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Summary: A
terrorist attack leads to major changes in Madari's life. |
Rating: PG13 |
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September
1994 No tears. Not now, on the plane home.
There'd been tears back on the ground. However strong a man, he shouldn't be
ashamed to weep for a fallen friend while the smoke was still drifting across
the battlefield and his ears still rang from the gunfire and explosions. Jahni glanced at the three body
bags in the back of the plane and then
back around at his men. Quiet, grim-faced on the benches, strapped into their
harnesses. Nobody slept. Usually most of them did on the way home, but not
tonight. But no tears. That time had
passed. Hours ago, as the attack on the training camp ended and they counted
their dead and wounded. The wounded had already gone
ahead, airlifted in helicopters, leaving the rest behind to bring home their
dead. A surge of bile rose in Jahni's throat as he thought of the first time
they'd attacked one of these training camps. How he'd felt disappointed at
finding it deserted and not getting a fight. What a damn fool he was. Three
more in the year since then and a harder fight every time. And last night,
the first deaths. He looked at Madari, on his bench
seat, but not in his harness. Dammit,
he could be hurt if we hit turbulence. His legs were stretched in front
of him, sprawled almost, as if he'd simply dropped into his seat untidily and
stayed in that position. Like everyone else he was silent, grim, eyes staring
off into the distance. A blood stain on his face, the tracks of tears through
it, reminded Jahni that they'd had no time to clean up since they came down
from the mountain. And it reminded him that the stain was another man's
blood, placed there as Madari held the dying soldier, the man touching his
commander's face, even as he called out for his father and mother and then
fell silent before medevac could reach them. I
will not weep. Not now. That time has passed.
But he hadn't wept then either. He'd felt rage and grief, but he'd determined
to stay strong for the men. Madari could show his grief with tears and the
men loved him for it, knew it meant he loved them, would mourn any of them.
But Jahni had to stay strong. Madari must have sensed his gaze.
He turned his head, some of the hollowness vanishing from his eyes as they
met Jahni's. Jahni didn't turn away. Yes, he'd been staring. He didn't try to
deny it by looking away guiltily. He kept looking. Asking with his eyes. Are you okay? What can I do? Nothing.
He could do nothing. Not here. And not when they landed back home either. This journey would happen again, Jahni
knew. They had stationed men in the mountains now. Experts in wilderness
survival, living out there for weeks at a time, like the nomads, they'd soon found
more like that first training camp. Interesting tactic, Madari had observed.
Rather than one big camp, many small ones, so it's harder to eliminate them, and
it trained the men to work in small bands, just as they would work in small
terrorist cells back in the city. So far the questioning of prisoners
indicated that most of the men knew of the locations of only one or two other
camps. One man could never betray the whole network. Well, perhaps one man. Saifullah. His name had started to
appear daubed on walls in Az-Ma'ir. And in pamphlets decrying the modernising
of the country. Calling the King an enemy of Islam. A traitor. Bastards. They'd pay. For Jahni's
dead men. For the pain in Madari's eyes. They'd pay. The terrorists trained in the
hills, but Jahni knew they'd then come back to the city, or to other towns
all over the country, forming cells, planning atrocities. There had been
three bombings in the city this years. Twenty-six dead civilians. Bastards. Madari leaned across suddenly and
spoke softly to Jahni. "Are you all right?" The question startled Jahni. What
had been showing on his face? Anger? Pain? He couldn't allow the latter. He
needed to be strong. "I'm okay." "Try to sleep," Madari
said, glancing at his watch. "There's still at least two hours before we
land." To keep Madari happy, Jahni closed
his eyes, though knew he wouldn't sleep. It wasn't the noise of the engines,
or the vibration of the wall at his back, or the uncomfortable seat. It was
the bodies. How could he sleep with the bodies there? Though hidden in body
bags, Jahni could only see them as he had on the battlefield - bloodied and
broken. Lying on the dusty ground while their comrades avenged them and then
cried for them when the enemy was defeated. He saw nothing else for the rest
of the journey. ~~~~ Transport waited at the airport.
Madari talked to the men before they climbed into trucks or cars to head back
to the barracks or their homes. Jahni waited for him, sitting sideways in the
passenger seat of Madari's staff car, feet on the ground, too numb to do
anything useful. Could only watch as, inside a hanger, a staff officer from
the barracks supervised the removal of the bodies. Rahama would have an officer at
the house of each of the dead men's families already and Madari would have to
go to pay his own respects to the families too. Should Jahni go with him?
There was no specific protocol that said he should, but he'd like to be there
to support him, however hard it would feel for himself, to face the wives, parents
or even children... He couldn't even remember if any of the dead men had children. Madari's driver, Sijad, waiting
beside the car, spoke suddenly. "I've got a flask of coffee in the car,
Captain. Would you like some?" Jahni looked up into a worried
expression on the man's face. "Thank you, Sergeant." As Sijad
handed him the small cup, the van carrying the bodies drove away and men
closed the hanger doors, cutting off the light that flooded from inside. Perhaps
now I can weep. In the darkness. No, it wasn't dark enough. The
interior light of the staff car and the airport's lights, gave enough illumination
for him to see Madari coming over to the car, the other vehicles all gone
now. "Let's take you home,"
Madari said, resting a hand on Jahni's shoulder. In a few minutes they were
speeding through the dark streets in the direction of Jahni's flat. Still his
same little flat. His inheritance money remained almost untouched. Madari surprised Jahni by putting
an arm around him and he glanced forward at Sijad then at Madari, with a
warning look. But Madari took no apparent heed of the warning. Didn't even
seem to notice it. For that matter, Sijad didn't seem to notice anything
either. "Kahil, the mission was a
success. Don't forget that. You led the men well, as you always do. The enemy
was perhaps better trained than we've encountered before. You can't blame
yourself for the casualties. We knew this day would come." They'd lost so few men so far. But
their work was changing. They faced better-armed, better-trained and more
ruthless enemies now. This – and worse – would happen again. "I want you well away from
the combat zone next time," Jahni said. "You were too close
tonight." "We'll discuss that at the
debrief." He looked up as Sijad stopped at Jahni's building and they
both got out of the car, Jahni again taken by surprise. "Please, rest,
Kahil. Take your forty-eight hours and don't let me see you before
then." "You'll be in, won't
you?" Jahni said. "I don't have a choice,"
Madari said. "Not this time." He added the last part in a near
whisper. Of course, he'd have to go to visit the families. Jahni didn't say anything to the
effect that he'd be in too. It would sound like a challenge and he didn't
have the strength for a fight. He looked up at his building and back at the
car, knowing where it was taking Madari after this and wanted to ask him to
stay here. Let Jahni hold him and take away his grief and pain. But of
course, he couldn't do that. Someone else had that privilege. In lieu of that he embraced Madari.
A reminder. I'm here, when you need my
strength. When yours and hers isn't enough. Madari at once returned the
embrace and his voice whispered softly in Jahni's ear. "I know. I understand. Please
rest, Kahil." ~~~~ Madari waited until he saw the
light go on in Jahni's flat before he got back into the car and told Sijad to
drive on. "Captain's taking it
hard," Sijad said after a few minutes. His voice was cautious, but
Madari didn't reprimand him for impertinence. Sijad had taken them home after
various missions, he'd seen them at their weakest and Madari trusted him. Besides, he was right. Kahil
seemed so fragile that it had been hard to leave him alone. But Madari could
hardly have gone up to the flat and told Sijad to just go back to barracks.
He couldn't trust his driver's discretion quite that far. "We're all taking it hard,"
Madari said. At least he had some comfort to go home to. Jahni was alone. A
mad urge to tell Sijad to turn around and take him back there rose. He
stamped it back down. "Colonel Rahama said to ask
you to report to him at eight tomorrow, sir." A glance at his watch told Madari
it was almost two. Would he manage to sleep tonight anyway? Would exhaustion
force him to? He stayed quiet the rest of the
way to Sophia's. His temporary home while the hole blown in his roof
underwent repairs. Actually the repairs were finished, according to the
builder. But he decided some redecoration was in order too. So he was still
staying with Sophia. Almost a month now. The flat was dark when he let
himself in with the key she'd given him. The bedroom door stood open though
and he stopped there, saw her stir in the bed, though he felt sure he'd been
silent. "Faris?" she said, a
little fear in her voice at the sight of a dark figure looming at her bedroom
door. "Yes." He wanted to walk
in, fall into her arms, but he needed to get out of his bloodstained clothes
and wash the dirt and blood from his skin first. "I'll take a shower.
I'll just be a few minutes." The warm water washed away the
blood of his wounded and dead soldiers and the tracks of his own tears for
them. Jahni would already be done with his shower. And gone to bed? Or pacing,
images of battle still too raw to allow sleep? The images were raw for him too,
but Madari had to sleep. Jahni had
orders to rest for forty eight hours, but Madari had to report to Rahama in
less than six. His sleeping pills sat in the bathroom cabinet and, after he
towelled himself dry and put on pyjama trousers, he swallowed two with a gulp
of water from the tooth glass. His gaunt face looked back at him from the
mirror when he replaced the bottle and closed the cabinet. Just need some rest. Though
fragile looking now, he felt stronger than he had for many years. Albania had
seen to that - seeing Sevchenko die. And bringing his friends here to protect
them, all standing together to fight off the attack. He'd felt so strong that
night. He would not let this loss unman
him now. He'd lost men before. Any commander who couldn't deal with that
would go mad. He had the strength. For the unit, and for Kahil. Rubbing a hand over his
gritty-feeling eyes, he walked into the bedroom, to find Sophia had the
bedside lamp on and was sitting up, waiting for him. She pulled the sheets
back to let him into bed and took him in her arms. She knew, he thought. Some
kind of female instinct perhaps, to see right into a man's heart. "Was it very bad?" she
asked softly. "We lost three men." Her lips pressed softly to his
forehead. "I'm so sorry." "Kahil is taking it
badly." "And you?" "I'm the commander. I
cope." "With me, you're only Faris.
You don't have to cope." He turned his face to press into
her shoulder and she held him. When his tears stopped and he felt his eyes
were too heavy to keep from closing he managed the words, "I must be up
at seven," before the exhaustion and the drugs pulled him down into the
darkness. ~~~~ Another woman might have let Madari
sleep beyond seven, and say Rahama would have to wait, but Sophia understood
him and the demands of his military life better than that. She woke him at
seven with coffee, though she didn't look pleased about it. He couldn't say he was pleased
either. How pleasant it would be to stay here in bed and rest, with her taking
care of him. But he wasn't only Faris. He was the commander and he had to
cope. At exactly seven-thirty he left, carrying the memory of her worried
look. Rahama looked grave when Madari
reported to the office and continued grave through the debriefing. When it
was over, Madari rose. "If you'll excuse me, sir. I
need to check on the wounded and then I need to go and visit the families of
the deceased." "One more thing. Sit
down." Madari did so, nervous of Rahama's
now stern expression. What had he done to deserve that look? "I almost changed my mind
about bringing this up with you now, after what's happened. But if not now,
when?" "Sir?" "Faris, I've been trying to
drop hints for some months now, but for a man who is usually quite sensitive
you seem to be entirely oblivious." Hints? What would Rahama hint
about? He was the commanding officer. If he wanted Madari to do something he
would simply give an order. Unless it was about something personal. Were
people talking about his situation living with Sophia? No, that had only been
a few weeks, not months. Surely it couldn't be about – "Regarding Jahni." Madari's stomach lurched. No. Surely
Rahama couldn't have seen anything. There'd been nothing to see. "It's time you promoted him.
It was time a year ago in fact." Relief, like the cold water of the
plunge pool after the Turkish bath, flooded Madari. "Oh," was all
he managed, fearing his voice would shake and reveal his agitation. "I didn't like to say
anything earlier, because you know I like to let my commanders make their own
choices about promotions. But I have to say something." "I see." His heart
slowed from its sudden racing. He took a couple of long, slow breaths. "I understand you've always
been careful never to show favouritism to Mr Jahni, but don't go the other
way and hold him back to preserve your own reputation." Had he been doing that? Quite
possibly. He had thought a few months ago that Jahni was due promotion, but
then forgotten it again. "You should be aware that the
commanders of other companies have been trying to get hold of him." "What?" Outrage tinged
Madari voice. His momentary panic was forgotten, swept away by anger. "Some of them would try to
entice him to transfer by adding a promotion as a sweetener." Rahama
smiled. "It's flattering to you as well as him. You've brought him on so
well that the other colonels are trying to poach him." "It's absurd. Jahni's a
specialist now." "And you have any number of
promising officers who could take his place as your second. Colonel Rahban
was the canniest. Requested him on a six-month secondment, to take charge of
a new training project he's working on." Madari let the anger drain away
and allowed pride to take its place. When Jahni came into the regiment, other
men sneered at him as not being Royal
Guard material. And look at him now. So good they try to poach him for their
units. "Your faith in him is
vindicated," Rahama said. "Faris, we both know that Jahni doesn't want
to serve under any other commander but you, and I'd be a fool to split up one
of my best teams. But don't make him pay a price for his loyalty, by not
allowing him to further his rank when he deserves to." "I'll organise the promotion
immediately," Madari said. "He's off duty for forty-eight hours now,
but when he comes back, I'll tell him at once. Thank you for bringing this to
my attention, sir. I never intended to hold him back. Sometimes time just
slips away." "Indeed it does. Dismiss,
Colonel." ~~~~ Jahni took that day to rest and
then reported back to barracks the next morning. Thirty-six hours. Close
enough, he decided. First, he visited the wounded, then toured the
dormitories and flats of all the men who'd been on the mission, making sure
they'd all made appointments with the unit's counsellors. A couple of the
other officers who'd been on the mission had also reported back early and he
spent an hour talking with them over coffee in a briefing room, discussing
about how to help the unit through this. Only at eleven-thirty did he
finally go to Madari's office, even though he'd seen a message for him to see
Madari as soon as he returned. They'd spoken on the phone the night before, and
Madari had offered to come over if Jahni wanted to talk about the mission.
But he sounded tired and Jahni suggested he just went to bed instead. To bed with Sophia. Though he'd
long ago got past his jealousy about that, the fact Madari was still living
at her flat had started to make Jahni nervous. What if he decided to stay
there permanently? Sometimes a person didn't even have to make a conscious
choice about something like that, he could just drift into it. But Jahni had to stop thinking
about that. Had to stop brooding about the fact she was the one who comforted
him for the deaths of his men, while Jahni lay sleepless in his flat, longing
to hold him and soothe him. Sophia could comfort him, but Jahni could share his
pain. He tapped on the office door,
hoping to see surprise and welcome, and instead seeing annoyance on Madari's
face. "You're supposed to be
resting," Madari said. "I'm fine." "It's not only your physical
health you need to take care of." Jahni shrugged. "I'm
fine," he repeated. The counsellors would help him too if he needed it.
Madari needed him here, not trying to sleep in the daylight. "You wanted
to see me about something." "Close the door and sit
down," Madari said, waited until Jahni did so, before he continued. "It's
been brought to my attention that I should have promoted you at least a year
ago." "Brought to your attention,"
Jahni said. Only one person could have 'brought it to his attention.' "By Colonel Rahama,"
Madari went on, confirming Jahni's guess. "I'm sorry if you feel
slighted or overlooked. That's never been my intention." From nowhere, rage swept over Jahni.
Our men lie dead and last time I saw
you, you had the blood of one of them on your face and you left me alone
while you went to her to hold you. And I can smell her scent on you - don't
think I missed that. And you think I care about promotion? Fuck you, Colonel! The rage vanished as fast as it
appeared, leaving him gasping, as if he'd been knocked down by a wave in the
sea. What the hell was that? "I'm sorry," he blurted,
suddenly fearing he'd said the insane words aloud. "For what?" "I mean, um, I'm sorry, could
you clarify?" Madari frowned at him, perhaps
wondering if Jahni was paying attention. "I'm promoting you to major,
effective immediately." Well that was clear enough. "Thank
you, sir." Madari sighed and shook his head.
"I know it's not the best moment to do this, but we don't have the
luxury of taking the time to mourn. Life, work, it all goes on." "Yes. Of course." "I'll make it a round of
promotions. Give me your recommendations by the end of the week." "Right." "And congratulations. I wish
the circumstances were different. We'd celebrate, but as it is..." "I understand." "At least come to dinner
tonight. Sophia will want to congratulate you, too." "I'd like that." Madari regarded him closely,
looking for something behind his robotic answers. Jahni only wished there was
something. The strange surge of hot rage had given way to ice. Heart and soul
frozen. Numb again. "I'm going to a meeting at
the defence ministry with Rahama this afternoon," Madari said. "It
could be useful if you attended. Unless you want to go home and rest
again." Jahni supposed he could do that.
He'd done the important things he came here for and had no burning desire to spend
the afternoon in some boring meeting. But he couldn't face his empty flat. "I'll come to the
meeting." ~~~~ Rahama's large staff car pulled
out of the barracks, the men inside unusually quiet. Rahama had congratulated
Jahni on his promotion and then busied himself with a folder of papers, only
raising his head to ask Madari a question now and again. There were no cigars
offered, there was none of the lively conversation Jahni would usually
expect. He sat on one of the fold down
seats, his back to the driver, facing Madari and Rahama, but stopped watching
them after a while, instead looking out of the window at the city streets
going by. He'd started to regret his choice to be here instead of going home.
After all, he didn't have to go home and sleep. He could take a walk through
one of the city parks. Or drive out to the desert and lose himself in its
loneliness. Lose himself? He frowned. What did
he mean by that? The blast of a horn ahead of them
made Jahni turn to see a car had pulled out of a side street ahead, bringing
the traffic to a sudden stop. Madari threw his arm across Rahama as they
lurched forward in their seats. "Idiot," the driver
growled. "Come on, move." The car hadn't pulled out and
driven off. It had stopped, broadside to the traffic. And the man inside got
out and... ran away. What the hell? Jahni's gaze whirled around the
street and he saw them – three men approaching from doorways, carrying
rifles. "Everybody down!" The three officers in the back hit
the floor in a heap and the driver ducked down, lying across both seats.
Jahni found his pistol in his hand, with no intervening memory of having
drawn it. Madari held his too. Rattle of machine gun fire and Jahni
flinched and expected pain, but. . . nothing. No pain, but strange sounds as
the bullets struck the windows and bodywork and were deflected away. Bulletproof. When had Rahama got a
bulletproof car? "Get us out of here!"
Madari ordered the driver. "We're boxed in!" He was right, cars behind and in
front and no manoeuvring room for the big and, with its armour plating, very
heavy limousine. "Drive over them if you have
to!" Jahni yelled. "This isn't a tank, Captain
Jahni!" "That's Major Jahni." Insane. But if he died today, at
least he died Major Jahni. "Kahil!" Madari shouted
in protest when Jahni popped his head up to look out of the window, but Jahni
trusted the bulletproof glass. Chaos out there. Screaming. Some cars trying
to get away, others abandoned, the occupants running for their lives. And the
three gunmen calm in the middle of it all. They weren't firing on the
screaming and running civilians. All their attention was on Colonel Rahama's
car. No random terrorist attack, a targeted assassination attempt. Attempt? Would it remain that? Were
they safe here behind the bulletproof glass and armour-plating? Safe from the
guns, perhaps, but then he saw one the men bend down and understood his
movement from the number of times he'd seen it before. He was pulling the pin
of a grenade. "Out!" Jahni yelled. One. The terrorist set the grenade
rolling toward the car. "Out!" Two. Front and back doors on the side
away from the gunmen open. The driver leapt for it. Madari and Rahama
throwing themselves out together. Three. Jahni dived after them, trying to
get as far away as possible. Four. The grenade exploded, and the car
left the ground as its petrol tank ignited. The roar of sound filled Jahni's
mind, and the shock of the blast flung him forward onto his face, hands over
his head. Am I on fire? Hair? Clothes? Skin?
Where were the others? Where was
Faris? "Faris!" His voice made no sound to him, ears
deafened by the explosion. But his mind heard nothing else. "Faris!" The billowing black smoke stinking
of petrol caught him and made him choke and his eyes stream. Must get away.
Must find him. He got as far as his knees, coughing on the smoke. "Faris!" A figure stepped out of the
roiling smoke. Faris? No. Raising a rifle. Jahni's pistol was already raised.
It seemed to have a will of its own, beyond his conscious control. It fired
and the assassin fell, his rifle blasting into the air. Jahni made it to his feet,
stumbled a few steps further from the burning car. No more assassins appeared
in the smoke. Sounds came to him now, dim, beyond the ringing in his ears.
Sirens. A helicopter. Screams. "Faris!" He heard himself that time, and
then his screaming prayer was answered. There, kneeling over Rahama who lay
on his face, Madari. Alive. Madari saw him too and their eyes locked for an
instant. Jahni took a step toward him, but Madari shouted something and
pointed. Jahni spun around, looking for another target, but instead saw
Rahama's driver, blood streaming from his shoulder, pistol in his good hand.
Jahni ran to him as he fell to his knees. "Are you shot?" "Shrapnel," he gasped,
his voice still competing with the clamouring of bells in Jahni's ears.
"I got one of the fuckers - begging your pardon, sir." Jahni wanted to laugh, stopped
himself, afraid of hysteria. "I got one of the fuckers too. But there
were three –" "Saw the last one run off.
How's my colonel?" Jahni glanced back at Rahama, who
hadn't moved. "Mine's looking after him," he answered
diplomatically. He looked back at the car. Flames
consumed the twisted wreck and oily black smoke rose high into the sky. I
wasn't even supposed to be here. |
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© E Charles 2009