“Who else would it be?” said the man.
“I could think of at least a half-dozen colonels, all of them younger than you,” said Adin.
“Yes, but none of them as good. It’s getting a little warm inside,” said the man. “Do you mind if we join you?”
“What if I said yes?” Adin smiled up at him.
“Then to hell with you.” Wearing military fatigues and combat boots, the man looked considerably older than Adin, maybe in his late forties or early fifties. He climbed down using the red cargo netting suspended from the inside wall of the plane. Regardless of his age he was quite fit, short, and stocky, his face tanned as if he’d lived his life on a golf course in Palm Springs. His balding forehead was etched with craggy lines and deep furrows. His most memorable feature was his beaming smile. “This the young lady you were telling me about?”
“What has he been saying?” said Sarah.
“Allow me to introduce you. Sarah Madriani, this old man is Teo Ben Rabin. Colonel Ben Rabin to some. But you can just call him Uncle Ben,” said Adin.
“Only behind my back,” said Ben Rabin.
“And do yourself a favor,” said Adin. “Don’t believe anything he says.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sarah smiled, nodded, and shook his hand.
“Teo, I’d like you to meet Herman Diggs.”
Ben Rabin stepped gingerly around the dog, keeping a little distance. “I like to keep all my fingers,” he said.
“Mr. Diggs is our navigator for this trip,” said Adin. “By force of character, you might say. He refused to tell us where we were going unless we took him along.”
“A man after my own heart,” said Ben Rabin. “Shalom. Welcome aboard.”
Herman nodded and shook his hand.
“Are you feeling all right?” said Ben Rabin. He was looking at Herman.
“I’m not great in airplanes,” said Herman. “Specially with the fuel tank and the fumes, sittin’ sideways like this.”
“You’re looking a little green around the gills,” said Ben Rabin. “You want, I will find you a seat up top with the flight crew. The air up there is a little better.”
“Might take you up on that,” said Herman.
“Give me a minute.”
Herman nodded.
“I take it he’s not really your uncle.” Sarah looked at Adin.
“Only in spirit,” he told her. “The colonel is a man with many nephews.”
Ben Rabin pounded on the side of the steel container. “You can come out now!” He yelled at the top of his voice. “The rest of my relatives.” He looked at Sarah and smiled. “We were beginning to wonder how long it was going to take before we got airborne. It is damn hot in there.”
“Makes you wonder what it was like in the Trojan Horse?” said Adin.
“Something like that.”
A few seconds later, men began to crawl out over the edge of the steel container, all in camo-green battle fatigues and heavy boots.
“How many did you bring?” said Adin.
“One platoon,” said Ben Rabin. “Eighteen was all we could fit. Like sardines in a can.”
“What about the other container?” said Adin.
“Equipment. Ground transport, one Desert Raider with a mounted 105-millimeter recoilless rifle, and one equipment trailer. The trailer will have to do double duty,” said Ben Rabin. “Transport both men and equipment. Do we know how far we’re going to have to go once we hit the ground?”
“I don’t know anything yet. We’ll have to talk to Mr. Diggs.” Adin turned and looked at Herman.
“What are you expecting, World War III?” said Herman.
“Could very well be,” said Ben Rabin. “Do you have any idea what we’re going to be dealing with when we get down there?”
“Not a clue,” said Herman.
“You do know where we’re going?” said Adin.
“A general idea,” said Herman.
Adin gave Ben Rabin a look as if to say “the blind leading the blind.”
By now the soldiers were wandering up and down inside the belly of the plane, working on the two containers, pulling out equipment and arms, loaded backpacks, staging it all in the narrow aisle between the large fuel tank and the two metal containers. Most of the men appeared to be slightly older than the usual soldier, in their late twenties or early thirties, some of them sporting longer hair. Ben Rabin turned his attention to give them a hand.
“Who are they?” asked Herman.
“What do you mean? Oh, them. Just Israeli Defense Forces,” said Adin.
“Yeah, and I’m the Pied Piper,” said Herman.
“Wouldn’t mean anything to you if I told you,” said Adin.
“Try me.”
“Special forces,” said Adin.
“S-13?” said Herman.
Adin gave him a look. “How would you know about that?”
“Lucky guess,” said Herman. That and the shoulder patch of the Shayetet 13, the anchor, sword, and shield emblazoned over the bat wings.
“What is S-13?” asked Sarah.
“If your dad is where these people are going, I’d say he’s in some serious trouble,” said Herman. Then he leaned into her ear and whispered. “Shayetet 13 are naval commandos, cross between the Seals and Delta Force. They don’t usually show up for a party unless somebody’s gonna get shot.”
The news settled on Sarah like ether, but Bugsy wanted to join the soldiers. Seeing all the movement and commotions excited him. He was like a kid who wanted to join the activity. Every once in a while one of the soldiers would lean in and pet him. He didn’t seem to mind.
“You can let him go,” said Adin. “It’s better if he gets their scent.”
Sarah let loose of the leash. Adin unclipped it from the dog’s collar and let him run.
“You and I need to go up forward and look at some maps,” he told Herman. They got to their feet and went toward the ladder leading up to the flight deck. Sarah followed.
“When we get on the ground, I’m going to ask both of you to stay onboard the plane,” said Adin.
“We’ll have to talk about that,” said Herman.
“This is not negotiable,” said Adin. “Depending on where we land, we may not have much time. We’ll offload the vehicle and a stacked trailer from the other container. That’s ground transport for the men and their equipment. Once we’re on the ground we’ll get going in less than a minute. You’re just going to be in the way. It’s very likely that the plane is going to have to take off again.”
“Why’s that?” said Herman.
“Because we won’t be landing at an airport with customs and immigrations,” said Adin. “It will be an unimproved field. We won’t know precisely where until you give us your information. Your background indicates you worked in Mexico…”
“How do you know that?” said Herman.
“Never mind,” said Adin. “The point is, you know as well as I do what an unimproved field in Mexico means.”
“Drugs,” said Herman.
Adin nodded. “The pilot is going to want to turn it around and get back in the air as fast as he can.”
“Understood,” said Herman.
“Good,” said Adin. “Stay right here.” Adin climbed the ladder up toward the flight cabin. He knocked on the metal door, and someone inside opened it.
Neither Sarah nor Herman could hear what was being said up in the flight cabin over the din of the four large
