minutes. Let’s join the others. They’re by the fire. Come on, try to look as if you’re enjoying the party.”
The local women have been teaching Ingrid the steps of a folk dance. Sadik has been giving a more advanced lesson to Benoit and Johan. The younger men from the camp continue to watch on. Suddenly one of the women in the crowd shrieks, her tongue rattling on the top of her mouth. People in the crowd link arms and form a human circle around the fire. The two men playing the drums slow their rhythm. The human circle begins to rotate, clumsily at first. A gentle pace allows the beginners to get to grips with their moves. Snorts of laughter are heard from Ingrid.
There is something primeval about the scene, dancers around a fire, under the night sky. Elias nudges Joe’s arm. Together with Hannah, they join in the dancing circle. Joe has one arm around Hannah and the other arm around Elias. They are all moving in time to the quickening beat of the drums. All sense of urgency, for the moment, is forgotten. Joe kicks his legs out awkwardly, trying to mimic what Elias is doing. Their faces are lit up by the warm, orange glow of the fire.
“Isn’t this great Joe?” shouts Ingrid, forgetting herself. “They’ve put this party on for us, to say thanks. Our dancing’s even worse than our decorating!” Ingrid gasps for breath. Her face is flushed. Remembering their mission, she stares at Elias, intrigued to know if he’s the one. She tries to read Joe’s face. At that point, one of the women standing outside the circle shrieks again, her tongue rattling on the top of her mouth. The drums and the dancing pick up a swifter pace. Soon they are hurtling around the fire at an alarming speed. Everyone is laughing, enjoying themselves, apart from Mike. He’s the only one not in the circle. Joe snatches a glanc
e towards him. Mike points at him and then he points up the hill. It’s time to go.
Joe is suddenly, violently, catapulted forward. He falls to the ground, hard on his knees, miraculously missing the fire. Hannah raises her hands to her mouth, rushes forward to help Joe. The dancing circle is broken. Joe looks up, with wild, frightened eyes. He is startled to see the stocky youth with the scar face, the one who was with Rubina. He is staring at Joe, frenziedly.
“You’re an American! You’ve been spying on Elias!” screams the youth.
Joe struggles to his feet. He stretches out his arms defensively, shakes his head. Mike rushes over, stands beside Joe, holds his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m not really hurt, just a bit shaken.”
“Okay, it’s time to go.”
“How are we going to get out of here?” Joe asks as he brushes the dust off his knees. Mike points to the black outline of the Range Rover, perched on the prow of the hill, beside the school. Headlights are switched on. It was driven into the camp from a different gate. In the narrow spaces, it looks like something from another world. Joe breathes a sigh of relief.
“Get everyone together, quickly!” orders Mike. “We’ll drop Benoit and Johan off too, it’ll be a squeeze.”
Mike turns to face the scar-faced youth. “You - stay back! We’re going now, and we don’t want any trouble from you.”
“Get back to Texas,” snarls the youth.
“Actually, I’m from Texel, it sounds the same, but it’s an island in the Netherlands. We came here because we want to help you.”
“I’ve got friends; they’ll kill you.” The youth spits and slopes off.
Hannah is standing beside Joe, she puts her arm around him.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m alright, come on, we need to get the others.”
Mike turns to Joe and Hannah.“ Get everyone together!” he snaps.
Hannah pulls Ingrid away from a group of local women. They’re apologising for the incident with the youth. Joe retrieves Benoit and Johan, who’ve been talking to a group of men beside the fire. Mike explains the situation to Sadik, their Arab guide. Within a few minutes, they are all gathered at the Range Rover. Philippe, their driver, greets them and ushers them into the Ambassador’s car. Hannah and Ingrid occupy the back seat, with Elias seated between them. The Range Rover has black tinted windows, but they still want to do everything possible to conceal Elias.
“Try to sit down as low as you can, so you’re not seen,” whispers Ingrid.
“Okay,” whispers Elias, snuggling down between the beautiful women.
Johan and Benoit clamber into the boot, where there is a rear-facing bench seat.
The stocky youth with the scar suddenly reappears. He is walking towards the Range Rover. He is not alone. Two tall, thin, dark, suited men accompany him. They are the Syrians. Elias hasn’t seen them yet, but Mike has.
Ingrid presses a button accidentally. The rear passenger window is electrically lowered, revealing the occupants. Before she can work out how to raise the window, Sadik takes the opportunity to peer in. He takes Ingrid’s hand and kisses it. He spots Elias in the car, beside her.
“Where are you taking him?” he asks, with a look of surprise.
“We’re taking him for a ride,” says Hannah. “We’ll see you later.”
Sadik is lost for words. Joe realises what’s happened, he squeezes Sadik’s arm, distracts him.
“I’ll always remember this day, Sadik. Thanks for everything you’ve done for us.”
Mike is flustered. He is holding up the door to the boot.
“Come on, Joe; you’ve got to get in.”
Joe quickly clambers into the boot, squeezes between Johan and Benoit on the bench. Mike slams the boot door closed, he rushes around to the front of the car. He has to push the scar-faced youth out of his way. The youth suddenly throws a punch at him. Mike ducks and the youth misses. Sadik sees what is happening. He grabs the youth from behind, gets him in a headlock. Now the Syrians run forward. Mike gets into the Range Rover, locks the door.
“Go! Go! Go!” he yells.
The car is weighed down with eight people in it. The Syrians are at the back window, peering in. They look gaunt, deranged. They are forcing the lock. Joe is face to face with them. They start bashing loudly against the glass, knuckledusters on their fists. Glass is cracking. They’re going to smash their way in. The engine roars into life. The Range Rover accelerates off at speed. With the big wheels and bouncing suspension, they glide effortlessly over the potholes. Joe stares back at the Syrians as their faces retreat into the night. Joe feels as if he is floating above everything, safely ensconced in that warm, safe carriage, separate from the world.
People jump out of the way, press themselves against makeshift buildings as the Range Rover roars up the mud street. They are approaching the sentry post.
“The barrier’s up, that’s good,” says Mike. He turns to Philippe. “Don’t stop, we’ve got diplomatic immunity, just drive through.”
Now Mike turns to the others. “Don’t lower any windows, keep silent. If any talking needs to be done, I’ll do it. Keep Elias hidden.”
Two guards stand with guns at the gateway. Mike lowers his window, casually gives the okay sign to the guards as they drive past.
“Stop!” shouts the guard.
Too late, they’ve passed the barrier.
“Drive on,” says Mike calmly.
They accelerate fast, out of the darkness of the camp, back into modern Beirut, with its wide tarmac streets, humming traffic and electric lights.
Joe looks out of the rear window of the Range Rover, elevated above the street in a strange tranquillity. They drive past groups of people carrying banners and the Lebanese flag. The sounds, sights and smells of the camp fade like a dream. Mike, in the front passenger seat, is distracted by the dangers of the present situation. He is busy making calls on his mobile phone; fully focused on getting Elias and his English escorts to the marina, where the yacht will take them to Cyprus. He turns back to face the passengers.
“We’ll drop off Joe, Hannah, and Elias at the marina first. The rest of us will go back to our embassy. We’ll take Benoit and Johan home later, when the city’s quieter.”
Benoit and Johan remain silent; shocked and confused about what is going on.
“How will you get through the crowds in the city?” asks Hannah.
“Don’t worry, nobody knows the city like Philippe, and we’re in radio contact with the police. We’ll go back the way we came, along the coast road.”
“Okay,” replies Hannah. “Isn’t it best for me to go back to your embassy too?” She appears to have misunderstood a key part of her role in the mission.
“What do you mean, Hannah? You need to go with Joe and Elias, to Cyprus,” replies Mike.
“What? You want me to go to Cyprus too?”
“Yes, I thought Joe had explained everything to you.”
“I hadn’t realised I was expected to go to Cyprus, tonight! What about all my stuff?”
“Don’t worry, everything will be shipped back to you.”
There’s a long silence. Joe turns around from the boot.
“I’m sorry if I didn’t explain things well. There’s no way we’re going without you, Hannah.”
They are approaching the main boulevard, beside the Mediterranean Sea. There is less traffic here. Ingrid turns to Elias.
“How do you feel?”
“Oh, excited, sad, but happy too.”
Through the damaged rear window, Joe notices the headlights of two motorbikes approaching. The riders don’t wear helmets, suit jackets are flapping in the wind. Suddenly, Benoit elbows Joe in the ribs, he sounds terrified.
“Those guys on motorbikes, they’ve got guns!”
One of the motorcyclists accelerates hard, comes level with the Range Rover. It’s one of the Syrians, waving a pistol, shouting at Philippe.<
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“Pull over! Pull over!”
Philippe turns to Mike for instructions.
“Can you burn them off?” asks Mike.
“I think so.”
“Go for it.”
“Hold on!”
The passengers in the main part of the car are thrust backwards. Those in the boot are thrown forwards, their faces nearly smashing against the rear window. The Range Rover accelerates to an incredible speed. They go straight through a set of red lights, hurtle down the main boulevard. Joe is sandwiched between Benoit and Johan. The three of them now have their feet pressed against the back window. Through his feet, Joe can see the lights of the motorbikes receding into the distance. He expects to hear a gun blast, but there is none. All of the passengers cling onto each other. Everything is a blur. Elias opens his eyes as the speedometer passes 110mph. He feels both terrified and delighted.
“Okay, pay attention everyone,” says Mike, sounding deadly serious. “We’ve lost those guys. Joe, Hannah, Elias - get ready to get out. Here’s the marina. There’s no time for anyone to say goodbye. Find the Liberty. It’ll be the biggest yacht. You’ll set sail immediately.”
The Range Rover screeches off the boulevard, down a dark, narrow track. They are driving over a cobbled quayside. As soon as the car stops, Mike rushes out, opens the boot. Joe clambers out. Hannah and Elias join him.
“Go well,” says Mike.
He gets straight back into the Range Rover. It speeds off.
Joe, Hannah and Elias stand upon the quayside, hearts beating frantically. Eyes adjust to darkness. A few lanterns provide a little light. All around, in the shadows, are dozens of yachts moored beside a maze of boardwalks. Metal masts clang and chime manically in the fresh sea breeze.
“Okay, let’s find the biggest yacht; fitting for Luke isn’t it?”
“Luke?” gasps Hannah.
“Yeah, sorry, didn’t I mention that either?”
“No.”
“Oh, Luke’s in on this too. He’s sailing the yacht for us. Now then, the Liberty will be flying the Cypriot flag. It shows the outline of the island. Not that we’ll be able to see it. It’s pitch black out there.”
“Shush. Stop talking,” whispers Hannah.