The General and the Elephant Clock of Al-Jazari (22 page)

Kim and Abdullah came strolling into the restaurant, looking as beautiful as movie stars, all shiny black hair and big smiles. Abdullah was giving him a cautious look, stood back a little and let Kim go first. John looked behind them. Gabriel leaned against the restaurant door, looking lean and dangerous. And tired. John stared at him for a long moment. Then Kim was in front of him, wrapping John up in his arms. “Please don’t be mad, Uncle John. I couldn’t sit at home, not this time. Not anymore. We want to help.”

John felt his heart crack a little bit more. “I love you, kiddo.” He reached out, pulled Abdullah over to him.

Abdullah wrapped his long arms around them both. “If you want to kick our asses, I totally understand. But we’ve got some information.”

“I’m not mad,” John said.
Not at you.
“You boys sit down, get some dinner.”

He walked a few steps toward the door, and Gabriel came over to meet him. “Did you just bring the majority of the people I love most in this world into Tunisia? Into the middle of an active op?” He was smiling, but his molars were grinding against each other dangerously.

“They were coming with or without me.”

John thought a moment, studying Gabriel’s sexy dark whiskers and the heat, and tiredness, in his beautiful eyes. “What was it you said? You were at the butt end of your last nerve, and I was stomping on it?”

“Stop glaring at me, John. I feel better now I can see you’re in one piece.” He narrowed his eyes, hands on his lean hips. “Are we gonna get shot if I kiss you hello?”

“I don’t care,” John said. “I’m going to have something to say about this later. Don’t think you’re off the hook.”

Gabriel sighed, reached out and pulled John into his arms. “I have been so miserable without you.” Gabriel reached down and kissed him, a warm spicy kiss with a tiny slide of tongue that had John’s knees going weak.

Gabriel lifted his head, and John turned around, looked at the table of people staring at them. Kim and Abdullah were pulling up chairs, grinning, and the waiters were sliding tiny salads in front of them, very carefully not looking at the two men kissing. Jen and Eli had their mouths open, and Daniel and Wylie appeared to be nudging each other under the table. Sam got up, came over to Gabriel and stuck out his hand. “Sir, I am so very glad to see you. You can’t imagine how glad….”

“Oh, yes, I can, Brightman. Looks like you’ve held up well!”

“Only on the outside. I’ve been developing an ulcer for days.”

Gabriel turned to the table. “I’m Gabriel Sanchez.” He slid a dark-eyed smile at John. “I am General Mitchel’s XO.” He pulled up a chair, and one of the waiters gave him a salad. He nodded his thanks. “John, maybe we could introduce ourselves and the staff can give me a brief?”

“Thank you, good idea.” John nodded to Wylie. “If you will all tell the Horse-Lord your particular area of concern, and current status, and any particular skills or issues so he’s up to speed. Anything you think might be classified intel can wait until we’re upstairs. He is in command if anything happens to me, understand?” He waited for their nods of agreement. “Wylie, you go first.”

“I’m USMC, staff sergeant, assigned to the embassy. The regional security officer, Greg Mortimer, sent me over to handle security at the hotel. We’ve got four Marines besides myself. We’ve also got a couple of Tunisian Security Service guys watching the doctor’s house. You know about the doctor?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Just keep going. I’ll catch up.”

“Jackson’s my partner. He’s upstairs covering the door to the general’s suite. We got two others sleeping and one outside. We’re watching the usual points of egress and ingress but that doesn’t really cover it.”

“What floor do you have?”

“Four.”

“You’ve got the whole floor?”

Wylie shook his head, and Gabriel pulled out a small memo book and made a note. “Any particular skills or issues?”

“I can speak some basic Arabic.”

“Good.” He looked up, pointed at Jen. John sighed, leaned back in his chair. God was in his heaven and all was right in the world. The waiter slid a plate in front of him, covered by a metal dome, and when he pulled the cover off, John smelled a mixed grill, calamari and octopus and strip steak seared over a charcoal fire.

“I’m Jennifer Painter, acting communications officer. Now you’re here, I’m going to recommend we split into media relations, that’s me, and communications, that’s Sam. He knows all about radios and secret codes and all that army boy-talk.” Jen leaned back and waited for her plate. “The two videos, the first of the assault and the second of the press conference, have been widely disseminated in the media. There is quite a bit of commentary in various social media sites, I would estimate 60/40 positive. However, I’m not sure they are moving us toward the end goal. We have not received any communication from either the Ministry of Culture, saying sorry we were such assholes, or from the Ministry of Justice, saying sorry we were such assholes, in the last twelve hours. At this time we have pending charges of blasphemy and no passports.”

“Do we have secure sat coms?”

“Yes.”

“Where is your father? Is he coming?”

“No idea,” she said and bent over her plate. Then she looked up again. “Oh, one other thing. I don’t have a passport.”

“That might be considered classified intel,” John said, looking around the room. “Let’s hold that discussion upstairs.”

Gabriel looked at the two boys. He’d seen pictures of them in their files back at the hotel in DC, so John thought he knew who they were. Gabriel pointed his fork at Eli. “What is the end goal? Do you just want to get the hell out of here as fast as you can? I can steal a chopper and we can head for Malta or the nearest aircraft carrier flying the stars and stripes.”

Eli shook his head, and Daniel reached over, grabbed his shoulder. “I’m not really sure what the end goal is,” he said. “I just want to make this right.”

Gabriel looked at John. “Okay.” He turned back to Eli and Daniel. “You two have your IVs out.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got this,” Daniel said, raising his casted hand. “Boxer’s fracture, can you believe that shit?”

Eli raised the splint and winced. “We don’t know if this is broken or not. We haven’t been able to leave the hotel for an X-ray. It hurts like a bitch and I can’t use my fingers. The doctor didn’t want to put a cast on while it was so swollen.”

“You’re both on your feet, a major tactical advantage. If we need to run, we can reinforce the splint so the arm’s safe.” He pointed to Abdullah. “This is Abdullah al-Salim. He speaks Arabic, he spent time in Kuwait when he was a young sprout, and he is a world-class cello player. Kim Baker,” he pointed to Kim, “is special counsel to General Mitchel. He’s our secret weapon,” Gabriel said, sliding another smile toward John, “because Kim thinks outside of the box. Okay, is that everybody?”

Daniel raised his hand. “Can I ask you something? My dad was in Desert Storm in ’90 and ’91, and he told me this story about a card game, poker or something, and there was a grass hula skirt and a coconut bra and a pitcher of piña coladas. I was just wondering if it was true?”

“Forsyth, Forsyth, let me think. Graham Forsyth, right? That’s your dad? Absolutely not true,” Gabriel said, “and if you have pictures I will swear they were doctored. Though he did look very sweet in that coconut bra.” He leaned back to let the waiter slide a plate in front of him. “General, I’ll need a few minutes after we eat.”

They all leaned over their plates, and then Kim spoke up. “Can you believe we’re sitting right on the shores of Ancient Carthage? I mean, how cool is that?”

Eli’s green eyes lit up. “I know! You should see the ruins. I can’t believe the stuff that’s just sitting out there! I mean, these cool mosaics and columns, and these big arches made out of golden stone, just laying everywhere, broken pieces of statues, Roman statues, in pieces on the ground!”

“Are the mosaics Roman or Carthaginian? I guess after they conquered the city, they brought in their own artists, right?”

“I don’t really know how they would look different.”

“We ought to look it up,” Kim said. “I saw something online, Eli. About your Elephant Clock. Remind me and I’ll show it to you when we get back to the room. Did you know Al-Jazari may well have invented the first mechanical robots?”

“You mean the Peacock Fountain?” Eli turned to Daniel. “That was what I was telling you! You pull a plug in the peacock’s tail, and then water flows so you can wash your hands, then a robot servant appears with soap. Then when you’re done, a second robot appears with a towel.”

Jen leaned forward. “How did they do it?”

“It’s a mechanical device,” John said, “and I understand there are gears and pulleys and water flowing from one area to another, forming shifting weights. Al-Jazari did quite a bit of work in the area of mechanical devices to lift water, really important in the desert, where life depends on deep wells. When I was an engineering student, a long time ago, we played around with some of the gears and pulleys. Nothing is as much fun as a mechanical perpetual motion machine. And his were particularly beautiful.”

John looked over at Gabriel, watched him take a bite of grilled calamari, his smiling mouth closing over the fork. Gabriel reached for his thigh under the table.

“We have lots to talk about,” John said.

“Yes, we do,” Gabriel agreed. “But not if you’re going to yell at me when I am doing my absolute level best to take care of everybody.”

“How’s Juan?”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “He’s fine. But you’re not going to believe it, John. Check this out.” He dug out his wallet, opened it to a little photo. He handed it over. The girl looked maybe fourteen, with high platform sandals, a pair of denim short-shorts over long, skinny legs, and a tee shirt pulled off one shoulder, the dark bra strap showing. She had lots of wild black hair pulled up and tumbling everywhere.

“She’s young to be a hooker, isn’t she? Did Kim take her picture when he was with the baby gangbangers? Do we need to call the social service people?”

Gabriel shook his head, stuffed the picture back in his wallet. “This little pinto bean is my son’s first girlfriend. He said they’ve had sex, and even better, have confessed their love for one other!”

“Oh, my God. She’s not… she’s too young to get pregnant, isn’t she?”

“Juan says not to worry, that a gentleman always wears a condom to protect his lady. I nearly drove the fucking bike off a cliff.”

John ate some more calamari. “She’s recruiting,” he guessed. “She’s bringing boys into the gang. One of the older guys is sending her out looking for nice suburban kids that the cops will never suspect of causing trouble.”

“That would be my guess, though Juan nearly punched me in the mouth when I suggested such a thing. Then he got nose to nose with a barn full of horses and cowboys and he forgot me completely.”

“Gabriel, did you just call this child a pinto bean?”

“Pinto Bean in not an ethnic slur when it is said by a man named Sanchez, who has family going back seven generations in New Mexico, about another person who has just fucked his innocent young son into joining a gang.”

“Oh, right, I forgot you were a conquistador in a former lifetime.”

“Her name is Conchita, but she goes by Cha Cha. I think the best thing to do is let Martha go talk to Cha Cha’s mama. Martha is going to take Father Gregory from St. Mathew’s and go down to the barrios and kick some fourteen-year-old butt. My guess is Cha Cha is going to find someone else to fall in love with her while Juan is learning to ride a horse.”

“Does Juan seem… is he okay with it all? Leaving Albuquerque and Conchita behind?”

“I think so. I think he was more freaked out than he would admit when one of the other boys let him hold his gun. Juan made sure Kim saw him. He knew exactly who it was when the other boys were talking about ‘this badass Korean dude with the camera.’” Gabriel wiped both hands down over his face, scrubbed hard. “When did Kim become badass? Jesus, give me a break. I gave Juan the sex ed talk again.”

“Yeah? How did that go?”

“He said he didn’t need it anymore since he was now a man. I guess when you’re a man you don’t need to listen to your father. I get the feeling by the time I get back he’ll be a man and a cowboy. Cody Dial’s a good father, got some nice boys.”

“You’re a good father, too. Don’t start feeling sorry for yourself.”

“You would not believe Billy’s mom. She is a beauty, like, for the ages, and she’s still so in love with Cody. It’s wild to see.”

“That’s gonna be me and you. Is there room for me on the back of your Harley?”

“Yes, General. I was thinking I could have a side car installed, give you a bit more room to stretch your legs.”

John flipped him the bird, but Gabriel just grabbed his hand, pressed it to his mouth. “I love you. Be sweet to me, okay? The last week has nearly killed me, and watching you get beat to shit on YouTube didn’t help.”

“What pisses me off is that it didn’t even work. It’s true, Ali Bahktar has not stormed the Regency, trying to recapture his prisoners, but the charges have also not been dropped and I got the lamest excuse for an apology you’ve ever heard. I mean, it was supposed to be us, the good guys, against the crazy Salafists. That was what I was going for, trying to make the Tunisians see these two boys, Eli and Daniel, are like their sons, not like some comic book outlines of every wild excess they associate with America. And it didn’t work. Now I’m afraid they’re going to try and make something up to justify what Bahktar did, grabbing them down in Carthage.”

“Kim has an idea. He thought he better tell you in private, though. Not sure how you’re sharing information.”

“It’s okay,” John said. “We’re in group problem solving mode, since I can’t seem to problem solve us out of a paper bag.” He looked over at Kim. The boys really were beautiful, he thought, watching them. Abdullah looked like some young Arabian prince, a sheik of the burning sands, black hair and wide smile, so much like his father had looked at his age. John had been half in love with Omar back then, as much for his subtle, quiet mind as for his desert hawk beauty. And Kim had a face so full of light and happiness; no one could look at him and not smile. “Kim, what’s your idea? Can you tell us?”