The General and the Elephant Clock of Al-Jazari (32 page)

Kim studied him, his eyes thoughtful. “Why, Uncle John?”

“Mr. Spock said it best. No, wait. Maybe it was Captain Kirk.”

Kim was rolling his eyes now, rolling his eyes and grinning. “You mean ‘The needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many’?”

“Exactly. Because we are all the one. Every
one
of us is all of us. For this mission, we protect Eli and Daniel and Jennifer, though she might argue the point. Maybe on another mission, they protect you, and they protect you with their lives. You see how that works?”

“Amazing,” Kim said, and his eyes were full of affection when he reached over and kissed John on the cheek. “This is what you’ve been doing all your life. You and the Horse-Lord, you blow me away.” He hesitated a moment. “Listen, can I ask you about something?”

“Sure.”

“Whenever you talk about this guy, Ali Bahktar, you call him a bad name. I mean, really demeaning names, like camel turd or piece of shit. What’s that about? It doesn’t seem like you.”

“It’s a technique warriors use to dehumanize the enemy.” Kim just stared at him. “Kim, the purpose of fighting a war is to kill the enemy. We couldn’t kill people we love.”

“But doesn’t it have consequences? Like, for your heart and soul? I mean, you know you’re doing it. It’s not an unconscious behavior, these demeaning names. And he’s a human being. I know you recognize his humanity. Wouldn’t the thing to do be to get to know him as a person, so then we can’t hate him? At that point we start to change his attitude.”

“It is not the job of a warrior to educate the enemy. The warrior stands fast between the tides of evil and the people he’s responsible to protect, and he kills when his people are threatened. Or he dies for the same cause. The warrior will mourn the dead, those he kills, and his brothers, dead by an enemy’s hand. But at the time you’re running and he’s chasing you down in his car, with the intent of leaving your bloody, battered body in a filthy alleyway in Carthage for me to find, we are not going to worry about what makes him our enemy. He is the enemy. Ali Bahktar is dumb as a stone and has little control over his emotions, making him easy to manipulate. But that doesn’t matter at this point. He is dumb as a stone, but quite deadly, and your IQ of 139 will not protect you from him. I will mourn the loss of his human potential at a later time. And for probably not very long. I don’t really care anymore that he tried to kill me. That tells me something about his character and the people who raised him. But regardless, I’m going to have a hard time forgiving what happened to Eli.”

“He tried to kill you? Ali Bahktar?”

“He tried to cut my throat when he was a teenager, in a Bedu tent out in the desert. Gabriel stopped him.” John looked at Kim’s face, started smiling. “Feel a little differently about that piece of shit camel turd Ali Bahktar now, little warrior-san? It doesn’t matter what he has done in the past. Eli and Daniel are our mission.”

“Human beings are beyond fucking belief if you ask me,” Kim said. “Even breathing I seem to confuse myself.”

“Me, too, kiddo. I need to show you something on YouTube.”

Kim studied the video, and he gave a low whistle when Gabriel lifted Ali Bahktar off the ground by the throat. “Man, Uncle Gabriel is ripped! Too bad he couldn’t have done that with his shirt off!”

“Kim, you’re missing the point.”

“Okay, so what’s the point? What’s all that Arabic?”

“Something about the gay onslaught. But the point is they might be gunning for him. You know what Bahktar and his thugs look like now. Keep your eyes peeled.”

“Roger that, Captain Ahab.”

John leaned back, let Kim get up and refill his coffee cup. “You call me Captain Ahab? I’m not the one who just made a hundred kites for the children of Carthage, painted to look like the Elephant Clock of Al-Jazari.”

T
HE
crew looked tired when they assembled in the living room that morning. The housekeeping staff brought in another enormous breakfast cart, and John had to wonder if they were trying to drug them into submission with pancakes and scrambled eggs.
Just feed me enough, I’ll go quietly!
John pointed at the trays, and Daniel and Sam got down on their knees, inspected the underside of the cart.

Eli stood up while everyone was filling their plates. “General Mitchel, can I say something?”

“Of course, Eli.”

“I just want to tell everybody thanks for sticking it out. I know you’re all staying here for me, so we can do this thing today. Because I didn’t want to run. It means something to me, that you guys stuck with me. So thanks.”

He sat back down, and Sam stood up. “General Mitchel, can I say something too?”

“Sure, Sam.”

“I just wanted to say thanks for making me your aide. I know I haven’t contributed much but I’m ready, I mean, if you need anything, and I just wanted to say thanks for giving me a chance.”

He sat back down, his face flushing pink.

“Sam, you have been an outstanding aide. I couldn’t have asked for better.”

Now Gabriel raised a hand. “General Mitchel? Can I say something?”

Daniel and Wylie were nudging each other and grinning.

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

“We have a tradition at the end of these little missions, to give an award to the team member showing the strongest balls and biggest brains. We call it the Big Dick award, and you guys get to vote for the Big Dick. General Mitchel and myself are not eligible.” He reached a hand for Jennifer’s shoulder. “And tough chickies are eligible to be the Big Dick too. Chicks have balls, they’re just smart enough to keep them hidden. I’ll be collecting votes tonight, over a plate of spaghetti at NAS Sigonella.” A ragged cheer broke out.

Daniel raised his hand. “What does the Big Dick get?”

“He gets to be the Big Dick! Wylie, if you and Jackson win, the general will have tee shirts made with Big Dick printed on the front, and we’ll mail them to you.”

M
R
. A
ZIZ
had two vans to transport the kites, and the crew climbed in among the vans and the two Jeeps that Wylie and Jackson brought from the embassy. Before they left the hotel, John called Greg Mortimer, briefed him about the new video making the rounds. Greg promised he would do a little scouting around and call John if he heard anything.

They drove down to the UNESCO World Heritage site, the ancient city of Carthage, and joined the crowds walking around the tumbled marble columns. The site looked so cool and white, so ancient and wild, framed by the sky and the clear teal blue of the Mediterranean Sea. The remains of the city, walls and arches and carved stone gates, were made out of local stone that glowed like honey in the warm light.

Eli and Kim waved to the director. The old man was setting up a podium on a wooden stage, as well as a projector and screen where they were going to show a video of the Elephant Clock. Kim had found a second video as well, in Arabic, about the great Arabic inventors. The crowds were mostly young families with their children, holding hands while they walked around, looking at the beautiful Roman mosaics and climbing on the marble columns.

There was a line of children forming near the pretty white Bactrian camels, and a couple of Bedu in traditional robes were lifting the children up, putting them in the high saddles for a ride around the sand pit. A couple of balloons drifted loose, purple and pink, floating on the warm air. The smell of grilled caramel and burnt sugar from the candy makers, cinnamon and roasting nuts, and just for a moment John felt dizzy, remembering the smell of sweet mint tea, dust, and sun-warmed canvas, in the tent of Ali Bahktar’s grandfather. That was so many years ago. How were they still circling around the same danger? It was like a Hydra.

The wind was strong and cool coming off the water, perfect kite-flying weather. Mr. Aziz was nearly beside himself with excitement. John stood with him near the back of the van, along with a couple of his sons he’d brought along to watch their backs. John thought Mr. Aziz was perfectly aware of their plan to leave from the festival for the airport, though he had not said anything, and John was relieved the hotel manager wouldn’t be left here alone, a likely target.

Kim and Eli climbed up to the wooden stage, and Kim hooked his computer up to the projector. He’d spliced the two videos together so they would run as a loop. Eli had a couple of the kites to show the kids, one with a beautiful elephant painted blue, another with the phoenix from the top of the elephant clock, tail feathers painted scarlet and yellow. The Director stepped up to the microphone.

“Welcome to Children’s Day at the Bardo Museum! Today we celebrate the great Islamic inventor Al-Jazari and the most magnificent traveler the world has ever known, Ibn Battuta. Watch the Elephant Clock at work on the movie screen, through the eyes of the great traveler. See the beautiful pages from Al-Jazari’s book,
The Book of Knowledge of Ingenious Mechanical Devices
, painted on kites, a gift from our brothers, special friends of the Tunisian people. We will have a prize for the most skilled kite flyer! The white vans with the logo of the Regency, there in the back, this is where you can go for your kite. Oh, also, we have a special concert from the famous cellist, Abdullah Al-Salim, currently with the San Francisco Symphony!”

Abdullah had his stand and chair, and the cello propped against his thigh. John could tell by the way he was looking around that he was not happy about how near the camels he had been parked. He glared at the camels over his shoulder, his nostrils pinched.
City kid
. But John had no time to help him. He and Mr. Aziz were handing out the kites, painted diamonds of sturdy Tyvek, the crossbars balsa wood and with long tails of brightly colored silk. The paintings on the kites were small bits of the elephant clock, a dragon’s head or an elephant’s eye or the magical red tail of a phoenix. John had wondered if this idea was going to translate, but the joy of kites in the hands of small boys and girls on a sunny windy day seemed to live across cultures.

The children waiting for their kites were leaping like little goats, tugging free of their mother’s hands and shouting, pointing up into the sky. John watched the first few running launches, heard the shrieks of excitement when the kites took to the blue sky over Carthage. He exchanged smiles with Mr. Aziz when they passed out the last kite. It was incredible, the sky already full of wild color, children laughing and running in every direction, the sea shining beyond the ruins of the ancient city. Several camera crews were filming the beautiful chaos. The video was playing on the huge screen, the phoenix spinning, the dragon dropping the ball into his mouth. Eli threw his arm around Kim’s shoulders, and they smiled at each other.

“I need to get with the boys,” John said, and he offered Mr. Aziz his hand. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Aziz.”

“It has been my very great pleasure, General Mitchel.”

John surveyed the crew. Gabriel had his back to the camels, watching everyone; Daniel was helping a couple of boys untangle their kites. Wylie was walking the perimeter, talking into his radio. Jen and Sam, where were they? He spotted Sam, looking helpless, but he couldn’t find Jen, until he noticed a dirty urchin running along a fallen marble column, her kite cartwheeling in the wind. She was laughing, and Sam reached up and lifted her down from the top of the marble. Eli and Kim were with the director, each boy holding an arm. By the look of delight on their faces, he was telling them a story.

It was pandemonium worthy of a wild and original mind, joy rolling on the wind. John looked at Gabriel and touched his watch. Gabriel nodded, his face unreadable behind his pilot sunglasses, a bit of functional cool Kim would never touch with his John Varvatos shoes and Armani suits. Gabriel leaned over, spoke in Abdullah’s ear, then gestured for Daniel.

The phone rang in John’s pocket. It was Greg Mortimer. “John, get out of there now. They’ve issued an arrest warrant for the Horse-Lord.” John spun around. Wylie was running, talking into the radio. John waved a hand, caught Sam’s attention and pointed to the Jeeps. “Madeline’s going to the Ministry, but it’ll be too late. They’re coming, John.”

He stuck the phone in his pocket and looked at Gabriel across the ruins of the city. He knew something was up, helping Abdullah shove the cello into the case, Daniel at his back, scanning the crowd. John stared across the golden stone blocks, tumbled and broken at his feet, felt something hollow in his throat, wondered if one of them was going to die this day. Maybe if one heart stopped beating, the other would stop too. That would be the best, if they could go together, if they could be touching each other when they died. Gabriel took off his sunglasses, looked at him for a long moment, the sun strong in his face. Then John turned and ran for Eli and Kim.

He bolted through the crowds of children, leapt up the wooden steps to the stage. “Let’s go, let’s go,” he said, “we’ve got trouble.” Eli turned to the director, hugged him, and John grabbed Kim, pulled him by the arm. Then he was running, bent low, and jumped off the stage, both boys following close behind. “Be careful, watch the rocks.”