Stephen Molstad - [ID4- Independence Day 03]

by War in the Desert (epub)

  It wasn’t the answer the king had been expecting.

  “I was never kidnapped,” Fadeela couldn’t help interjecting. “It was my choice to go with these people.” The king ignored her and stared intently at Reg, waiting for him to go on.

  First, Reg explained the circumstances under which he had “shot down” the Egyptian pilot who refused to turn away from Khamis Moushayt. King Ibrahim listened carefully, running his fingers through his beard until Reg was finished.

  “If what you say is true, and I believe that it is, you must be quite a fine pilot.”

  “He’s the best,” Tye interjected.

  King Ibrahim nodded. “So I have been told. But do you also admit that you urged our pilots to disobey Faisal’s orders over Mecca?”

  Tye, Remi, Ali, and Fadeela all broke into the conversation at once, insisting that Reg had acted with good cause. Reg quieted them with a gesture and continued speaking to the king.

  “I did what I thought was right,” he said. “I knew Faisal was making a horrible mistake, that he was sending those men to their deaths.”

  “Knew or believed?" the king asked.

  Reg hesitated for a moment before answering. “I believed so.”

  “In other words, your assessment of the situation differed from Commander Faisal’s?” In only a few moments, the king had cut to the quick of the matter.

  “Yes, it was my assessment against his. But before you have me arrested, there’s something I think you should listen to.” He pulled out of his pocket the audiocassette Thomson had given him. “Have you got a tape deck in this copter?”

  The question stung the monarch. “Major Cummins, this is the royal helicopter. Of course there is a cassette player.” He took the tape from Reg and plugged it in. A moment later, the sounds of the air battle over Mecca filled the helicopter’s passenger compartment. King Ibrahim turned the volume up loud, and for the rest of the flight to Jeddah, hardly a word was spoken.

  When they arrived at King Abdul Aziz International Airport at about four in the afternoon, the helicopter swept past the large tent-shaped hajj terminal built especially to accommodate pilgrims en route to Mecca. The pilot landed the craft on a helipad outside the terminal reserved for the exclusive use of the royal family. There was a large contingent of soldiers and servants waiting there to greet them. One of the faces in the crowd was familiar. It was Faisal. He stood about a hundred feet from the helicopter, his olive green uniform encrusted with the sweat and dust accumulated during a long day of chasing the alien army across the desert. He smiled menacingly at Reg when the two of them made eye contact, then sent some of his soldiers to surround the king’s chopper, just in case Reg tried to make a run for it.

  But Reg had no intention of running. When he saw Faisal, he jumped out of the helicopter and marched directly toward him. Fadeela and the others followed him outside, leaving the king still listening to the recording. “Where the hell were you?” Reg demanded loudly as he marched threateningly toward Faisal.

  The Saudi commander retained his customary poise, refusing to return Reg’s hostile tone. As his soldiers stepped into Reg’s path, he smiled easily and shook his head in disbelief. “I was absolutely correct, wasn’t I? You are a difficult man to kill.” “Where were you?” Reg repeated fiercely. “We agreed we would work together.”

  “So we did,” Faisal said, moving closer. “I ordered the air strike against the alien ship, just as we planned. But my pilots told me you never came outside.”

  “That’s a lie. I fired a dozen flares into the air when we came out. Those jets were supposed to follow us to your camp in the hills. They didn’t. But we made it into the hills without them, only to find you gone.”

  “A matter of priorities, Major. The city of At-Ta‘if came under attack during the night. I was forced to relocate my forces before you returned. In doing so, praise be to Allah, I saved thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of lives.” Faisal and the men around him realized that this was a lie. By the time his forces arrived at At-Ta‘if, the aliens had already left to chase Reg and his team across the desert. But he was accustomed to taking credit for more than he actually accomplished. “In any case,” he went on, “we were successful in removing the biological agents from the alien ship before my planes destroyed it completely. You have been very helpful. And what is more, you have brought Fadeela back to me without a scratch on her pretty face.”

  Before Faisal could protect himself, Reg swung at him and connected. The blow landed squarely on the tip of Faisal’s chin and sent him sprawling to the ground. A pair of soldiers grabbed Reg and pinned his arms behind his back while others leveled their guns at Remi, Ali, and Tye.

  Faisal picked himself off the ground, rubbing his jaw, and gave Reg a deadly stare. He paused for a moment deciding how best to hurt him before issuing a command to his men. “Take the girl inside and wait for me.” A pair of soldiers each grabbed one of Fadeela’s arms and forced her toward the terminal building. Held at gunpoint, Ali and the others were powerless to stop them.

  Faisal moved uncomfortably close to Reg, until they were practically nose to nose. “When my pilots first told me you’d come out of the ship alive,” he hissed, “I was disappointed. But now I see that this way is better. Not only will I be able to enjoy the sweet fruit of this woman, but I will also have the pleasure of attending your public execution.” Reg struggled to free his arms for another swing, but the soldiers held them fast. Instead, Faisal delivered a crushing punch that connected with Reg’s rib cage. He was preparing to hit him again when the loudspeakers mounted to the exterior of the terminal building came to life and began blaring out a recorded conversation.

  REG: “I repeat: Saudi commander, you have broken formation. You are currently running in the wrong direction.”

  FAISAL: “Do not interfere!... I’m afraid you are mistaken, major. You must be watching the wrong plane.”

  REG: “Negative, Faisal. I’m directly above you. Close enough to read your wing markings. You are running away from the engagement.”

  FAISAL: “Stay out of this, Cummins! I am not running. I am ... I am positioning myself to observe the attack.”

  REG: “Admit it, Faisal, you’re saving yourself because you know what’s going to happen to those men. Order them to it break off.”

  FAISAL: “Damn you, Cummins, stay quiet! Cooperate with me and you will be rewarded.”

  REG: “And if I don’t?”

  FAISAL: “Then I will personally shoot you out of the sky.”

  REG: “I wouldn’t advise it. You’d only be wasting another one of your king’s planes.”

  FAISAL: “King Ibrahim is no longer a factor. The Saudi Air Force is now completely under my command and it is my will that—

  As Faisal listened, horrified, he forgot completely about punishing Reg and looked around desperately for the source of the embarrassing transmission. He soon spotted King Ibrahim staring at him sternly from the shadowy recesses of the royal helicopter. Brushing past Reg, Faisal ran to the helipad. “Stop this recording at once!” he shouted.

  “Why should I?” the king asked.

  Faisal stammered out an answer. “Because this is not.. . this was . .. you are exposing military secrets. You are . .. people may misunderstand.”

  “I don’t understand,” said the king, feigning confusion. “You said before the tape would prove Khalid Yamani’s guilt and establish your bravery in the battle. This tape doesn’t match the story you told everyone after the battle. In fact, it sounds as if you turned and ran.”

  Faisal glanced around helplessly at the loudspeakers, which continued to broadcast the sounds of the battle to the entire airport. “There is no need to continue playing the tape. I will explain everything,” he told the king. “After all, you need me.”

  “How so?”

  “I am the Saudi hero who saved Mecca!” he shouted. “Do you want to give the credit to a bunch of Western infidels and Jews? I can be very useful to you and your famil
y. Without me, you will appear weak. As if you needed help from outside to protect the Holy City.”

  “I’m not so sure,” said King Ibrahim, stroking his beard. “It seems to me Khalid Yamani acted quite bravely during the battle. Perhaps he will be accepted as our country’s hero during the battle. But as I say, I’m not certain. That is why I am broadcasting the tape right now over several military frequencies to all parts of the country. This time, we can let the people decide who they consider their hero.”

  When Faisal learned that the entire nation was listening to the recording, he realized at once that he was finished. There vvould be no way to explain why he had flown away from that first bombing run, or why he had muscled the others out of the way to get the first shot for himself. It was all there on the tape, and he knew it. He backed away from the helicopter, then turned and ran toward a jeep that had been left unattended.

  King Ibrahim made no move to stop him. Instead, he watched as Faisal jumped into the vehicle and drove away, burning with humiliation. A moment later, he picked up the handset on his radio and spoke to someone inside the terminal building. He ordered that Fadeela Yamani be found and brought outside again as soon as she was decently covered. Then he called to Reg.

  “Major Cummins, come here please. We have not finished all of our business together. There is still the matter of your reward.” “Don’t forget about your friends,” Tye joked, as Reg began moving back to the royal helicopter.

  Reg seemed in a great hurry to speak to the king. He hurried along for a few paces, then broke into a full run. It wasn’t that he was eager to collect his reward; he was concerned about Fadeela. He informed the king that their chat would have to wait until he was positive Fadeela was safe. The old man laughed at his earnest concern and assured him he had already taken care of the matter. Then he invited Reg inside the helicopter, where the two men sat face-to-face for the next several minutes, negotiating. After some time, Mr. Yamani was called in to join them. The three of them were still talking when Fadeela reemerged from the terminal, escorted by a different set of soldiers. Somewhere, they had found a spare abaya and given it to her so she could cover herself. Reg happened to glance up from his conversation long enough to take in the strange sight of her: a battle-tested woman warrior wearing dusty combat fatigues beneath a long skein of black fabric that reached nearly to her ankles. Her boots, stained with oil and blood, protruded from below the cloth. She came striding out of the terminal in an unladylike fashion and joined Tye, Remi, and Ali. The three men pointed toward the helicopter, explaining the situation to her. When she learned what Reg and her father were discussing with the king, she put her hands on her hips and shook her veiled head back and forth to express her displeasure.

  A few moments later, the three men stepped out of the helicopter and moved to join the others. Reg trailed along behind the two older men, who chatted amiably with each other as they doddered slowly across the landing pad, ignoring the last hour of the day’s punishing heat. They smiled broadly, as if they were both pleased with the arrangement that had been hammered out. Reg’s expression, on the other hand, gave no indication of how the negotiations had gone. When at last they reached the place where Fadeela and the others were waiting, the king’s mood suddenly changed.

  “I do not understand these Englishmen,” he began loudly. “For his role in protecting our nation, I promised to give Major Cummins anything it was within my power to grant him. I offered him millions of dollars, my properties in Hawaii, one of my personal jets. But he insisted on asking for something else,” he said, glancing toward Fadeela, “something that is not mine to give. The most I was able to do was to speak on his behalf to my old friend Karmal Yamani. Perhaps to save me from appearing ungenerous, Mr. Yamani has consented to the major’s request.” Then he turned to face the shrouded figure of Fadeela. “You must be quite an extraordinary young woman. The only thing he asks for is for you.”

  Fadeela’s anger boiled over. “And you, the ruler of Saudi Arabia, custodian of the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, appear quite willing to oblige him. You give a Saudi woman to a Western man like you were handing over a cow.” The king took a step backward, startled by the woman’s outburst. He was trying to deliver the good news that she was going to get what she wanted, and was unprepared to face her wrath.

  “I think you don’t understand,” King Ibrahim said.

  “I understand that you men believe you can control me like a piece of property, trade me to one another like an old car. And in this case, you can’t claim it is the will of Allah because he’s not even a Muslim.” Although her face was covered, Reg could feel Fadeela’s green eyes staring at him like a pair of burning X-ray beams.

  “She thinks I’ve asked to marry her,” Reg said, explaining Fadeela’s reaction.

  “Haven’t you?” she asked in a smaller voice.

  Reg shook his head no.

  “The very opposite,” the king told her. "He has asked that you be given the power to choose your own husband. Accordingly, your engagement to Ghalil Faisal is officially canceled. Of course, if you still wish to marry Faisal, you may. Or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Is it true?” Fadeela asked her father.

  He nodded that it was. “And if you wish to continue your education, either here or abroad, you are free to do so. I am not sure how many universities are left standing, but this time I will not interfere with your studies. It is up to you to decide.”

  “So, if I want to marry this man,” Fadeela said, taking Remi by the arm, “I may do so without asking anyone’s permission?” The king and her father nodded, but Remi warned her that his wife probably wouldn't like the idea. Fadeela, enjoying the idea of her new freedom, moved to Ali and took him by the arm. “Or this man?” Again, the answer was yes. Nodding, she turned, and as she began moving toward Reg, Tye couldn’t resist clearing his throat ostentatiously.

  “Aren’t you forgetting someone?” he asked, pretending to be hurt.

  “Forgive me.” Fadeela laughed. She took hold of Tye’s arm as she had with the other men, and asked, “Or this one?”

  King Ibrahim and Mr. Yamani both made the same joke. “No, not that one!”

  When Tye had recovered from his momentary heartbreak, Fadeela walked over and stood in front of Reg. “Thank you. This is a wonderful gift.”

  “It’s the least I could do. After all, you gave me what I needed most: something worth fighting for.”

  “I’m smiling.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “But I hope you don’t expect me to act like a foolish girl and ask you to marry me.”

  “That thought never crossed my mind, princess.”

  “Liar. But tell me, is it true you turned down all the riches King Ibrahim offered you?” When Reg said it was, Fadeela shook her head in disappointment. “You could have made the rest of your life relatively comfortable. Isn’t that the goal of all Westerners? But now, I’m afraid you’ve made things difficult for yourself.” Again, she shook her head sadly.

  “I’d appreciate any advice you could give me on the subject,” Reg said.

  “Actually, I’ve already come up with a few ideas. Shall we walk?”

  The two of them strolled away from the others, past the helicopter, and out into the late-aftenoon sun. They walked up and down the apron of the nearest runway for a long while, making decisions about the future.