The Imam of the Cave

by J Randall

  CHAPTER 35: “DON’T RUN TOO FAR,

  YOU WILL HAVE TO RETURN THE SAME DISTANCE”

  –BIBLICAL PROVERB

  THE JOURNEY OUT OF IRAQ had been slow. The caravan of trucks and jeeps had taken secondary roads layered with little more than dirt and gravel. Seldom did more than a goatherd or a camel caravan follow these paths.

  The convoy avoided the manned border crossings and the many questions they would be asked at them, preferring to risk entrapment from the constantly moving sands.

  They had driven all night Wednesday into Thursday morning and arrived at a small village on the outskirts of Al Jawf, where local clerics had had workers erect cloth shelters in anticipation of their arrival.

  The Imam thanked Allah for his blessings in letting them arrive without a mishap.

  The village boasted two dozen stone and clay buildings, which had seen many repairs but little change since their construction two centuries earlier.

  The drivers lay sleeping under their temporary shelters, but the Imam couldn’t sleep. He roved among the drivers, listening to the rhythm of their breathing.

  Thoughts of his friend, the cleric from Jordan, occupied his mind.

  He was worried about his decision to have the cave sealed instead of just using the explosives. But the decision had been made and it was now in Allah’s hands.

  Still, he couldn’t stop worrying about his friend.

  The Imam let the drivers sleep all morning then directed them to obscure with sand brown paint the white paint and blue letters of the UN vehicles.

  Their departure from the village outside Al Jawf was delayed for two nights, however. Two of their trucks ran over broken glass shortly after setting out Thursday night and suffered more punctures than they had spare tires. They rested on the Holy Day and attended the Jum‘ah prayer at the local Mosque.

  The next leg of their trip took them over four hundred kilometers to a rest stop on the outskirts of the town of Tayma, where they arrived just before the sun began its ascent.

  That this leg of the trip had gone well, with no breakdowns, was reflected in the high spirited mood of everyone, including the Imam, as they advanced a few kilometers closer to the holy city of Mecca.

  The Imam located a telephone to call a colleague in the mosque in Mecca. “Brother, it is I. We are near Tayma, where we will rest until the sun sets. Are the masons on schedule in preparing the cave for our arrival?”

  “Brother, I was worried and was anxious to hear from you. I was told you would arrive in Tayma yesterday.” The cleric on the other end of the line sounded agitated.

  “We had mechanical problems. But all is well.”

  “All is not well—Mecca is no longer safe for you!”

  “Not safe! Why?”

  “The government got wind of the cave yesterday and sent the military to investigate. Now everyone is talking about it.”

  The Imam waited in stunned silence to hear the rest.

  “The Ministry of Islamic Affairs already has archaeologists and clerics virtually living in the cave to verify its authenticity. They questioned our masons but learned nothing. The masons were released and ordered to leave.”

  The Imam’s mouth was dry. “How could they have learned of the cave?”

  “We’re trying to find out…One of our faithful has disappeared—the one who found it.”

  “Could he have betrayed us?”

  “Not of his own free will. But many men who are stopped at police and military roadblocks are held for questioning. Nevertheless, we will continue checking here to see if we are harboring a traitor.

  “In the meantime the military are starting to question all of us about a cleric supposedly traveling from Iraq to Saudi Arabia. We don’t think they learned your name, but they’re looking for you. You must not come to Mecca!”

  “But the Prophecy of Muhammad—how will it be fulfilled if we cannot use his cave?”

  “Brother, the medallion remained hidden for centuries until Allah let it be revealed to you. When the time is right, Allah will make it known, but it is not now. You must flee Saudi Arabia before the military find you.”

  “Thank you, brother. I’ll contact you after I reach whatever destination Allah takes me to.”

  The Imam hung up the phone and silently prayed for guidance, his hand stroking the medallion that hung from his neck.

  Then he called his mosque in Baghdad. “Has my friend from Jordan arrived with the masons?”

  “We haven’t heard from him,” said the cleric in Baghdad, “but we heard from Mecca. It isn’t safe—”

  “I have been warned.”

  “Will you return to Baghdad?”

  “I do not know. I must stop during the day and pray for guidance.”

  * * *

  The Imam was no closer to knowing his final destination as they drove away from Tayma Sunday night, but he couldn’t continue toward Mecca.

  He contemplated telling the drivers to take the few vehicles needed to transport them and abandon everything else. He knew that the military were searching for them and he didn’t want a confrontation, but he decided that they would take the same route back to Iraq.

  Only a bare field greeted them back at the outskirts of Al Jawf. The shelters provided by the locals for their first stop were no longer standing.

  The Imam’s driver eyed the empty field. “Imam, where shall we park? We cannot leave everything in the open. It will be seen and the heat of the day will be unbearable.”

  “Tell the other drivers to park close together and spread their blankets between the vehicles to shade us for the day’s rest.”

  The Imam prepared to leave. “I’m going to the mosque but will return within an hour.”

  A cleric in the mosque recognized the Imam and shuffled to the entrance. “I have been expecting you. Praise Allah, who has guided you here.”

  “Praise Allah, who guides us daily,” seconded the Imam. “Have you heard news from Baghdad?”

  “I have. They told me you were headed away from Mecca but didn’t say whether you would stop in Al Jawf.”

  “Have Ehab and the masons arrived from the cave yet?”

  “No…Imam, a delivery driver was sent to check on them and he reported that the cave has been blown up. It is completely collapsed, as if the hand of Allah had smitten it into the ground.”

  The Imam’s whole body slumped and he stood there stricken for several minutes.

  He spoke at last. “I was worried…He has given everything for our cause.”

  The Imam straightened up and composed himself. “Have there been inquiries about our quest?”

  “The cleric I talked to said that neither the military nor the government has shown any interest in religious affairs. He said there’s talk that the blue hats showed up at the cave and took their men.”

  The Imam peered closely into the cleric’s eyes. “Thank you, brother. That is a sign from Allah. We shall leave for home a few hours after the sun has set tonight. We should get as far as An Nukhayb in Iraq, where we will rest during the day tomorrow…

  “Call the mosque in Baghdad and ask them to arrange a rest stop for us.”

  “I will, brother, and may Allah guide and protect you on your journey.”

  The Imam hurried back to his men, who waited patiently in a shaded valley between two of the trucks.

  He was haunted by the image of the blue hat vehicles that had passed him on the Ar Rutbah highway days earlier.

  His close friend from Jordan wouldn’t have died destroying the cave if the infidels had been satisfied with simply getting their inspectors back.

  The rage building in the Imam felt as though it might rupture his spleen or some other internal organ.

  CHAPTER 36: BACKTRACK

  THE IMAM’S ENTOURAGE was leaving Saudi Arabia and returning to Iraq, much to everyone’s relief.

  The Imam’s driver paced nervously, his sweaty brow bunched into the deep furrows of a plowed field. The worry and agitation h
e had kept to himself finally came out.

  “Imam, there was a man watching us this afternoon as we sat parked in the field.”

  “Yes, I saw him.”

  “Do you think he was watching us for the Saudi military?”

  “It’s possible, but I do not think so. If he were working with the military, he would have contacted the local authorities.”

  The Imam waved a hand in dismissal. “It is of no importance. We will be out of Saudi Arabia before the sun rises.”

  The Imam led his men in evening prayers, praising Allah and asking him to allow their continued service in the true cause of Islam. After prayers they set off toward Iraq.

  The convoy drove through the cool desert night, encountering an occasional automobile heading in the opposite direction. The Imam had instructed the drivers that they would take the paved road to the border. As they neared a point where they would be able to see the Saudi border crossing, the Imam ordered his driver to stop.

  “We are close to the border with Iraq. If what our brother in Mecca told me is true—and I have no reason to doubt it—the Saudi military will be waiting for us.”

  “If that’s so, Imam, why do we not cross through the desert?” his driver asked.

  “I have considered that, but I feel that Allah wants us to flee this land by the quickest way, and that is on this road. I need two volunteers who would serve Islam and Allah without question.”

  Every man standing before the Imam understood what serving without question meant, but they all stepped forward, each hoping for the opportunity.

  “Which of you are driving these?” the Imam asked, pointing to the two smaller trucks.

  Two men stepped forward quickly, anticipating the honor of being selected. “We do, Imam.”

  “I would like for you to drive your trucks to the border. I will be in the back of one and my driver will be in the back of the one ahead of it. When the guards stop you and ask what you have in the trucks, you will tell them it is electronics. Can you do what I ask of you?”

  “Yes, Imam,” said the first driver.”

  The second driver nodded.

  The Imam removed two gas masks, gloves and canisters of nerve agent from a bag he kept hidden in the truck.

  He handed one of each to his driver. “When the border guards stop the trucks, you must remain quiet. When they are told that the trucks carry electronics they will hurry to the rear to see what they can steal. You will ride in the lead truck, which they will check first. Wait as long as you can before you use the canister, but do not give them a chance to shoot. I will be near you and give assistance.

  “When we arrive at the Iraqi border crossing we will use the same procedure.”

  “Yes, Imam. If there are problems, what are your instructions?”

  “It is in Allah’s hands—we are his vassals and he will guide us.”

  The Imam instructed the other drivers to stay with the remaining truck and jeeps until he returned.

  One of them spoke up. “Allah forbid, Imam, but if you don’t come back...?”

  “If you do not hear from me within an hour, you must get back to Baghdad the best way you can. Allah will guide you.”

  The two small trucks left the convoy, moving slowly toward the border checkpoint. When they arrived at the Saudi barrier, the drivers stopped and waited as a lone soldier assigned to guard duty approached from the office.

  “Assalaam alaikum,” he greeted the driver of the first truck.

  “Wa alaikum Assalaam.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  The driver was surprised at the soldier’s friendliness. “We’re heading to our home in Baghdad.”

  “I wish you a pleasant trip.” He raised the barrier and waved the trucks through.

  The gas mask covering the Imam’s face had hindered his hearing the words and he was puzzled by the short stop. He assumed that the trucks were being directed off the main road to be searched.

  The trucks proceeded another two minutes then stopped at the Iraqi barrier.

  The guards had seen the trucks being cleared through the Saudi crossing and assumed there was nothing of value to take. They raised the barrier and directed the trucks to drive through without a word being spoken.

  Both trucks continued until the lead driver was sure the border guards could no longer see them, then stopped.

  “Imam, we have passed the border and are in Iraq,” the driver said quietly from the rear of the truck.

  The Imam took off his mask and stepped out of the truck.

  He glanced back toward the border. “Allah is watching over us.”

  “What will happen to the men we left behind?”

  “He who has confidence in Allah sees joy and he who trusts on him he will suffice his affairs. They are in the hands of Allah. He will guide them to Baghdad if he wills it.”

  The four men got back into the cabs of their trucks and drove through the early Tuesday morning darkness toward An Nukhayb, where they would stop for the day.

  CHAPTER 37: “LIVE TOGETHER LIKE BROTHERS AND

  DO BUSINESS LIKE STRANGERS”

  –ARAB PROVERB

  EARLY TUESDAY MORNING, following Medhat’s instructions, Nasif drove his yellow, six year old Mercedes through the outskirts of Al Jawf. They were trying to find the field where cousin Sattam had noticed the collection of trucks and jeeps the day before.

  Their search was unsuccessful and after an hour they drove to Sattam’s two-room hovel, where he lived with his third wife and six youngest children.

  The cement plaster that had been used to smooth its stone walls was cracked and crumbling. Its slow demise left a pockmarked facade of festering wounds.

  Medhat yelled from outside the rundown building, “Sattam, are you awake?”

  “I have a gun! Who are you?” spoke a hoarse male voice from inside.

  “It is I, your cousin Medhat.”

  The broken door opened without emitting any light and a man in a stained robe stepped out cautiously.

  “You should identify yourself before you speak a man’s name. I could have shot you,” Sattam scolded peevishly, brandishing a pistol that might have been used in battles during the time of the Ottoman Empire.

  “You have lived in the city too long, Medhat, and have forgotten the ways of the tribe.”

  Grudgingly, Sattam shook hands with his visitor.

  “Of course, you’re correct, Sattam, but with men like you to remind us, we’ll never forget. Forgive me…

  “What can you tell us of the cleric?”

  Sattam peered at the other men. “Who’s that with you—I don’t recognize them.”

  Sattam shuffled closer to Nasif and Omed, who were standing behind Medhat.

  “This is our cousin Nasif from Medina and his youngest, Omed.”

  “Assalaam alaikum.” Yes I remember you, cousin—you’re the bowl vendor.”

  Now that the formalities were concluded, Medhat stepped forward. “Sattam, what can you tell us about the cleric?”

  “He left town after evening prayers, but not alone. There were ten vehicles with him, including three trucks and those vehicles that are like the jeeps that soldiers drive.

  “They were all the color of sand, but seven of them had been painted recently to hide the color of bone.

  “They departed by the road that now rides on the trade route to the Syrian Desert.”

  Sattam lowered his gaze slightly. “That’s all I can tell you, as I was unable to follow him.”

  Medhat wrapped his arms around Sattam and kissed him on both cheeks. “You’ve told us more than we expected. For this the tribe owes you a debt, which I will see paid when the medallion is returned to the tribe. Ma’as-salaama, cousin.”

  The three men got into the Mercedes and drove toward the center of town, where they would wait for Nasif’s sons.

  * * *

  Later in the morning, Nasif and Medhat and the three young men sat at a wooden table in the small inn drinking tea
.

  “Alam, do you or Nabil have any questions?” Nasif had told them the story of the medallion.

  He didn’t know whether the medallion they were chasing was the tribe’s medallion, but all of the tribe members who remained were joining in the hunt.

  “Why do you want Nabil and me to visit An Najaf? Would it not be better if we went together?”

  “We have neither the time nor the people we would need to visit every city in Iraq. You have come far since I requested that you meet me here and today you must rest.”

  Nasif patted his son’s forearm. “Your cousin Mahmoud in An Najaf will be expecting your arrival on Thursday. We’ll be leaving within the hour and expect to cross the border into Iraq this afternoon. We’ll find a place to spend the night and should arrive in Baghdad tomorrow evening. I’ll give Mahmoud a telephone number where you can reach us.”

  Alam nodded. “Yes, Father. I’ll call you when Nabil and I arrive in An Najaf.”

  “Good. May Allah protect you.”

  “May Allah protect us all,” replied Alam.

  * * *

  The Mercedes stopped at the closed barrier on the Saudi side of the border at about noon.

  Medhat got out and looked around cautiously. He walked casually to the small beige customs building and talked to the border guards for ten minutes before returning.

  One of the guards lifted the barrier and smiled at the car’s occupants as he waved them through.

  The procedure at the Iraqi checkpoint was almost the same, with the exception that the Iraqi guards didn’t smile.

  Medhat sighed. “It has been many years since I was outside Saudi Arabia, but some things never change.”

  Nasif clucked. “Did the guards see the cleric cross the border last night?”

  “None of them was on duty last night, but they checked the logs for me. The Saudi log had two small trucks listed as crossing the border late last night. The destination was listed as Baghdad. The Iraqis, of course, wouldn’t have noticed if it had been three American tanks.”

  “What do you think? Could the two trucks be the ones Sattam saw?”

  “It’s possible. A group of vehicles crossing the border together would have caused suspicion and even the Iraqis would have taken an interest. The jeeps and other truck could have crossed through the desert.”