The Protocols of Carstairs
Copyright© 2021 by Ron Dudderie
Chapter 27: The long and winding road
After two or three minutes of swerving to avoid crevices and boulders I tried switching off the bike’s headlight. It wasn’t helping me much, anyway, as it mostly illuminated a point too far away for me to be concerned with. At this distance from the fort there was only moonlight to guide me, but my eyes had gotten more accustomed to the dark and it seemed safe enough to ride rather than walk. I didn’t have much walking in me, to be honest. Or much of anything.
I kept looking over my shoulder, but fortunately the Saudi army vehicles were not interested in me, or perhaps simply unaware. I had a very near miss with a thorny shrub and decided I’d stop looking over my shoulder. It took about ten minutes to reach the relatively smooth terrain at the foot of the slope that led towards the cave. I drove much slower than I’d done that afternoon, when I was pretending to be a Korean bike enthusiast.
I was welcomed back at the cave, albeit at gunpoint from Dieter, the German soldier I’d set free earlier that day. He was under orders from Gerard not to be too trusting of visitors. But when I took off my helmet after I’d driven the bike to the top of the slope and waved at him, he smiled.
“Welcome back, Herr Carstairs. Did you ... Were you wearing this before?”
“Sure I was. How are things here?” I asked, as I swung my leg over the bike and dusted myself off a bit. We started to walk towards the entrance of the cave.
“The American is in a lot of pain. He can’t even walk, but he insists on operating the radio. Amina was mostly at the sniper position, but you were out of sight a lot and she had to take care of Gerard until we got here. Now I am helping out where I can and Adam ... is cooking. Well, not really, but it is all he can manage to do. He’s really shaken up by this.”
I ducked and entered the cave, which was illuminated by a tiny but surprisingly powerful LED light they’d placed on a high ledge. Amina sat on the floor, next to Gerard. She was just administering an injection with one of the morphine syringes and only looked up when she had retracted the needle.
Somewhere to my left, Adam was messing about with mugs and hot water.
“Hi. How is he?” I asked, gently placing my hand on her shoulder while she put the syringe back in its sheath.
“Terrible. Fifteen minutes ago he fainted from the ... OH! Why are you dressed like that?!”
“Well, I needed a change of clothes,” I said, and sat on my haunches next to Gerard.
“Hey, Jerry. How are you holding up?”
“That ... was the last of the morphine...” mumbled Gerard. He looked a mess. He’d clearly sweated a lot, so now he had long streaks of grime and dirt running over his face. His face was contorted from the pain. And all because of that bike.
“I’m sorry, man. I’ve asked Captain Lopez to swing by when he’s done, but he said he might not be able to. How are we going to move you?”
“On a fucking stretcher, Martin. I can’t walk. So ... what’s it called?”
“What’s what called?”
“The ... fucking OPERA you’re going to see tonight. Heh. Heh. Auw.”
I laughed, but more out of politeness.
“We’re going to have to sit tight, Jerry. The Saudis have woken up. I got out of there just in time. And I’m sure you know one of the missiles launched.”
“Yes. Well, we tried. At least you stopped one of them. It’s out of our hands.”
“Would you like some coffee, Commander?” asked Adam. He was looking at me.
“What? Me?”
“Coffee?”
Amina laughed.
“He thinks your rank is Commander.”
“OH! No, not me. No. I mean YES, yes, coffee please. But I’m not a Commander. I’m not anything, really.”
Gerard grunted in a way that was supposed to be a sardonic laugh. Amina patted his back.
“Oh God, listen to that. Says he’s nothing. Motherfucker waltzes into a ... hostile base ... Proceeds to systematically murder everyone he meets and ... and ... stops a missile launch. Well, one out of two. Shows up back here ... in a SUIT! Ouch. No, darling, it’s fine. It’s kicking in now. Hey, is anyone looking at the screen?”
I got up and looked at the laptop. Its screen was dimmed, probably to conserve energy. It showed a grainy, green-hued view of the plateau with the fort and the two helicopters. They were both taking off. A Saudi Humvee was making its way up the switchback road. Both helicopters produced so much turbulence the corpse of the tower guard rolled over.
“Helicopters are taking off. Is the radio on?”
“It is, but they have their own encrypted frequency. We’re CIA, they’re army,” whispered Gerard. “Situation room is now dealing with their op. I’m sure they’ll get back to us.”
I heard water brewing and remembered all there was was Nescafe.
“Adam? Got any tea?”
“No, I am so sorry.”
“That’s okay, I think I...” I said, reaching into my jacket. “Here, I’ve got tea on me. If I can just get a cup of hot ... what? WHAT?”
For some reason me fishing a dry tea bag out of my inside pocket set off Dieter.
“Er brachte Teebeutel! Hee hee hee! Der Britische Geheimagent brachte Teebeutel mit! Haste mal so etwas ... hahahaaaa! Haaaahaaaaaaaa! Oh mein lieber Gott ... Hahaahaaaaaaaaa!”
Adam also saw the funny side of it and the sight of the pair of them, who had gotten to know each other quite well, sharing a laugh that was clearly very much overdue, was rather infectious. For a few seconds that stuffy cave where pain and tension had dictated the mood of the day was a happy place. We made it last, too, as people who know the next round of laughter may be a while off tend to.
“Overlook, come in. Overlook, come in,” scratched the radio. Amina reached up and gave the handset to Gerard.
“This is Overlook.”
“Just to let you know that the missile was shot down above the Red Sea by a British submarine, on a South-West course. There was no, repeat NO radiation. Tell agent 327 that whatever he did to throw it off course worked.”
That news led to a round of celebratory screaming, for which I joined in even though I did wonder what the ever-loving fuck that missile had been doing over the Red Sea. It should have travelled straight South! And why had there been no nuclear detonation? We PAID for that!
Amina got up and put her arms around me, gauging if it would be okay to kiss me. She decided it was, which led to boisterous cheers from Dieter and Adam while we kissed. She tasted of Nescafe, but I welcomed it nonetheless.
“I guess MI6 saved the world today,” she said.
“Jaaaay,” I said, not sure if that had anything to do with me.
“Overlook, acknowledge.”
“This is Overlook, we acknowledge. 327 just rolled up, safe and sound. He’s asking about a ride home.”
“Copy that, Overlook. Stand by for further. Out.”
I had half an hour to myself then, sipping hot tea in the relatively cool desert air and using wetwipes to get rid of some of the dust behind my ears. The suit cleaned up rather nicely, as the fabric was so fine that most dust didn’t get a chance to creep into it. Gerard could do nothing but groan and try to coast on the last bit of morphine.
Dieter and I kept a weary eye on the flat plain ahead of us. Technically the Saudi army wasn’t our enemy, but we’d all prefer not to have to deal with them. I was still a spy, as was Amina.
Dieter understood that I was not in the mood for telling showbiz anecdotes or even what had happened in the fort. He kept his distance. Adam came by for a refill of hot water, presented along with some sort of dense energy bar that was ten percent chocolate and ninety percent sticky oats or something. I never eat those things, just like how I never drink sports drinks. Inside I could hear occasional, brief snippets of conversation between Gerard and whatever military command post was now in charge of dealing with us. Poor bastard. He really was in so much agony. So was I, though it obviously didn’t compare to his pain. Still, I’d pushed my body far beyond its capabilities and it was starting to present the bill in ever increasing increments.
We could see what the Saudi soldiers were doing down in the fort, though I myself didn’t spend more than a few seconds watching the screen when I went back into the cave at Gerard’s request. He told me they had been walking, sometimes running around, collecting corpses from every corner of the compound. An officer was spotted looking straight at ‘our’ mountain with night vision binoculars, but nobody came looking for us.
“When can we leave?” I asked.
“Soon. They had to go back to their base first, what with there being four prisoners to bring along. They’re sending one unit back for us. We...”
“Overlook, your exfil is inbound in five,” interrupted the radio.
“There you go. Listen, Martin: you’re not coming with us. What with me on a stretcher, there’s just not enough room. I have coordinates for you. Basically you head West, to the coast. There you’ll be picked up by the Royal Navy. That’s your ride home.”
“But ... that’s what, a hundred kilometres in a straight line! And there is no straight line!”
“Use the bike, travel South for about thirty kilometres until you hit the 394. There’s transportation waiting for you at the Abu Htat petrol station, mile marker twenty five. Or kilometre marker, I should say. Pickup location is a beach between Haql and Al Humidah, across from the Rose Garden hotel, in about three hours. Amina wrote it down for you.”
She handed me a folded piece of paper.
“And what about you?” I asked. She smiled.
“I am getting a ride, because I can’t drive here. And I’m half your size.”
“Listen, are you sure you want to accept a ride from the Americans? You’re Iranian intelligence. You might never see the light of day again.”
“Hey!” said Gerard. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Amina?” said Dieter. “We could ... I can drive. We could stay here until daybreak and use your car. Herr Carstairs, you can come too.”
“Carstairs ... I mean Martin is on the clock, fellas. His pickup is in three hours. Amina, I’m vouching for you. You’ll get asylum in the US, I guarantee it. Even if I have to marry you myself.”
“But ... I don’t want asylum. I have a family. I have a way to leave this country. I just need to get back to Riyadh. Dieter, are you sure?”
“Yes. Adam should go with the helicopter. But if Herr Carstairs said it is not safe for you, I will help you. I just need to find any Western embassy.”
Gerard seemed insulted.
“Jesus guys, you’re making a spectacle here. We’re the US! We’re the good guys!”
“When it suits you. If that missile hadn’t been aimed at Israel but at Tehran instead, I don’t think you would even have been here,” said Amina.
Adam came back in.
“Zer ees a helicopteur!”
And blimey, there was!
A black helicopter without any markings, probably one of the two I’d seen earlier, landed as close to the cave as it could. Captain Lopez and a medic came into the cave with a stretcher. Four of us took hold of a corner and brought Gerard down along the ridge and the slope. Then Lopez came back and took away all the equipment and the sniper rifle, leaving Dieter and Amina with food, water and a single pistol. It didn’t seem unreasonable, because none of that gear would be of any use during a trip to Riyadh. In fact, possession of it might be a liability.
I helped Lopez carry one of the black bags to the helicopter.
“Sir? Can I just ... Were you REALLY alone down there?” he asked, as we half-slid down the slope.
“Yes.”
“We ... I’ve never seen so many bodies. Was that all your work?”
“Yes. I took my time. And I poisoned half of them. That’s very efficient.”
“What ... what unit are you with? SAS?”
“Me? No, I’m with TESCO.”
“TESCO? What’s that?”
“Well, they have the best shortbread and a very nice club card.”
“What?!”
“Never mind. So did you find anyone alive in the other missile silo? The one that didn’t launch?”
“No, Sir. We found the charred remains of a person at the bottom of the empty silo. Guess he was in the wrong one.”
“Oh. Did you bring him up?”
“No, Sir. Not enough time. The Saudis got there too soon. We just took a bunch of pictures, freed the prisoners and hauled ass, Sir. They saw us, but I think they’re gonna pretend we were never there and they found the base themselves. Pretty sure it will be a pile of rubble by tomorrow.”
We hoisted the bags into the helicopters.
“Jerry! Best of luck!” I shouted, mostly at Gerard’s boots. He raised his thumb. The medic sat next to him and checked an IV-line. Adam sat way in the back and struggled with his headset. He was grinning from ear to ear. I’m sure his ordeal had been considerable, not remotely comparable to living in a palace and the occasional trip to Dubai or Vegas. I just hoped he’d keep his frog mouth shut about having met me, especially without Dieter around to warn him.
“It’s been an honour, agent!” answered Gerard, raising his head. “See you around.”
Lopez shook my hand again, hopped in and closed the side door. I stood well back and watched the helicopter take off. It only went up about fifty metres and then turned around, staying as close to the ground as it could as it found its way through the valleys. Within less than a minute I could no longer see or hear it. Amazing technology.
Saying goodbye to Dieter and Amina was weird and brief. Amina got it into her head I should hurry, because I’d have to be at the coast in three hours. She was probably right. I figured there would be a chap in a boat there, ready to take me to Sharm-el Sheikh on the Sinaï peninsula. Not a particularly nice itinerary, but getting back to London from there would be easy enough.
She fussed over me, making sure I brought along some water in the sturdiest bag she could find. My phone and watch had also been charging in the car. Not that I had any reception here, but the phone did have a compass app. It’d be impossible to miss that road and then the nearest marker would tell me if I had to travel east or west to reach the petrol station.
“Do you have enough fuel?” she asked, pointing at the bike.
“Yes, nearly full. I could even make it to the coast.”
“Passport?”
“Yes. For what it’s worth.”
“Money?” asked Dieter. I nodded.
“Watch? Phone?” asked Amina.
“Yes.”
I moved towards the bike.
“LAPTOP!” she said. “It’s in the car!”
“Oh yeah! Okay ... let’s see how I am going to manage that. Have we got a backpack?”
We did not. She produced a ‘luggage spider’, a cluster of elastic bands with a black metal claw at the end.
“I have this?”
“Perhaps we can send it to you...” suggested Dieter, who was clearly of the opinion this was not a viable way to transport a computer. But Amina gave me a towel and when we wrapped the machine in it and strapped that to the saddle, I was pretty sure it would survive. And anyway, the drive was an SSD. Those can handle a bump or two.
I man-hugged Dieter, who found that extraordinarily peculiar. I then hugged Amina a lot more and got on my bike.
“Can I ... How can I find you?” she asked, as I donned the helmet. I gave her the name of a Hotmail account I maintain for signing up to all sorts of services and newsletters I never get around to reading. It’s a funny word and I’m not telling you.
“I will send a message as soon as I can. Please reply to me when you are safely at home?”
Her lip started to wobble.
“I promise.”
“Then go. GO!”
And off I went, into the night. Finally headed for home.
Travelling South was easy enough. The terrain was not that hard to negotiate, especially on this bike. Behind me, in my left mirror, I could see the fort for a while, beautifully outlined in the moonlight.
After fifteen kilometres I stopped and checked my heading on the compass app. I had one signal bar, but no data. About half an hour later I found the highway and the kilometre marker told me I needed to travel East for only two kilometres. Pretty soon I saw the illuminated canopy of a petrol station. It was closed, but one of the pumps took credit cards. There were no other cars around and I figured I might as well refuel the bike, just in case I had to make my own way towards the coast. And so I got off and rummaged around in my wallet for a card, looking for one that would hopefully trigger the display to switch to English. It didn’t, so I had a bit of a puzzle to solve. What’s Arabic for unleaded? I shivered. Believe it or not, but around two a.m. the desert gets really chilly.
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