There was a buzzing sound from somewhere in the car, but John ignored it, his sole focus on what was happening outside.
John tuned into Ferhad’s conversation. Was he helping them or betraying them? He couldn’t follow what they were saying but observed the body language, trying to get a feel for what was going on. Ferhad was laughing, and the man on his side seemed relaxed, his left hand on the roof of the car, the shotgun in his right pointing at the ground. His beard hid the lower part of his face, but his eyes looked happy. He slapped Ferhad on the shoulder and stepped back, nodding at the man in front of the car who stepped aside. Ferhad waved out the window and pulled away slowly.
Nothing was said for five-hundred meters until Steve exclaimed, “Fuck me! I need to change my underwear.”
John realized he had been holding his breath and exhaled, the tension flowing out of him with his breath.
Mansur was saying something to Ferhad, and Ferhad burst into laughter. Mansur turned to look at Steve,
“I told him about your underwear.”
“Thanks, mate. You’re a true friend.”
“He said, don’t worry, these people all know him.”
“Hmmm, I hope so.”
John heard buzzing again, and he fished his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen. Nothing. Frowning, he turned to Steve,
“Did your phone buzz?”
“I don’t know, mate. I didn’t notice.”
“Check it. I heard buzzing.”
Steve retrieved his phone and looked at the screen. He grinned.
“It’s Mia. She’s okay.”
56
“There’s another message.” Steve excitedly scrolled down. “She says she’ll wait for us in front of the park opposite the stadium tonight.” He puffed out air in relief and looked at John. It was the happiest John had seen him since he first arrived in Dubai.
“See, Steve, I told you things would work out.” John leaned forward. “Mansur, ask him if he knows where the stadium is in Idlib. We have to go there.”
Mansur spoke to Ferhad, asked a few questions, then turned back to John.
“He does. The Al-Baladi Stadium. He said everyone knows it. Before the war, they used to play football there.”
Ferhad continued talking with Mansur, interjecting with a question now and then before Mansur turned in his seat to look at John. His face was troubled.
“What?”
“He says Hemin told him why we are here. He thinks it’s... how do you say... noble? But he says we won’t be able to get there. It’s impossible.”
“Why not?”
“That area is controlled by Hay’at Tahrir al-Shams. The enemy. There’s heavy fighting around there between the government and them. He says we can’t cross over. He says even if we could, they will probably kill us.”
“Well, we sort of knew that, anyway.”
Mansur nodded, his eyes moving from John to Steve and back again.
“So, what do we do?”
John glanced at Steve, whose face was set in a worried frown.
“Ask him how far it is from Manbij to Idlib.”
Mansur asked, then replied, “Around one hundred and fifty kilometers.”
“Hmmm, okay, let me think about it. There will be a way. There always is.” John looked at his watch and settled back in his seat. “We have a lot of time yet before we need to worry about it.”
“How can you be so relaxed?” Steve asked.
John looked over and studied Steve’s worried face.
“I’m not relaxed at all, but if I sit here worrying, I won’t come up with a solution. At least we are in the country and heading in the right direction. Two days ago, we couldn’t have imagined this.” He gestured around the car. “So, let’s just keep moving forward and take it one step at a time.”
“Mr. John is right.” Mansur agreed. “Inshallah, we will find a way.”
Steve nodded reluctantly. “So, what do I tell her?”
John thought for a moment. “Tell her to hang on. There’s no point in her waiting for us at the stadium when we don’t know yet when and how we’ll get there. Say we are on our way and will let her know later when and where to meet.”
“Okay.” Steve started typing a message into his phone.
“Mansur?”
Mansur turned in his seat. “Yes.”
“Ask him if he can take us any closer than Manbij?”
Mansur and Ferhad spoke for a while, Ferhad shaking his head and looking more and more uncomfortable.
Mansur turned back to face them.
“He says okay, he can maybe take us to Arima. It’s another fifteen kilometers, but he said it would be risky. More checkpoints, maybe fighting.”
“Okay.” John stared at the back of Mansur’s seat, thinking of what to do next. “Tell him okay and ask him if he can wait for us, maybe a day or so. We’ll double his fare. What do you think, Mansur?”
“I don’t think he’ll mind. From what he’s told me, he doesn’t have much business.”
John nodded and waited for Mansur to translate.
“He says he will wait for one day. If we are not back by then, he will leave.”
“Good, thanks.” John turned his head to look out the window as Ferhad guided the car along the road that bypassed the town. From a distance, the town looked unremarkable, the outskirts dusty and rubbish-strewn.
“We’ll have to put the bags in the back to make room for them,” John spoke aloud, as he thought.
Steve looked away from his window. “But what about the checkpoints? She won’t have any papers.”
“I was thinking about that. Let’s remember where the checkpoints are. On the way back, we’ll stop before each one, and she’ll have to climb into the trunk until we are through the checkpoint.” He turned to look at Steve and grimaced. “I know it sounds horrible, but I think it’s
