Tess Awakening (4 page)

The interior was spacious, with beautiful
furnishings. Large carpets were rolled against the walls. Tess
theorized that they were placed out of the way to safeguard them
from the chaos outside.

The Iraqi soldiers hurled Tess through a
massive open door. The push was so hard that she tripped and fell.
She instinctively glanced around to assess where she was. She
learned that during survival training. Know where you are. Look for
danger. Find exits. Weigh the situation. She was in an enormous,
ornate high-ceilinged room, something that you would expect in a
European mansion, only without pictures of ancestors on the walls.
A high-ranking Iraqi officer was sitting at a desk, pen in hand,
writing.

The soldiers threw Tess on the floor and
appeared ready to administer a beating.

“What are you doing, idiots! Don’t be so
rough,” the officer said in Arabic. “Leave her here, and go away!”
The soldiers obsequiously slithered away and closed the door after
themselves.

“Please come closer.”

Tess didn’t see many options but to comply.
Her well-honed instincts as a soldier told her that to resist would
only make things worse.

She hesitatingly stood up and proceeded
toward the desk with as much assurance as she could muster. The
officer did not look at her, still appearing busy and signing
documents. When she was five feet from the desk, the man raised his
arm, palm out signaling ‘Halt’. She complied, standing at
attention. The officer, from the insignia on his shoulders was a
General in the Republican Guards. He continued to handle papers,
signing them with a deliberate lack of haste, ignoring the
disheveled, bloody and exhausted young woman standing in front of
him.

A few minutes later, he raised his head. “I
am General Amir Alkan al-Saadi.” Glancing at her name strip on the
dirty uniform, he further observed “And you are Major Turner with
the United States Army, I see.” He stood up and moved around the
desk, still maintaining his distance. “And what is your first
name?”

“Sir, I am Major Morgan Theresa Turner,
United States Army” she responded, hopefully sounding less
apprehensive that she really was.

The General appeared puzzled. “You father
must not have liked you. He gave you a strange name. Or perhaps, he
would have preferred a son, no?”

Tess started to feel her temper flare, but
she controlled herself and repeated the standard phrase, all that
was required by the Geneva Convention.

“I hope that we will have a more meaningful
conversation than that,” the General said. “I am aware of the
International Law of War, so let’s dispense with the formalities.”
He spoke perfect English, approximating a British accent. Tess
realized that she needed time to think and find a way out this
mess. She fell back on her training. Assess the enemy, try to find
his weakness.

Unlike many of his counterparts, the General
appeared to be extremely fit, in his fifties’, handsome, with an
immaculately groomed mustache, and very sure of himself. A pair of
piercing dark eyes riveted on Tess.

“Major, you seem to need a bath, clean
clothes and perhaps something to eat. No?” The General appeared to
display genuine solicitude.

“Sir, I would like to see my men attended to
first. Also, three of my wounded men need medical attention” The
Iraqi raised his eyebrows.

“Your men, you said. Do they listen to you?
Do they take orders from a woman?”

Tess forced herself to stand still. “General,
you seem to be well educated in the Western ways. You should know
that the coalition forces include women as soldiers and
leaders.”

“Ah yes! I just thought they used women as
secretaries and cooks, not helicopter pilots and commanders. No
matter. In fact, I would like to know more about women warriors.
It’s a fascinating concept. Let’s approach this in a civilized
manner. Please join me for dinner after you, as they say, freshen
up.” Tess could see it coming.

“General, with respect, I would like to take
care of my men first.”

For the first time, General al-Saadi affected
annoyance. “Your men will be taken care of after my interrogators
are through with them.” Almost on cue, one of the henchmen
appeared, and whispered something in the General’s ear. The officer
walked to the desk, picked up a tiny bell and shook it once. Almost
from nowhere, an attractive woman in a dark western-style long
dress appeared. “See to it that the Major gets a bath and some
clothes. Tell the cook that I will have dinner for two.” The
General went back to his labors at the desk, dismissively waving
his hand as a sign he was done with everyone around him.

The woman gently pushed Tess toward a door at
the side of the enormous room. “Please come with me.” Tess released
a breath that she had not realized she’d been holding. She had not
heard what the General’s lackey had said to make him want to be
alone, but she hoped to find a way to buy herself a little more
time. The woman showed her to a luxurious bedroom suite. “I have
prepared a bath for you,” she pointed ahead and left. Tess, now
feeling the effects of the ordeal, ran to the water closet and
almost got sick.

“Think, Tess,” she told herself. After all
those years of training and preparation, there must be something
that can make a difference now.

The woman reappeared with several large
towels in her arms. Outside the window, Tess heard ribald jeers
from the guards.

“Shhh, I am Kejal Malek. We must be very
quiet.” Her English was only slightly broken.

“You speak English? Where am I? Who are you?
I am Major Tess …”

“I know who you are Major. I am not your
enemy; I am here to help you.” Kejal started to remove Tess’s dirty
fatigues. Tess was so tired that she did not resist. Naked, she
slowly walked toward a large sunken tub, tiled with beautiful
geometric patterns, and gradually lowered her body into the steamy
water. The pleasure of the bath was almost incomprehensible. She
forced herself not to relax, thinking about her men not being
afforded the privilege of such a luxury. Still suspicious of her
attendant, she decided to try to find out as much as possible about
the place.

“How do you know English? I would think you
might be an interrogator, but I know these pigs would never allow a
woman in such a position.”

“You are correct; they are pigs. I am
Kurdish. Five years ago the General brought me here after his
soldiers killed my husband and children with chemical weapons. Do
not think for a moment that they are anything but murderers. They
will abuse you and then if you are lucky they will kill you; if you
are not so fortunate they will allow you to live.” The look in her
eyes told Tess that living had not been a blessing to this
woman.

Kejal left the bathroom, allowing Tess some
privacy. Around the rim of the pool, various expensive toiletries
were set up for her to use. She immediately took advantage of them;
particularly the shampoo and body wash liquid. ‘This is bizarre.
The world is exploding, I am a prisoner, and here I am enjoying a
hot bath.’ She ached to linger and luxuriate in the warm water, but
she hurried with cleaning herself, feeling dread and almost
guilty.

She stood up, and the woman appeared almost
instantly, wrapping her in a large, fluffy towel. Well, Tess
observed, not everyone in this country is poor and uncouth. Someone
in this house is used to quality goods.

“You must rest,” her attendant suggested. “I
have brought out some dresses for you to choose from. You will find
excellent cosmetics on top of the makeup cabinet. Call me when you
are ready.”

Tess quickly surveyed the luxurious bedroom
suite that apparently belonged to a wealthy lady. ‘I wonder who and
where she is,’ she muttered to herself. She is probably the
General’s wife.

She selected underwear from one of the
chests, put on a luscious, soft cotton bathrobe, and proceeded to
inspect the apartment. In spite of its luxury, this was a highly
secure area. There was only one exit, guarded by at least two
soldiers. All windows were barred by ornamental iron. ‘I am not
going anywhere fast, sorry to say,’ she concluded.

Hanging on display were three evening gowns,
obviously haute couture, probably French, all designed to show off
a woman’s figure. These were at the same time beautiful but
frightening. A war is raging outside and I have to wear a fancy
dress. Dear God, what is this insanity?

Her energy was waning rapidly, and she
hungrily bit into an apple from a fruit basket. A few minutes
later, she felt somewhat restored; nothing like fruit sugar to perk
you up. Since there was no way out, she took Kejal’s advice and
laid down on one of the sumptuous sofas. She closed her eyes, and
would have loved to get some sleep, but did not dare. Against her
will, exhaustion prevailed, and she passed out.

Kejal gently touched her. Tess instinctively
jumped to her feet, affecting a bellicose posture.

“It’s okay! It’s me” The woman raised her
arms to protect herself from a potential blow. Tess realized that
she had been sleeping for some time.

“I am sorry, Kejal, I was in a deep
sleep.”

The woman relaxed. “You must dress now. Which
garment do you wish to wear?” Tess suddenly felt the irony of her
situation. ‘After all I went through to become an Army officer, I
am reduced to playing a bimbo for a pervert. Good, going,
girl!’

Kejal again exhorted her with urgency.
“Please choose your dress. The General does not like to be kept
waiting!”

Tess glared furiously. “I don’t care what he
likes!”

Her attendant did not back down. “Don’t be a
fool! If you make him angry, he will kill you and your soldiers.
Please choose a dress!”

Tess sat down, holding her head that she felt
was about to explode. She needed time to think. She needed to
regain a sense of control. ‘It’s obvious that I have to play along
with this until I figure something out,’ she muttered to herself.
She stood up, inspected the dresses, and selected a stunning gown
in Burgundy and cream with matching shoes. Amazing, everything
fits, she noticed. She looked at herself in a large mirror. Her
breasts were beautifully showcased by the generous décolleté.

“You are beautiful, Major. Please do what the
General wants, and you will survive.” Kejal admonished.

Tess looked at the beautiful, gaunt woman.
“Apparently that’s what you did, and you don’t seem to have fared
very well.”

Kejal looked at her with her sad eyes. “He
keeps my four-year-old daughter in one of his other houses to force
me to serve him.”

Tess closed her eyes. “I am sorry. I didn’t
mean to criticize you.”

Kejal turned her head, tears in her eyes.
“It’s all right. It’s not your fault.”

Tess put on a touch of makeup. ‘If I am do
battle posing as a helpless woman, I might as well look good.’

Both women started walking through various
rooms of the ornate mansion. Unlike Saddam’s modern palaces, this
house looked as if it had been around a long time. The décor was
tasteful and expensive.

Kejal led Tess to a large dining room. A long
table had two place settings at one end. “I must go now,” she
said.

Tess looked around. The Lord of the Manor
must have been heavily influenced by the Brits when he built this
place some time ago, she thought. Lots of wood paneling and plush
furnishings, brocade on the windows, a little faded. The room did
not look exotic at all.

“Do you like my house?” The General suddenly
appeared. He had cast off the uniform in favor of an exquisitely
tailored suit, probably Savile Row.

Tess decided to keep it light. “It’s a
beautiful house, tastefully decorated. How old is it?”

The General seemed pleased that Tess appeared
interested. “It’s almost one hundred fifty years old. My great
grandfather built it. He spent most of his time in foreign
countries. He was a diplomat for the Ottoman Empire and continued
in a similar capacity after a British general drew a line on a map
and created Iraq in 1922. My ancestor lived a long time in England.
He liked it very much there; very civilized country, with clear
class distinctions. No confusion.”

Tess decided not to express her views about
class systems at this time. “Very interesting,” she noted without
much conviction.

The General went to a carved cabinet and
opened a door, revealing a well-stocked bar. “Would you care for a
cocktail?” he solicitously inquired.

Tess was surprised. “Aren’t Muslims
prohibited from consuming alcohol?”

“Some of us are a little more flexible.”

‘I sure would like a drink,’ Tess thought,
‘but I’d better not. He seems to be setting me up like the fly to
the spider.’

“No. Thank you, General; I am very tired.” ‘I
can’t believe that I am thanking this guy,’ she thought.

“Amir, please. Call me Amir,” he
suggested.

I am not ready for this, Tess thought.
“General, I am a prisoner of war. I would prefer to follow
protocol. I will respect you, and I expect the same treatment.”

The General affected an oblique smile. “Of
course, but this does not mean we can’t enjoy our dinner, no?” Tess
thought it best to remain silent.

“I don’t like to drink alone, so I will pour
you a glass of light white wine, or perhaps you would prefer an
aperitif?” Amir extended his arm with the hand palms up and pointed
at the bottles in the cabinet, offering a libation as if he was
bestowing a gift. Tess saw that he would not be deterred, and
agreed to a glass of wine.

Amir invited her to sit on a sofa while he
brought her the drink. “My youngest sister’s clothes fit you
beautifully. She is very much like you; very beautiful. She has
large black eyes, yours are green. She has long, luxurious black
hair, you are blonde; a crime to cut it so short. No matter; I
appreciate female beauty in all its forms.”