“Let’s put her here,” Leo said gently, gesturing to the tub over a weighing scale. Paper-thin skin covered the baby’s bony arms. Yara assisted the doctor in weighing the child and was shocked to discover her forearm only measured a few centimeters.
Afterward, she stood back and let the translator help Leo explain the situation, dispensing medication and nutritional supplements.
Rice, oil, and salt were staples, but Yara pushed for the purchase of lentils and legumes which would provide higher nutritional content. They also had a crate filled with baby formula. Jill and a food safety specialist occupied a corner of the health-center tent to teach each family the importance of clean water and hygiene to prepare not only the formula but the rest of their food. Bringing a baby back to a healthy weight only to have him stricken by cholera a few months later would be discouraging for everyone involved.
Eight hours into their day, Yara took a break from the health tent, checked on Jeff, and then wandered the site as Stryker followed her discreetly. Her back and limbs hurt, but she berated herself for her complaints, remembering how the mother and children who made the journey from Jutab for god knows how long to save the youngest member of their family.
Tents flapped in the temporary campsite. She was beginning to understand what Jill pointed out in the briefing. The reason the citizens of Yemen fell into this desolate existence was because of the failure of the people they elected into office to take care of them.
Schools bombed, water treatment plants destroyed … for what?
For power? Greed? Religion?
Off in the distance, a mass of dark dots, mixed with colorful ones, moved closer. More people were coming in. Some would arrive on foot, some would arrive on donkeys more emaciated than their masters. Some children might not survive the journey.
Her chest tightened. The futility of the situation was taking its toll. Would it ever be enough?
“Yara!” She turned to see Derrick Mitchell jogging toward her.
“Where have you been all day?” Stryker asked the young man. “Taking care of shit?”
“That’s one way of putting it.” Derrick grimaced. “I was designing the latrines with the other engineers and making suggestions. Told you I was helping Tariq on a project.”
“What project?” Yara asked. And why wasn’t she informed?
Her face must have shown her displeasure.
“Come on.” Derrick nodded to the direction of their Land Cruiser. “He wanted it to be a surprise.”
Curious and a tad excited because of the enthusiasm on Derrick’s face, Yara walked over to Jeff to see if he wanted to come along.
“Exhausted, sweetie. Might head back to the compound soon.”
“Want us to take you?”
“Nah, you go ahead. I’ll catch a ride with my pal from the UN. Said he was leaving in fifteen.”
“Okay.” Yara pursed her lips. “Sure you’ll be okay?”
“Go. Let this old man rest.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Yara hesitated to leave him. He seemed to have aged so much in the past few years.
She texted Leo, letting him know that Derrick was with her, and not to forget Jill when the doctor returned to the compound.
The Land Cruiser traversed the road winding around Mount Sabr which overlooked the city of Taiz like a giant sentinel. Houses of various shapes and sizes dotted the slope and they passed the famous Cairo Castle which had reopened after the rebels abandoned it. The Saudi coalition dropped a bomb on the landmark and damaged the outer walls, but after speaking with Taiz locals, there was hope that it could be repaired.
Yara was determined more than ever to make the voices of the locals heard. There was a lot of culture here, some existing even hundreds of years BC. In addition to having their food on the table and living a dignified existence, Taiz locals deserved to have their heritage preserved.
“Where are we going?” Yara asked. She enjoyed the scenery, but she was more fired up to go back to the compound and write a report of the ERAF mission. She wouldn’t be able to understand the stakes in three weeks. She needed to be here at least three months.
Sully was going to flip, but what would he do? Ground her?
She missed her father and mother.
The road became steeper until it reduced to a single lane and then the pavement ended, turning into gravel and mud. Deep tracks of big tires indicated a massive truck had passed through recently.
When their vehicle arrived in a clearing, Yara’s brows furrowed at the sight of the construction before her. There was a rectangular hole in the ground that looked like a rock-laden shallow swimming pool. Tariq stood at its edge, staring at whatever was at the bottom. Derrick parked the vehicle beside another Land Cruiser. They exited the car. Yara tucked her hands inside the back pocket of her linen safari trousers and walked up to her friend.
“Tariq, what’s this? A swimming pool?”
Tariq laughed. “No, sunshine, what we have here is an aquifer.”
Yara returned her attention to the hole in the ground. Locating aquifers in drought-stricken areas was a coveted find. Studies showed clean water was the ultimate solution to famine and overpopulation. Yara didn’t exactly buy into the overarching theory just yet, but a country like Yemen needed all the help it could get.
“Or attempt at a man-made aquifer,” Derrick said.
She folded her arms over her chest. “Tariq or Derrick, care to explain the plan?”
Tariq tossed a bag of white legumes at her. She sidestepped and it landed on the ground. “What the hell?”
He laughed again. “Pick it up.”
She sighed in irritation but did as she was told. The weight was a bit heavier than what it would look like and she’d never seen beans like this …
“They look like white fava beans?”
She peered into the ground. “Why are you dumping beans into the ground! Oh my god! Have you seen how many people we need to feed?”
“Yara, open the damned bag,” Tariq ordered.
Balancing the bag, she tore the plastic and dug some of the beans out. She squeezed them. “What the hell are these?”
The beans were as hard as rocks.
“Hydrobeans,” Derrick piped in excitedly.
“Not repeating that,” Yara said, handing the bag to Stryker. “But please explain.”
“What are the three things people need the most?” Tariq asked.
“Food, fuel, and water,” Yara replied automatically, then she amended. “Clean water.”
“Right.” Tariq pointed at the sky. “Taiz has a whopping average annual rainfall of 1000 millimeters compared to the rest of the country, which sees only 127 millimeters in Aden and 240 millimeters in Sana’a. Clean water is the top issue.”
“How do the beans help?”
“The hydrobeans are made of volcanic rock, one of the most porous materials to support an aquifer,” Tariq said. “It maintains a good water table for our groundwater supply.”
“Rain water is clean,” Derrick added. “But there’s a lot of runoff because some features of the soil here are not porous enough to allow the rainwater to reach the natural aquifers several meters below ground. We need a way to collect the rainwater and recharge the ground water by harnessing natural methods of water preservation. Thus, the hydrobeans.”
“Okay, let’s back up,” Yara said, holding up a hand. “First of all, where did the beans come from?”
“Hydrobeans,” Derrick corrected.
“Coeur D’eau,” Tariq said.
“Our supplier of water purifiers?”
“Yep. And Massoud Rostami had already earmarked two hundred and fifty million dollars for this project. All we have to do is to prove it works. It looks very promising, Yara.”
She crossed her arms and eyed her friend. “Why wasn’t I informed of this project? Does Uncle Jeff know?”
“Nope. Rostami and I were in contact about the project. Your mom introduced us actually.”
“Was i
t during the Earth summit in Sweden?” Yara vaguely remembered her mom talking about a prospective project with Tariq.
Her friend nodded. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Rostami wants to keep it under wraps. He was worried the Saudi coalition would block the technology.”
“These were the legumes in the manifest?”
Tariq smirked. “Yes.”
“I sure hope there were actual legumes in our shipment.”
“There were, sunshine.” He chuckled. “You better hang on to this kid here.” Referring to Derrick. “Have you read his college thesis?”
“Yes. The one for artificial aquifers for densely populated areas?”
Tariq nodded. “If this technology proves feasible, we can move the production of the hydrobeans to Africa using other materials. We also have a water sensor prototype that could detect water levels and rate of recharge. Rostami and I believe that bio-technology is the way to go for foreign aid.”
They spent a few moments staring at the hole in the ground, filled up halfway with white volcanic stone beans.
“We never talked about it.” Her friend glanced at her with regret.
“If it’s about Kade Spear, I have nothing to say.”
“I was surprised to get an anonymous text to go to the port and check the cargo.”
Yara stilled. “And instead you found Kade and the general? You think someone’s manipulating us? Trying to stop the peace talks?”
Before Tariq could reply, his phone buzzed. He frowned at the number and immediately answered it.
Yara took the opportunity to check messages on her phone, but she had no signal.
“What?” Tariq’s face mottled in anger. “I’ll be right there.”
He ended the call, looking at Yara grimly. “Assassins infiltrated my uncle’s house.”
Her heart slammed into her throat. “Is he alright?”
“Yes, but I need you to leave now.”
“What’s going on?” Stryker asked.
“I need to see my uncle.” Tariq walked to the other SUV. “Go back to the compound and keep your phone close.”
Anxiety crawled up her spine. “Are we expecting trouble?”
“The ceasefire is in jeopardy,” Tariq said. “I need to convince my uncle not to retaliate.” He looked at Stryker. “Worst-case scenario, we have to evacuate everyone.”
16
The rays of the setting sun cast Mount Sabr in deep golden colors, but it was the encroaching darkness that drew Yara’s attention.
Concern for the aid workers was at the forefront of her mind but worry for the Yemenis who’d come to their camp for aid was not far behind. The relief on their faces, as if the aid workers were their saviors, gave everyone the fortitude to go on despite the back-breaking work.
Yara was pissed that whoever instigated the assassination attempt could put the whole humanitarian mission in peril.
“You think Kade’s group was behind it?” She scooted between the two front seats. Stryker was driving, Derrick was riding shotgun.
Her bodyguard’s eyes met hers in the mirror. “Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
“You seemed eager to beat on Kade and his gang of hooligans the first time you met them.”
“I’ve run into Spear before,” Stryker said carefully. “His team gets the job done. If that was SSRR who went after Nasir and failed, it would be extremely unlike them.”
“You mercenaries stick together, don’t you?” Yara delivered her scathing reply before she flopped back in her seat and crossed her arms.
“Shit,” Derrick muttered.
“What?” Yara leaned forward.
“Both of you. Seatbelts.” Stryker’s voice was terse.
Coming at them from the opposite lane was a convoy of pickups. Standing behind the cab of the vehicle were men clad in civilian clothes holding up AK-47s.
“Who are they?” Derrick asked.
Yara exhaled with relief when the convoy passed them. Some of them had machine guns mounted on the beds.
“My guess?” Stryker checked the rearview mirror. “Militia.”
“Whose militia? Nasir’s?”
Her bodyguard snorted. “They belong to whoever pays their price.”
“Like guns for hire?” the water engineer asked.
“Yep.”
Yara gave an inward snort. It seemed Yemen had its own version of mercenaries.
“And the ceasefire?” Derrick’s voice was strangled.
“Looks like shit’s about to hit the fan,” Stryker replied. Derrick shifted in his seat, muttering unintelligible curses. The streets leading to their compound were a study of chaos and eerie silence. In some areas, cafés were packed with crowds glued to the television as other people stood outside huddled in deep conversation. Other neighborhoods, once alive with children playing outside their homes before dinner time, were now utterly silent. Streetlights illuminated structures, walls and houses in spotlights of white and fringes of shadows.
Stryker cursed just as light illuminated the interior of their vehicle.
Yara twisted in her seat and looked behind her. “Are those …”
“The militia,” her bodyguard clipped.
“Are they following us?” Yara asked. They were still far away, but closing in fast.
Stryker didn’t answer her and radioed the guardhouse of the compound, letting them know they were coming. Yara noted the tower guard’s shadow and the opening gates.
“Might be a militia behind us,” Stryker told the guard. “Get UN security and stall them.”
Their vehicle entered the compound which was buzzing with activity. Tension bounced off Stryker as he impatiently navigated around vehicles and people. Off to one side, a UN representative was talking to another NGO head, while the other aid workers hurried around with their phones to their ears. Her phone pinged in her hand. She flipped it over and read a group message from the UN head in Yemen calling for a multi-agency meeting in an hour.
“Tell everyone to pack their go-bags.” Stryker looked at her in the rearview mirror.
“We are not leaving,” Yara said.
“Ms. Emerson, those bombs start flying, you do not want to be here.”
“We can’t abandon the families and children at the border.”
Their Land Cruiser screeched to a halt in front of their building. Stryker jumped out of the SUV and yanked the door to her side open. “That’s the job for the UN, not us. That’s the job of the Nasir Rebels, not us.” He leaned forward and gritted, “That’s the job for the Saudi coalition. Not us. See a pattern here? Get out of the car.”
Stryker’s face brooked no argument and she complied. They hurried into the house and were met by Jeff.
“Where have you been? The assassination attempt on Nasir is all over the news.” Without waiting for her reply, Jeff addressed Stryker. “The guard at the gate called. Nasir’s soldiers want to talk to Yara and me, but you told the guard to hold them off. Should we be worried?”
“I’ll handle it,” Stryker replied, face grim. “We might have to evacuate. Pack your go-bag, Mr. Kennedy.”
“Haven’t unpacked, so I’m good. If you’re going to handle Nasir’s soldiers, I have something to discuss with the UN head.”
“Go ahead,” Stryker told him. Jeff gave her shoulder a squeeze, moved past her, and left the house.
“Listen up, people,” Stryker addressed everyone congregated in the living room. “Pack your go-bags. Make sure you have everything you need. Meeting with the UN”—he glanced at his watch—“in forty-five minutes. Meeting back at six-thirty. Chop-chop.”
The crowd in the living room dispersed.
Stryker practically pushed her into the hallway leading to her room. She shot him a glare over her shoulder, but he was already sprinting for the exit, probably to see what Nasir’s soldiers wanted. The seed of tension now erupted into a ball of anxiety and bubbled up her throat. Did Tariq’s uncle blame her for the attempt on his life? That thought
spurred an urgency to her movements. She began shoving basic necessities into her backpack—a charged cellphone, water purifiers, a first aid kit, some toiletries. If they hauled her away, would they allow her to bring her backpack?
A rap on her door made her jump.
Ugh! Stryker had been annoying her this evening. Scowling, she stalked to the door and yanked it open.
“It hasn’t been …” Her voice died in her throat.
It wasn’t Stryker.
It was Kade.
“How … ump.”
A big hand covered her mouth as she was pulled into a wall of muscle. Her body backed into the room without her moving it and the bedroom door was kicked closed.
Steely eyes stared down at her. “You gonna be quiet?”
“Hmmph!” Motherfucker. Son of a bitch. Son of Satan. Frustrated that she couldn’t curse at him, she used her eyes to communicate her fury. He was dressed like the other security teams, in fatigues and a dark form-fitting athletic-cut shirt.
An arrogant brow lifted. “Do I have to gag you?”
She shook her head.
He released her mouth, keeping his palm a hair’s breadth away, testing her word to keep quiet. He kept her body flushed against his; she hated herself for feeling relief as if Kade was a security blanket against the chaos happening around them.
What is wrong with me?
“You’ve got nerve showing up here,” she hissed. “What’s the matter? Nasir hunting you down and you have to hide behind the flag of the UN?”
“I had nothing to do with the targeted assassination on Nasir.” He paused. “Not anymore.”
“Give me a break. And will you please let me go!”
Kade contemplated her for a beat then released her.
Yara scampered back a few steps. “Why are you here?”
“You.”
“What?”
“Nasir’s soldiers are at the gate.”
“I know that, but—”
“We have to move quickly, Tink. The general will be coming for you too.”
“What does he want from me?”
“Nothing’s confirmed, but he thinks you have something on him.”
The Princess And The Mercenary Page 12