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"You
can't use that in here," a nurse said, nodding at Madari's cell phone.
"It interferes with the equipment." Madari,
sitting sideways on a gurney in an emergency treatment room, scowled at her. "Madam,
I'm an officer of the Royal Guard. I need to organise a response to this
terrorist attack. The city needs to be put on high alert." "There's
a payphone in the hall." Her words
struck him dumb. Damn medics. His injuries were minor, he had to get out of
here. He needed to make sure roadblocks were set up, to catch the men who
escaped. The airport and train stations must be monitored. The King needed to
be briefed. The Royal Guard itself needed to be told of the condition of
their commander – in surgery for shrapnel wounds, along with his driver – and
he needed to get a guard over here to the hospital right now. His unit should
be on high alert, ready to respond to more attacks and to apprehend suspects. "I
can't stay here," he said, trying to get off the gurney. "Where's
Major Jahni?" "He's
next door," she said, nodding at another treatment room. "And
behaving much better than you, I might add." That
shamed Madari into sitting still again. Very well, let the medics do their
job and then he could do what he had to do. Check on Rahama first. If they'd
killed him... More than Madari's commander, his friend and mentor. If they
had killed him Madari's revenge would be something spoken of in hushed tones
of awe for years to come, he swore it. There was
a blind over the window into the treatment room next door, but he could make
out dark shapes moving behind it. Kahil. He'd yelled the name as he raised
his head again when the shockwave and the blast faded away. Kahil! Wanted to go and find him, but
had to stay with Rahama, especially when he saw the piece of metal sticking
into his side. A doctor
bustled in, looking put-upon. The four of them from the car weren't the only
injuries of course. The explosion had driven shrapnel into the bodies of
innocent bystanders. Men, women, children. Two were already dead at the
scene. Revenge. It was a physical thirst. He needed it like he needed water
or air. "Colonel
Madari?" the doctor said. "Let's take a look at you." "He's
in a big hurry to get out of here," the nurse said. "I
understand, sir," the doctor said. "But you have a number of lacerations
to your back. I don't know how you're not feeling them more." "Adrenaline,
doctor." "Ah,
quite." He and the nurse eased Madari's jacket and shirt off, and as the
shirt peeled away from where it had stuck to the wounds, he did begin to feel
some of that pain. Shrapnel had peppered his back as he flung himself across
Rahama, trying to protect him from the blast. "We'll
get those cleaned out and stitched up," the doctor said. "I'll
going to give you a painkiller before we do that." The nurse handed him
a prepared syringe and Madari looked down as the doctor injected him. The
hypodermic emptied into his arm. Madari
looked at the doctor. "That might not have been a good idea," he
said "Is
there a problem? I checked your records for allergies." The
doctor's voice faded. The room was full of smoke. Not the choking black smoke
of the explosion, but sweet. Curls of it rising through still air. Jasmine. Like... "Mother?" "Colonel?
Nurse! Catch him!" ~~~~ His
mother often burned jasmine scented incense, sitting in the women's room,
reading, with the fragrant smoke drifting around her. Sometimes Faris would
return from school, and sit with her. He knew that eventually he would no
longer be able to. Once he became a man, not a child, he'd have no place in
the women's room. But until that day came, he'd sit at her feet, while she
stroked his hair and read aloud to him. The light would slowly fade and
eventually he'd hear his father's voice making them both turn, smiling, to
see him standing outlined in the doorway, not crossing the threshold. He sat at
her feet now, but he was a man. He didn't belong here. But the jasmine kept
him here, made him a boy again. Her hand rested lightly on his head and
stroked his hair. She held a book and read aloud. "I can
hold you only in the darkness. I can kiss you only in my dreams." "Don't."
His voice was choked, painful to speak at all. "The
words hurt you?" Her voice. Or was it? Was that really the way she'd sounded?
She'd been gone so long he could no longer be sure if his memories of her
were reliable. "They
hurt me." A voice
speaking his name made him turn to the figure outlined in the doorway. Not
his father. "Kahil.
Come inside." He
didn't. Dressed all in black, ready to fight, he stayed in the doorway, his
body outlined against the light. He turned his head and the setting sun
caught the glisten of tears on his face. "His
love for you is killing him," his mother said, making him stare at her.
"It's killing him an inch at a time." "It's
killing me." "No.
It isn't. You're the strongest you've ever been." He looked
at the doorway again. Kahil was gone. Madari ran out into the blinding light
of the desert, searching for him. "Kahil!
Where are you?" Faris was
on a horse, trotting at Ahmed's side. Ahead of them, smoke and noise. Battle hidden somewhere beyond the
smoke. "You
gave my sword to Murdock," Ahmed said. "Are
you angry?" Ahmed
laughed, roared with laughter as always. He never did anything by halves.
"No, Faris. I'll only be angry if you give away your own sword." He wore
that, Faris realised. His dress sword was in its scabbard on his hip.
"It's only ceremonial." "It
was. You've fought with it now. First blood." "I drew
my first blood a long time ago. And not with a sword." "Weapons
change. Men don't. War is starting, Colonel. Draw your sword." He
obeyed, brought out the sword, the sun making it burn as he raised it. The
smoke was close now, the battle still invisible behind it. But he could hear
it, knew it was there and knew he belonged there. He needed no further
orders. The
scream came from his throat first, Ahmed's second, as they spurred their
horses to the charge, plunged into the smoke, screaming the battle cry. Madari
opened his eyes. Where?
The hospital, he realised, remembering the doctor injecting him and then...
being elsewhere. A dark figure paced the room, spoke to him. "Faris?" Kahil. He
wasn't dark, Madari just wasn't seeing too well. He rubbed his eyes and
focused better. Kahil. Small dressings on his face, his jacket worn over his
bare chest. How strange. His love
for me is killing him an inch at a time. No time
to think of such things now. Need to get to barracks. He sat up, to find he
was sprawled in an ungainly way on a bed. He wore a hospital gown, though saw
with some relief that he still had his trousers on. "What
happened?" "They
gave you too much painkiller. It knocked you out for a while." "Rahama?" "Still
in surgery. His driver is out now and in recovery." "Good."
He swung his legs off the bed. Where were his clothes? "Is Rahama's wife
here? Has someone brought her?" "I
don't know. Lie down. The doctor said you'll be shaky for a while." "No
time." He saw his jacket and shirt folded on a chair beside the bed, and
stepped towards them, but his knees gave out and he grabbed at the bed for
support. Jahni was there in instant. "Will
you just do as you're damn well told?" He hauled Madari up to sit on the
bed again. "I
want my clothes." He pulled off the gown to find a few small dressings
on his chest, guessed there were more on his back, but was too numb to feel
them. Jahni grabbed the shirt and jacket, threw them on the bed and went back
to pacing. The shirt
was stiff with blood and shredded. Repelled, Madari dropped that to the
floor. The jacket had less blood, though was also torn up. Better than
nothing. He slipped it on. "We
need transport back to barracks," Madari said. "Have you organised
that?" "Sijad
is on his way. The traffic is all screwed up." "You
should have arranged a helicopter instead." "Well,
I'm sorry, I didn't think of that! I was too busy having jagged pieces of
metal tweezered out of my flesh!" Madari
winced at the rage in Jahni's voice. The moment of the explosion came back to
him. He'd shut it out so far. The roar, followed by the silence of deafness.
Merciful deafness, so he couldn't hear the screaming. He shut it out again
now, pushed the images away. Pushed away the mind-destroying terror he'd felt
before the smoke cleared enough for him to see Jahni alive. Time later for
that. Must be strong now. He found his cell phone in his jacket pocket and
started to dial. "They
don't let you use them in here," Jahni said. Madari remembered the very
impudent nurse telling him the same thing. "Then
I need a payphone." He braved standing up again and wobbled towards the
door. He actually had his hand on the knob, opened it a fraction, when Jahni
suddenly slammed it shut again and glared at him. "Will
you just sit down!" "I
can't sit down. I have to call the barracks, there's too much to do." "I
told you, Sijad is coming. We'll be back at barracks soon. Until then,
just... please..." The rage in
him turned to pleading and Madari put a hand on his shoulder, mutual support,
needing to hang onto someone to stay on his feet. Jahni had always been his
rock. "Kahil,
hold yourself together. I know it's hard. But I need you now and the regiment
needs us both." "I
don't care about that." He shook his head as he spoke quietly. "I
know that and I don't care. Not now. Soon. When we get back there, but
please, give me this time. Let me, us, just be alive." "I
don't understand what you're saying." "I
couldn't see you!" It was a shout of anguish, seemed to be wrenched from
his soul. He grimaced and lowered his voice, but that seemed to simply
compress all that pain into a smaller space. "I couldn't see you. You
were dead. Not dead. Both. I couldn't see you and now I can't escape from
there, from that moment when you were dead and I was choking." "Kahil,
you're just in shock. Maybe you should sit down." He moved his hand from
Jahni's shoulder and down to his elbow, tried to steer him over to a chair,
but before Madari could stop him, Jahni grabbed him, pulled him close. Madari
gasped at the sensations, the scratch of braid and the hard cold of metal
buttons on his bare skin. But the
kiss wiped away all other sensation. Jahni's mouth on his. Fierce and desperate.
He didn't even consider resisting, but opened his mouth knowing he was as
hungry for it as Jahni. Not since
Africa. Those dreaming, precious afternoons they spent in each other's arms
and indulged in kisses they both vowed they'd never allow again. Broken that
vow now. And others. As his
drowned senses resurfaced he realised they had their arms around each other,
under their jackets, hands on bare skin. Skin interrupted with bandages and
tape, reminding Madari of the reason they'd just given in to this insane
surge of desire. He ended the kiss, needed a breath, needed to look into
Jahni's eyes. Would he see regret there? No. Only that desperation still. "I
want to go somewhere it rains in the afternoons," Jahni said quietly.
"Like it did in Zaire. When Sijad comes, tell him to take us to the
airport. We'll take a plane. Any plane. Somewhere else. That's all I want.
Somewhere else with you." "Kahil..."
For a moment he pictured it, as he had many times. The two of them somewhere
else. Somewhere they didn't have to be afraid. But he was a soldier. He
couldn't run away from his duty. Not even for love. "It's
impossible." "No.
It can happen. We've got money. Enough to live anywhere." Oh God, that's
why he'd so carefully squirreled away his restored inheritance. He thought
one day they could put that together with Madari's money and use it to build
a new life together. Tears sprang to Madari's eyes, a weakness he blamed on
shock and drugs, as despair filled him for the dashing of Jahni's hopes. "One
day, perhaps. But not today." "Why
not? We could..." A knock
on the door made them gasp and push each other away. Both tottered as they
moved back. Madari grabbed the bed to stay upright and then straightened up.
With shaking hands he buttoned his jacket. Jahni was doing the same, not
looking at Madari, taking the moment to compose himself. Once they both at
least had their jackets fastened Madari called out. "Come
in." His voice was shaky, but that was only to be expected. A concerned
looking Sijad looked around the door and came into the room. His face changed
to show considerable relief when he saw them both on their feet, though
returned to concern when he looked more closely at them. Madari shivered
to imagine his expression if he'd come in without knocking and seen them in
each other's arms. Sijad's loyalty and respect had never wavered, however
weak and distressed he'd seen Madari in the back of that staff car. That
special bond between a sergeant and his commanding officer prevailed. To lose
that and see contempt and disgust on his face would be unbearable. "Are
you ready to come back to barracks, Colonel? Major?" Rahama
was still in surgery and, Madari wished he could stay here. But that fact
itself meant he could not. He glanced at Jahni. Head down, saying nothing. "We're
ready." ~~~~ As soon
as they arrived at the barracks, Madari sent Jahni straight to the Special
Forces unit's buildings, with orders to prepare the men. "One
gunman escaped and so did the man who drove the car that stopped the traffic.
Find them," Madari ordered. Jahni nodded. He hesitated for a moment, but
then turned away and rushed off. For once, Madari didn't watch him go. No
time for that. He strode to Rahama's office. Officers
tried to stop him on the way, ask about the attack, but he had no time for
them either. He found Rahama's office suite full of senior colonels, milling
about, some talking on the phone. When he walked in they all started on him
at once, demanding updates. He raised a hand to quiet them, and walked behind
Rahama's desk. "Colonel
Rahama is in surgery, though that's expected to finish soon. He's not thought
to be in any danger. His driver is recovering in a ward. I want a car and driver
assigned to that man's family." He addressed that to Rahama's secretary,
Corporal Imad, who'd been with the colonel for years and wore a look of
intense relief at Madari's words. For a moment he looked startled, but then
wrote Madari's order down. "Yes,
sir." "I
want an armed guard at the hospital and the Colonel's home. Assign a junior
officer to assist his wife." "Yes,
sir. Anything else, sir?" "Have
someone bring me up a clean uniform." "Yes,
sir." The Corporal hurried away. Madari turned to the rest of the
officers in the room, who had gone quiet now, some of them staring at him. "Madari,"
one said. "Did Colonel Rahama –" "Put
me in charge? No. But someone has to take charge and I'm doing so. Any
objections?" They looked too stunned to object, so he pressed on.
"My unit will spearhead the search for the surviving terrorists and
anyone sheltering them, but I know that all of you and every man in the Guard
will want to track down the bastards who tried to murder our commander. I
know I'll have the full cooperation of every company of the regiment." Kahil had
once told Madari that he knew just the right thing to say at the right time.
That skill had not apparently deserted him. "Did
you say, 'surviving terrorists'?" Madari
smiled, though felt nothing humorous in the situation at all. "Major
Jahni and Rahama's driver each killed an attacker at the scene. Two other men
escaped. We will find them and kill them too." "Or
capture them?" Everyone looked at the man who'd spoken and the stared
defensively. "They can tell us who did this." "I
know who did this," Madari said. "Gentlemen, please return to your
companies. As soon as there's any further news about the Colonel, I'll inform
you." He sat down and pressed the intercom. "Corporal, place a call
to the palace for me." The other
colonels continued to stare and he looked up and really hoped he wouldn't
have to say 'dismiss'. Thankfully, his look broke the spell and they broke up
and left, muttering to each other. Perhaps wondering where the hell he took
his authority from. He may not the most senior colonel in the regiment, but
given the fact his unit were the anti-terror specialists, he judged that he
was the best man to take charge now. And he
had the will. Oh, yes, he had the will. The thirst for revenge would be
slaked. Try to kill my CO, my friends, my second, my lover, me? He wanted to
smile. That car had been awfully crowded, hadn't it? Before
his call to the palace he had one piece of personal business he should take care
of, because he wouldn't get a chance later. He called Sophia's number. When
she came on the line the hoarse tone of her voice told him she'd been crying
and he fought the urge to rush to her home and take her in his arms. "It's
me. I'm safe." What else did he say? "Faris.
Oh, thank god. I knew you were alive. A friend of Colonel Rahama's wife
called me from the hospital." How like
Madame Rahama to remember Sophia would not have been officially informed
about anything. He must thank her later. "I'm
sorry I couldn't call earlier." Earlier? He looked at a clock to see
only three hours had passed since the explosion. It felt like a day. "I
understand. Is Kahil all right?" A pang of
guilt like a piece of shrapnel right into his heart made Madari hesitate
before answering. "He's shaken of course. But he's coping." He'd
have to think later about what happened at the hospital and what it meant for
him and Sophia. "Sophia, I don't think I'll get home for some time. Days
I mean. Please, try to stay indoors. And I'm going to send a man to guard
your door." "Do
you think that's necessary?" "I'd
rather be safe than sorry. It's likely that I was as much the target as
Colonel Rahama himself." The intercom buzzed. "Hold on." "I
have your call to the palace, sir." "Thank
you. Put it through." He turned back to the phone. "I have to go,
Sophia." "Please
call me again when you can." Her voice caught and he knew she must be
about to cry again, but he couldn't stay on the line to comfort her. Duty
called. ~~~~ "He's
sleeping." Jahni
looked at Corporal Imad, sitting at his desk outside Rahama's office. He'd
clearly been there all night, like everyone else. Now at six in the morning
he looked gaunt and hollow eyed. "Go and
get some breakfast, Corporal. Come back in an hour and find someone to
relieve you for the day." Imad
glanced at the office, but obeyed the order. Jahni put his hand on the door,
which stood slightly ajar. The office beyond was dark, but in a moment he
made out the shape of a man sleeping on the couch. It wasn't quite long
enough for a man of his height, so one foot rested on the floor, the other
over the armrest. He had an arm flung across his eyes. Jahni
knew he couldn't go in. Because to stand over him, bend over, touch his
shoulder to wake him, it would be too easy to lean too close, or to make him
think... No, he
couldn't go in. Instead he opened the door the rest of the way, the light
from the outer office moving across him, showing up his lean body, dressed in
clean clothes now, green battledress, not day dress uniform. "Faris."
Madari
stirred at the sound of his name, raised his arm from his eyes. "Kahil?" "Yes."
He stayed in the doorway as Madari peered at him, waited for him to wake up
fully. "I'm sorry to wake you. I have some news." Madari
sat up and stretched, then came to his feet and twitched open the curtain
beside the sofa. Jahni turned away and went to the coffee filter machine that
sat in the corner of Imad's office. He began setting that up and a moment
later heard movement and glanced over his shoulder to see Madari standing
leaning on the door frame looking rumpled and sleepy. This was
too hard. How could they act as if nothing had happened? The kiss... well
that he could ignore. The kisses happened sometimes, when things got too
much. But he'd said more than he should have, begged Madari to come away with
him. He should never have made his feelings so plain. Now Madari would
question his loyalty to the regiment, the king, the country. How could he
not? Jahni had made his priority clear. "Any
news from the hospital?" Madari asked. "The
colonel had a comfortable night and he's been conscious." "That's
good," Madari said. "What's the news you have?" "Two
things. One, the police SWAT team are coming in for a briefing, I'm setting
up a joint operation with them." He smiled at Madari's speculative look.
"Yes. They think they've found the bastards." "Excellent.
Do you want me at the briefing?" "Only
if you want to come. I've got it in hand." "I'll
leave you to deal with it then, Major." He smiled as he used the new
rank. "What's the other thing?" "Reports
from our men up north in the hills. They've found another training
camp." Madari's
expression hardened. Another camp where more men like those who'd perpetrated
yesterday's attack trained for their missions. "I'll
start putting a plan together," Jahni said, closing the lid of the
coffee machine, starting it working. "Once we finish our operations
here, we can head out there." "No,"
Madari said. "Destroy it." "Sir?"
"Destroy
it. Completely. Not a raid, an airstrike. Helicopter gunships. Destroy it and
leave nothing left alive." Jahni
stared at him, into the intense gaze. Fury and hatred stared back at him from
the darkness in his narrowed eyes. He'd never been afraid of Madari before,
but in that moment he shivered. For all his sensitivity and liberal values,
deep inside, Faris had the soul of a warrior. The hunger of a warrior for
revenge. "Two
civilians died," Madari said, voice cold. "Our commanding officer
and his driver are still in hospital. Many were injured. Their blood will be
paid for. No prisoners." He turned
and strode back in the office. Jahni waited by the coffee machine until the
carafe filled with enough for two cups and took them into the office. "Sir,
um, just two things," he said as he gave one cup to Madari, who was
standing by the window, watching the sun rise. "I'm not certain you have
the authority to order that." He refused to wilt under Madari's glare.
He wouldn't see Madari lose his career because he overstepped his authority
here. "Also, we don't actually have any helicopter gunships." Madari's
glare softened. "Yes, those are both good points." He sipped his
coffee. "Wait a moment." Sitting behind the desk again, he flicked
through the Rolodex and then began to dial a phone number. "Can
I just point out that it's six-fifteen in the morning," Jahni said. "I have
a watch. Ah, General Jumale. It's Madari. Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry to call
you so early." He stopped and laughed. "No, I haven't. General, I
need some help. I wonder if you could help me lay my hands on some attack
helicopters." Jahni
smirked and walked away while Madari continued. Jumale would help them. An
old ally from their days as guerrillas. It still alarmed him, to see such
fury in Madari, but he couldn't deny it would be satisfying to have that camp
simply razed to the ground. No messing around. Kill them all. The cowards
deserved it. He raised
his cup and winced as the movement pulled on one of the fresh dressings on
his back. When Madari ended the call, Jahni turned back to the desk. "I'll
have the intelligence passed to General Jumale's office," he said.
"Sir, you should go to the infirmary to get your dressings changed, and
then get cleaned up." Though his uniform was clean, it was badly
creased, and his hair was lank. He needed to shave. "And get some
breakfast," he added. When Madari hesitated, Jahni went on.
"There's barely anyone around, they're all trying to catch up on some
sleep. You have time." Madari
nodded. "Thank you. Good idea. What time is your briefing with the SWAT
team?" "Eight." "Report
to me when it's over. And Kahil, the same orders go for this as for the camp.
We already know that it's the Saifullah group who did this. We have no need
to question anyone." Jahni
knew what that meant. He had no problem with it. No
prisoners. |
© E Charles 2009