Grains of Truth (29 page)

Chapter 34

Mohamed had reacted slowly to the revelation of the true identities of Henry and Henrietta Langley. Concern for Julia hindered his ability to think of little else. Henrietta, seated beside him on the lobby sofa, told him the entire story of how the elderly couple came to be in Egypt. It was the best way she could think of to keep him from rushing out after Julia into the treacherous night.

They had met during World War II, when they were both impossibly young and blissfully innocent. Each brought up on a farm in the great Midwestern United States, they shared many values. He was a fresh-faced pilot in the Air Force, recently graduated from flight school, she, an administrator at the Air Force hospital in Langley, Virginia. The spirited pair, introduced at a U.S.O. dance one fine spring evening, laughed at the double coincidence of their names and of Henry Langley being stationed in Langley. It was love at first sight. 

They spent every possible moment together, even celebrating their twenty-first birthdays, less than a week apart. The inevitable marriage took place shortly thereafter in a civil ceremony, with one of the doctors giving Henrietta away and Henry’s commanding officer as best man. Due to war shortages, no one from either of their families had been able to attend the nuptials. Their union marked the beginning of a lifetime of love, devotion and mutual respect.

Two weeks later, orders sent Henry to London. Henrietta determinedly pursued a reassignment and soon wangled her way across the “big pond.” There, they weathered the nightly bombings, shared an admiration for the stoicism of the British people, and experienced the horror as the truth began to emerge about Adolph Hitler’s concentration camps.

It was during this time that Military Intelligence recruited Henry. He worked closely with the British and did his part to bring the war to a successful conclusion. 

At the outset, Henrietta insisted on being included in his secret work. “We’re a team,” she said adamantly, “partners.” If he was to risk his life, she would be right by his side. The recognition of her natural talent for languages and skill at deciphering codes quickly induced the British to gratefully accept her contribution to the war effort. They needed all the help they could get. 

After the war, the inseparable couple returned home, settling in Indianapolis. Henry became a flight instructor for a private company. Henrietta taught French and Spanish at a local high school and became involved in community affairs. Not being blessed with children only brought them closer. And all the while, they continued to serve their country.

On a fairly regular basis, they took nice, long vacations to foreign lands. Friends and relations envied their travels, never suspecting the trips invariably involved an undercover assignment, some quite daring and dangerous. They worked together like a well-oiled machine, protecting each other with skill and courage. Over time, their minds became so in-sync, words were almost unnecessary. This proved to be extremely useful in espionage. 

Throughout the Korean War, the Cold War, Vietnam and now the War on Terror, they remained equally devoted to each other and to their country. The older they grew, the more valuable they became as agents. Who, after all, in their right mind would suspect the mild-mannered, white-haired septuagenarians as master spies?

When Brad Caldwell had called at the last minute, they welcomed the opportunity with enthusiasm. They’d always wanted to visit Egypt. The assignment seemed straightforward enough: join a tour, keep an eye out for the newly recruited agent and report back should anything go amiss.

Once they learned more regarding the “recruitment” of the “new agent,” they shared a strong disapproval. Henrietta made her feelings known, in no uncertain terms, to Brad as well as his boss, Bob Bronson. They had worked with Bob for years and had never heard of anything this scandalous: sending an untrained, unprepared civilian out on what was clearly potentially hazardous duty.

Meeting Julia amplified their disapproval into condemnation. Her sensitivity and gentle, caring nature made her incredibly vulnerable in the volatile situation. The whole thing was just wrong.

“Team L,” as Henry and Henrietta jokingly referred to themselves, made the decision to check into the Old Cataract even before contacting Brad. Fairly fluent in Arabic, Henrietta had overheard Mohamed mention his plans of staying at the hotel to one of the boat crew. They’d both already spotted the telling bruise spreading across his cheek, and it confirmed their qualms that the situation might be starting to deteriorate.

Henry prudently got in touch with the office, resulting in Brad Caldwell and Linda Boyd hot-footing it to Aswan.

~

At first incredulous, Alexander quickly appreciated the value of the Langleys’ involvement. No one would ever suspect them as agents, and their presence could be useful in providing a cover. A thin cover, to be sure, but every little bit helped. When the unexpected faction arrived from San Francisco a few hours later, he abandoned all hope of taking a routine approach to the increasingly convoluted operation.

There was nothing routine about any of this.

Five o’clock found a hot, tired and frustrated group gathered back in Alex’s suite. After they’d all spent endless, fruitless hours of asking around town for any hint of the kidnapper’s trail, the only information gleaned was that the cousin of a brother of one of the waiters might have seen the woman described. A van similar to the one used in transporting both Alex and Mohamed may have been seen driving out of a shed on a side street late last night, heading north.

Sarah, somehow managing to suppress her frustration at her assignment as their room-bound contact liaison, had received no calls—for a ransom or anything else.

Alex surveyed the unlikely group. His incontrovertible air of authority gave him a slight advantage in attempting to direct their efforts. The more manpower he had, the better the chance for success—as long as everyone followed orders. He frowned at the notion. Mohamed and Sarah were the wild cards. There was a slim-to-none chance they might be persuaded to leave this to the professionals; but he simply would not risk the possibility of their haring off on their own and getting themselves—and possibly Julia—killed.

So, for the time being, he determined that keeping everyone together appeared the most viable plan. “As little as that tells us, it fits in with my theory, based on what I learned last night.” He reached for a map on the dresser and flipped it open on the coffee table. The others drew near to look down at a map of Egypt, including the Sinai and its bordering neighbors.

“They want the weapons delivered a few miles south of here.” He pointed with a pen to the town of Nuweiba. “Mohamed, what do you know about this area?”

Mohamed surfaced from the depth of his gloom. “It’s a seaside resort, known as the ‘pearl of the Gulf of Aqaba,’ with tourists traveling all around the area. It also has a large commercial port, with boats providing regular service to the town of Aqaba in Jordan.”

Alex nodded, the words feeding the seed of an idea. “What about the boat service?”

“Ships carry various cargos. There is also a fast boat, a hydrofoil, mostly for passengers. Tourists take that route to visit Petra, the legendary capital of the ancient Natabaean Kingdom.”

Henrietta smiled approvingly. Taking on the familiar role of lecturer seemed to have a soothing effect on the distraught Egyptologist. 

This information further supported Alex’s idea. “Here’s what we can surmise.” He made brief eye contact with each of the up-turned faces before going on. “It looks like they may be taking Julia with them to the rendezvous. We can only hope that’s the case.” His forehead wrinkled as he added, “No mention was made of her at last night’s meeting. Hopefully, they’ve concluded there’s no connection between us.”

Henrietta’s shrewd eyes searched his guarded ones at the flat statement. His voice betrayed no emotion—but at what cost?

“If the van went north, they might be headed to one of the villages along the coast of the Gulf of Suez. Somewhere they could take a boat to Sinai,” said Alex.

Mohamed interrupted eagerly. “It would either be Al Qusayr or Hurghada. Hurghada is nearest. The roads are not good but from here they are the closest towns along the coast.” His new-found enthusiasm waned. “This region,” he pointed to a large area on the map between the Gulf of Suez and the River Nile, “is not safe. Militants are known to operate there.”

Brad and Linda exchanged a guarded look. This was near where Abeer Rashad’s body was found.

Mohamed added, shaking his head, “Anyone driving in this area is required to obtain special permission from the police.”

“Where would they most likely go to reach Sinai? And where would they land when they got there?” asked Brad in a steady voice.

“Ferries run regularly from Hurghada to Sharm el Sheik, and there may be ferry service from Hurghada to El Tor, on the southwestern coast. The service can be irregular and unpredictable. Hurghada is a popular center for water sports, with many boats for hire. If they have a private boat they could go anywhere.” Mohamed’s voice again showed signs of desperation. 

Linda shook her head. “No, Mohamed, not anywhere. U.S. war ships regularly patrol the entrance to the Gulf of Aqaba these days. They wouldn’t risk being stopped there. The most likely scenario would be to take a boat to the west coast and drive from there.”

Alex nodded in agreement. “Right. Where else might they land?”

All eyes turned back to Mohamed. “The southern tip of Sinai is Ras Mohammed National Park. It is a very large and famous nature site, attracting many tourists for scuba diving and snorkeling. Security is tight there,” he said, regaining a modicum of confidence and a glimmer of hope. “It would have to be north of there.” He again pointed to the map.

“Once they make landfall, what next?” prompted Linda.

“There are two possibilities: The only road goes north or south. South leads past the entrance to Ras Mohammed, then to Sharm el-Sheikh and up the east coast through Dahab to Nuweiba.”

“Wasn’t there another terrorist attack in Sharm el-Sheik recently?” asked Henry gravely.

“There was,” confirmed Linda. “A bomb exploded in the lobby of a glitzy resort hotel. Several people died. Most of the casualties, as usual, were locals working at the hotel and a nearby café, rather than the intended victims. Security will surely have been stepped up all along that corridor.”

Mohamed’s finger traced a route on the map as he continued. “The road north meets another to cross the mountains, past St. Catherine’s Monastery and Mt. Sinai. It is a difficult drive so not well traveled. Once through the mountains, it connects with the east coast road, between Dahab and Nuweiba.”

Silence descended for a moment before Alex spoke. “Then that’s our best supposition. If they’re taking a hostage with them, it’s the most likely route.”

That’s a big-ass “if,” thought Linda Boyd, but kept it to herself.

“That’s it then,” pronounced Sarah. These were the first words she’d spoken since the others returned. All heads swiveled in her direction. Potent, unrelenting determination radiated from her clear green eyes.

“We go after her.”

~

They unanimously agreed, after extensive deliberation, to proceed with the weapons transaction. This would make them all prosecutable criminals in any court of law but possibly buy them precious time. They couldn’t risk faking it. Alex would give the go-ahead to his client at six o’clock and insist on personally overseeing delivery in Nuweiba.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team would make preparations for the trip. Mohamed and Brad were to hire a van to accommodate the seven disparate partners. Although it might make things easier, they decided against hiring a driver. Apart from the matter of space, it was impossible to count on the discretion of a stranger. Taking turns with the driving would allow them to speak freely along the way.

Their cover would be that of a tourist group, with Mohamed as their guide. 

Brad, alarmed at involving yet another civilian, suggested they split up; but this raised predictable heated opposition from Mohamed and Sarah. Unexpectedly, Alex and Henrietta agreed. Although Brad and Linda chafed at having to take them along, it appeared—all things considered—the best plan. The unlikely task force pursued an unpredictable enemy and desperately needed a diverse approach.

~

Ahmed stood looking out over the lush green field sloping down to the river, arms folded across his chest, his thoughts miles away.

The rich continue, as they have done since the beginning of time, to further enrich themselves at the expense of the poor and middle classes. Even in the supposed democratic American utopia there is restlessness and growing discontent. The Infidels never learn the lessons from the past to overcome their base instincts, perpetuating this destructive cycle. Democracy is only a euphemism for capitalism. Everything is about money. Everything.

The Western Infidels remain blinded by their relentless greed.

They refuse to deal with the disease of the conflict in Palestine—a disease of their own making—obsessed with vicious pursuit of revenge for the symptoms of that disease. The symptoms are the brave acts of heroism by the faithful Islamic Jihadists to release their Palestinian Brothers from decades of enforced poverty and humiliation. The Infidels believe they can continue to commit their acts of aggression with impunity. They now begin to learn the error of that belief.