But the police officer was already rapping on the door. “Now.”
Sameh feared Lahm had changed his mind. Obviously the prisoner did as well, because he lunged as far as his manacled wrists allowed and said, “I accept your offer.”
The door creaked loudly on its hinges. Lahm motioned to Sameh. The prisoner shouted, “I will do as you say!”
Lahm slammed the door shut behind them. The noise echoed up and down the stone hallway. “I have no right to be asking you for anything. I already owe you a debt that cannot be repaid. But ask I must.”
Bewildered, Sameh replied, “I am your humble servant.”
“My men and I are suffocating. We are as trapped as the prisoners.” The major leaned in close enough for Sameh to read the desperation in his gaze. “Take my team with you on this rescue mission.”
“I have no right-”
“If we are successful, no one will bother asking such questions. We will have an excuse to apply to the Justice Ministry for reassignment. If we fail, we deserve our fate.” He leaned in closer still. “But we will not fail.”
Chapter Thirteen
T hey circled the outskirts of Baghdad north toward the Kirkuk Highway. Which was easier said than done. This far from the city’s center, many of the roads were gravel. Road signs were a myth.
The final light of day was gradually fading over the western horizon. Sameh called his wife to say he would be late and not to worry. He explained that officers would be bringing his car home, as he was traveling to his appointment in a Ministry car. Out here, the cellphone connection was so patchy he had to call his wife back four times to complete a three-minute conversation.
Sameh and Marc rode in the lead vehicle, a Toyota Land Cruiser. Major Lahm sat in the front seat with his driver. The Palestinian had already left in another car, bound for the airport. The former gardener had offered them precise directions even before leaving the prison compound. As the Palestinian had put it, they could lie to him just as easily on the plane as they could in the prison. But behind the man’s bitterness, Sameh had detected a hint of panic. When Sameh had gently pressed, the Palestinian had confessed he feared his partners might be spurred by his absence to relocate.
Sameh spent the ride relating to Marc all the Palestinian had told them, and filling in details from his own experience. “The Palestinians have been in Iraq for some time now. At the height of Saddam’s power, before the Gulf War, Saddam used his oil revenue to foment rebellion throughout the Arab world. Any regime that opposed Saddam came under threat.”
Over his shoulder Major Lahm added, “Do not forget the role that Saddam’s Baath Party has played.”
“Saddam Hussein’s political arm was known as the Baath Party. The Baathists had three primary aims,” Sameh explained. “A secular dictatorship, free of all religious influences. Arab socialism. And military expansion.”
Major Lahm said, “Which means Saddam’s aims brought us a very special friend to the north.”
Marc supplied, “The Soviets.”
The policeman nodded. “Believe me when I tell you, if you have the Soviets for friends, you need no enemy.”
Sameh went on, “When the Palestinians’ first Intifada failed and their soldiers were forced to flee the West Bank, Saddam made them welcome. They were given passports and jobs to which they never needed to show up, except to receive their paychecks.”
“But now their easy life is over,” Major Lahm said, sounding very satisfied. “Thanks to the Americans.”
“And they have become Iraq’s most enterprising criminals,” Sameh said.
The Land Cruiser bounced over a ragged ledge, and the driver announced, “We have arrived.”
– – One minute they had been surrounded by the poorest hovels and desert scrub. The next, they were back in a semblance of civilization. The street was paved in segments, which was what caused the bump. No warning sign, just a sudden end to the gravel and a ragged rise up to fresh asphalt. The same was true for the development they entered. Large houses loomed behind concrete walls topped with broken glass and barbed wire. Between the houses were stretches of rubble, refuse, and stubborn desert scrub.
They halted in a borderland of night shadows. Ahead of them rose a line of shops, little street-side storefronts with flashing neon and music drifting through open doors. A couple of groceries, three cafes, a clothing store, a more dignified restaurant, electronics, and a hardware store. Guards patrolled the sidewalk and street in front of the shops. More guards patrolled around the neighboring homes.
Lahm said, “It is a perfect situation. Big houses, guards, and neighbors who want to know nothing. Many Westerners working the oil fields live here. They come and they go at all hours. The fields work night and day. Perfect.”
Marc asked, “Which one is it?”
“Beyond the stores and the lights. Five houses past. It stands by itself.”
“There’s a guard outside the gates.”
“Look around you,” Lahm said. “There are guards everywhere.”
“But this is a good sign, right? They wouldn’t keep a guard if they already had moved.”
Sameh realized Marc was grinning. “You find this humorous?”
“No. Sorry. It’s adrenaline.” He hesitated, then added, “And yes. It is funny. Two days ago I thought I was trapped forever in a life that fitted me about as well as a straitjacket.”
“You could die out here and be buried in a dusty grave.”
“Right. But I trust you both to watch my back.”
Sameh found himself flooded with a fear so intense it almost choked him. “You Americans talk of trust like it is something you can pull from your wallet.”
“Back when I worked in Washington, some of my superiors liked to take a new subordinate out and get them roaring drunk. They felt that was the best way to test a person’s core. The staffer’s inhibitions fell away, showing who he was inside. Angry, hurt, depressed, aggressive, problems at home, whatever. The problem was, I don’t drink. Which meant a lot of these guys would never trust me. But my boss, the man who sent me over, had a different idea. He said the best way to test a person was by studying how they faced fear. Both of you face fear honestly. I like that.”
The major said in Arabic, “I thought you said he was a bookkeeper.”
“He used to be an intelligence agent.”
“Why the change?”
“Perhaps you should ask him.”
Instead, the major studied the American with an unblinking gaze.
Finally Sameh asked Marc, “Are you afraid now?”
“I’ve been scared since the jet’s wheels touched Iraqi soil.”
Major Lahm nodded, then said, “There is a problem. We cannot attack in force without risking the lives of the children.”
That was another item the Palestinian had mentioned. How there were other children. Which Sameh and Lahm had suspected all along. Marc stared out the front windshield at the street and the house and the night. “I have an idea.”
As the American described his plan, Sameh realized an invisible line had been crossed. Somehow the young man seated beside him had done the impossible. A Shia police officer and a Christian attorney, two men who had survived by distrusting all strangers, had come to treat Marc as an ally.
And something more.
They considered him an equal.
When Marc was finished, Major Lahm said, “I can send one of my own men to do this thing.”
“You and your men are trained to attack. I’m trained to be invisible.”
“But you are the newcomer. This is my world.”
