The Imam of the Cave

by J Randall

  Inspecting the Land Rovers, Bill could see that they were well equipped. Water, rations, gasoline—everything had been organized for an extended stay in the desert. Each man was armed with a weapon he was proficient with and carried enough ammunition to sustain a prolonged engagement.

  He hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

  With his men facing him, he fought back the tears that threatened to wet his cheeks and said, “Let’s go and find our men. We have 385 kilometers of paved road to Ar Rutbah.”

  CHAPTER 19: COVERT OBSERVATIONS

  GLORIA LOWERED HER BINOCULARS and slid back into the camouflaged hidey hole—a trench dug three feet wide, six feet long and two feet deep in the sand. One camouflaged poncho covered the bottom and a second lay stretched across the top, disguised with brush and sand for texture.

  She glanced at Nigel and shook her head. Nothing.

  The hole was cramped and its camouflage shield not the sturdiest, but it provided shelter from the elements and prying eyes.

  The sun was rising quickly, rendering movement dangerous and forcing their bodies to give up their precious water to compensate for the heat.

  The decision in London had brought them to Iraq and put them down in the Syrian Desert, both dressed in Army tan desert camouflage uniforms.

  They had been inserted in the dark seven hours earlier, courtesy of a US Army Special Operations team. The MH 60L Blackhawk helicopter that transported them was configured for black operations and could hover two hundred feet above an enemy at night without being seen or heard. It utilized stealth technology developed by the Air Force and was capable of defeating all but the most high tech radars.

  Nothing indicated it was there but a slight increase in the wind from its silent rotors.

  When their first day had passed and the moon finally chased the sun from the sky, the temperature became bearable then quickly became cold.

  Gloria and Nigel exited their hidey hole and scanned the surrounding desert. Their night vision goggles displayed a luminescent view of nocturnal creatures searching for prey in the sparse desert landscape.

  The territory they would observe totaled thirty square miles. The coordinates were derived at MI6 headquarters from the photographs Gloria had given Walter Terrance. They hoped the desert held the key to the missing inspectors.

  They finished gathering their equipment and headed toward the airfield identified by the Black Bird’s overflight. The small global positioning systems they carried made pinpointing the airfield easy.

  Their night trek brought them within three kilometers of the airfield, where the flat landscape of the desert deprived them of natural concealment. They decided not to risk being observed by the Iraqis, whom they suspected of having night vision devices, and dug their hidey hole.

  “Nigel, we have an hour before it starts to get light. Do you want to scout the terrain around the airfield?”

  “We might as well conserve our energy. No concealment if they have NVGs. Besides, if we see that the airfield’s deserted during daylight, we’ll get a closer view.”

  They observed the airfield until light with their night vision goggles then for a while with their binoculars. They saw no activity other than that of a stray hare bounding across the yellow and tan sand.

  Before they went in to inspect the airfield Gloria contacted the UN communications center in New York to give a situation report. She used a device similar to a cellular phone but adapted with a scrambler to ensure secure communications. The signal was routed through the Syncom 4 satellite that had been launched by the space shuttle Discovery.

  Nigel asked, “What did they have for us?”

  “It was a voice message from Walter Terrance. There appears to be a strong connection between the missing inspectors and Israel’s nerve agent.”

  “Did he say who has it?”

  “No. Only that we should be extremely careful with anyone we come into physical contact with. He also wants us to check in every twelve hours.”

  Gloria secured the satellite phone and they crept cautiously toward the airfield. The mid-morning heat quickly drew the water from their pores, causing the desert camouflage uniforms to cling to their bodies.

  The highest danger of movement during daylight wasn’t the possibility of being observed, but of heat prostration. To keep their bodies from overheating, they stopped often to replenish their fluids and take salt tablets.

  At the perimeter of the airfield they noticed tire tracks in the semihard crust of the sand. Most of the tread marks and the spacing between the tires indicated a jeep or similar 4-wheel drive vehicle. The imprints looked old and were worn down by the desert wind.

  One set of tracks appeared to be from a heavy equipment transport—one, perhaps, that could haul an armored vehicle.

  They made mental notes of everything they observed for their next situation report.

  The airfield’s three structures were painted in a camouflaged pattern similar to the desert uniforms they wore.

  They entered the smallest one first, each holding an M-9 Beretta 9mm pistol in an outstretched hand. The Army’s Special Operations team had lent them the pistols and most of their equipment before they were inserted.

  Seeing a vacant room, they lowered the weapons to their sides. They repeated the process in the other two buildings, maintaining their silence until the airfield was cleared.

  Nigel observed, “The airfield hasn’t been used for a very long time.”

  He noticed animal droppings on the floor of the third building and added, “At least not by anyone on two legs.”

  * * *

  They remained within the limited protection of the buildings at the abandoned airfield, taking turns observing the surrounding desert while the other attempted to catch up on some sleep.

  Nigel had used the satellite phone to coordinate a much needed ration drop, especially water. The team who had inserted them into the desert would bring the supplies under shelter of darkness after receiving the mission from the soldier monitoring communications.

  As they waited for the sun to sink below the horizon, the stirring of the sand carried by the day’s thermals began to settle, forming new designs in the ever evolving landscape.

  While this transition was taking place the sound of the desert also changed and now Nigel and Gloria heard a faint buzzing similar to the sound a mosquito makes as it flies around your head.

  Gloria glanced around to try to see the insect. “Nigel, do you hear that?”

  “Yes, it has to be here someplace—it’s getting louder.”

  The sound vibrated in the empty building as it got louder, signaling that it originated outside. They hurried to the glassless window and searched for the source.

  Seeing nothing, Nigel was headed for the door but Gloria commanded him to stop and waved him back.

  “It’s a plane.” She pointed in a direction just above the horizon.

  The small fleck that could have been a mosquito increased in size as it neared the airfield to that of a solitary, soaring bird.

  They both stepped back from the window to avoid providing a silhouette and possible reflection from their binoculars. Observing the single-engine Cessna as it came closer to the airfield, they could see that it was an Iraqi military observation plane.

  “You think they’re trying to find us?” Nigel asked.

  “Maybe, but I doubt it. We haven’t seen anyone in the last two days. It could be a routine scouting mission—but why out here in the middle of nowhere?” she wondered out loud.

  They remained absolutely still as they watched the small plane circle the airfield twice. As it approached the far end of the dusty airstrip and the landing gear touched down, the tension in the room increased.

  Simultaneously they drew their Berettas and stepped farther back from the window.

  Nigel pointed to Gloria then to the window then to himself and the door. She nodded and they took up their positions.

  The camouflaged single-engine plane roll
ed slowly down the runway, creating a dust storm from its prop wash. They could see two figures but didn’t discount someone lying unseen behind their seats.

  Twenty-five yards from the building in which Gloria and Nigel were hiding, the plane came to a stop and the engine shut down.

  Two men dressed in Iraqi military uniforms exited the plane and immediately urinated on the ground. The tall Iraqi who piloted the plane said something that made the shorter one laugh. They zipped up and stepped to a clump of brush next to the parked Cessna.

  The Iraqis talked and laughed as they pushed aside brush from the spot and revealed a door in the ground. The shorter Iraqi opened the door and descended into a hole.

  A few seconds later the taller one reached down, grasped a fuel hose and pulled it to the plane. He inserted the nozzle into the tank then yelled for the other man to start pumping.

  It took twenty minutes and numerous curses from the taller Iraqi until the fuel tank overflowed and he shut off the locking switch and yelled for the other man to stop. He dragged the hose back to the hole, where it slithered like a snake as it disappeared.

  A few minutes later, sweating profusely, the shorter man emerged from the hole and rushed to the Cessna, where he drained a canteen of water.

  The pilot closed the door and peppered it with brush and a few rocks to hold it in place while his subordinate sat in the shade of the wing getting his strength back. The pilot joined him and they sat in the shade smoking until the senior man decided it was time to leave.

  The observation plane headed down the dirt runway. When it reached the minimum speed for takeoff it went airborne, much to the relief of Gloria and Nigel.

  They remained in the building until the plane vanished in the distance. The descending sun cast long shadows as they eased out of the building and approached the hidden door.

  They pushed the brush aside and opened the door. As they suspected, they found a fuel bladder with a hand pump and hose attached.

  “Pretty ingenious,” said Gloria. “I guess the Iraqis are smarter than we’ve given them credit for.”

  “It makes sense. How else could they fly out here to the middle of the Syrian Desert and get back to one of their operational airfields in a two-seater?”

  “Did you pick up on the interchange? I understood portions of it, but the dialect was terrible.”

  “Something to do with finding the traitors. The taller one said they were better off than the ones on the ground. He had a point—at least those two’ll sleep in their own beds tonight.”

  Gloria glanced at her watch. “When will they make the drop off?”

  “We have an hour until they arrive. It’ll be totally dark by then.”

  An hour had passed when Nigel flashed the directional strobe light—two short, two long, one short—into the night sky. This was the recognition signal and would be visible to aircraft above their position, but not from the ground.

  They had been instructed to signal every fifteen minutes until the Blackhawk showed. If the Blackhawk didn’t show within forty-five minutes after the first signal, they would coordinate a different drop zone.

  As they sat in the dark, a rope dropped out of the sky beside them and the black-clad man rappelling down it jumped to the ground.

  “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” Nigel jumped up, but not before the soldier stood above him.

  The soldier slid a chem lite from his pocket and twisted it to cause the chemicals in the tube to mix and emit an eerie fluorescent glow.

  “Sorry, sir,” he said, glancing at Gloria, lovely in the glow of chem lite.

  A big smile beamed from his face. “Ma’am, I have the resupply of rations.”

  “Please cut the ma’am crap,” Gloria said with mock seriousness. “I’m not in the military and I’m not old enough to be your mother.”

  “Yes—” The soldier caught himself before he said it again. “Besides rations and water we have additional batteries for your NVGs, your phone and your GPS. Is there…anything thing else you need?”

  “Did you see anything or anyone we need to be aware of?” asked Nigel.

  “No, sir, everything’s quiet. We spotted a small truck with two civilians heading toward Ar Rutbah two nights ago, but nothing since and no Republican Guard in the vicinity.”

  “If we can have the supplies, we’ll be on our way,” said Nigel.”

  A second rope appeared beside them out of the sky dangling their supplies. The soldier unhooked the bundle and set it on the ground.

  The soldier wrapped the rope around an arm and one of his legs and winked at Gloria. He smiled broadly and said, “Call whenever you need anything—anything at all.”

  The next moment he was pulled upwards into the silent darkness and faded from sight.

  Staring intently into the night sky, they heard no sounds and could barely discern the helicopter as it came between them and the stars. A few moments passed and it receded over the horizon, hugging the contours of the desert.

  They adjusted their packs and buried the items they wouldn’t carry on the next leg of their journey. They quickly swept the ground that concealed their discards and headed toward the coordinates where the transporter had been photographed entering a shelter.

  CHAPTER 20: ALONE WITH THE GUARDIANS

  DERRICK WILLY WAS WAITING for the guardians to start snoring before he left his cot.

  The time he had been in the cave was the hardest of his life. As his strength returned, his mental state rose and fell like the tides of the ocean.

  Watching the condition of his colleagues created an anguish that almost drove him to kill both of the men who were their ‘guardians.’ But knowing it would surely result in his own death, he controlled his emotions. He had to survive and free the men who lay beside him.

  Acting like a baby was much harder than it would seem. Derrick was a devout bachelor who had never married or had kids of his own. The closest he had come to seeing infants interact was watching his fellow captives. And he had had to learn to imitate them.

  Seeing the guardians ambulate amongst the cots, cleaning the men who had soiled themselves, gave Derrick the determination he needed to endure the humiliation until he could find a way to help the men and himself.

  Now Derrick heard the deep snoring of the two men. He swung his legs over the side of his cot and sat up. He listened a few minutes before putting on his boots, which he was thankful to have found under the cot.

  In addition to the two guardians he had seen two others in the cave. They had visited the rear cavern on occasion to see whether the guardians needed anything. At least one of the men seemed to always remain inside. Where the second one went was a mystery.

  On one of his early forays, made possible by the illumination from the small lamps used by the captors, Derrick had been shocked to see the UN vehicles lined up as if waiting to be dispatched.

  As his thoughts turned to the vehicles now, it made sense. They used the vehicles to transport the inspectors. But there were more vehicles than men in the cots!

  He searched the cave, thinking that perhaps more men were being kept in other caverns, but he found no one.

  Exploring on a previous day, he had stumbled across a Chinese missile on a launcher. He suspected that it had been purchased from China, who was suspected of selling technology, even perhaps missiles, to Pakistan, North Korea and Iran. His first thought was that Iraq was hiding the weapons from the UN.

  When he found a Russian boat, he wondered why anyone would hide a boat in a cave—unless the cave lay near water.

  Today he was determined to get out into the light, even for a brief time. He needed to get his bearings if he was going to help his friends. The one thing he was sure of was that he wasn’t going to let the guardians spoon-feed him and wipe his ass much longer.

  Derrick stepped cautiously, using the shadows of the various vehicles and equipment to mask his foray. He had heard a vehicle leave two nights earlier and assumed that one of the men was goin
g to pick up supplies. After what seemed like an hour, he concluded that he was now alone with his friends and the guardians.

  He reached the front of the cave and encountered two crude but solidly built doors resting on wooden rails. Further rummaging revealed a simple pulley system that he guessed operated them, but if there was a locking mechanism he couldn’t find it.

  He said a silent prayer and pulled on the pulley ropes lightly, afraid a noise would wake the guardians—or worse, that the doors would be locked.

  But they separated without a sound and he felt a blast of the desert heat on his face as he uttered a quiet prayer of thanks.

  Having been sheltered in the cave from the sun’s intense brightness and heat, Derrick’s body was assaulted as he stepped outside.

  His first instinct was to raise his hands to protect his face from the blinding light. With both hands cupped over his eyes, he separated his fingers gradually, allowing the pupils time to adjust. The initial shock and pain subsided after a minute, making it possible for him to lower his hands.

  Seeing the expanse of desert before the cave was his second shock. The dryness of the land, with its sparse shrubbery and colorless display, was depressing.

  With considerable effort, Derrick closed the doors to the cave—the pulley mechanism was on the inside—then walked a short distance away before turning around and surveying the entrance.

  He was surprised at how well it was camouflaged into a rocky outcrop.

  He studied the ground. The single clue that the cave was occupied was a pair of tire tracks that trailed into the desert. He guessed that either the wind had blown the tracks away or the men who held them captive had erased them to hide their secret.

  The tons of rock he had seen in the floors, walls and ceilings of the cave’s chambers were the core of an immense sand dune. The tons of rock were buried under tons of sand.

  He circumvented the left side of the dune until he found a gradual path leading to the top. He struggled upward hoping to be able to look down on the river or sea by which had come the Russian boat.

  When he reached the crest he seemed to see a pale tan ocean extending for miles. The blowing wind gave the illusion of waves rising and falling as the sand was blown in one direction then in another, whirled on and on in its ceaseless eddy. But the fine particles of ocean spray held no moisture.