Veil of Silence (10 page)

CHAPTER EIGHT

The flight from Qatar to Germany was a long one.  The children woke up and were fed.  One by one Marsha took them to the lavatory to use the facilities and wash up.  She was grateful for Pete as she left the other child with him.  The man further back in the plane was looking at her as she came back each time.  Marsha leaned down and mentioned this to Pete and Johann so they would be aware, in case anything should come of it.  She was feeling very paranoid.

The children were awed by their first movie.  It was a Disney film in English that was dubbed in French and had Arabic subtitles.  Marsha didn’t care as long as it kept them amused.  They didn’t need to know what it said—the vivid colors and the characters kept them enthralled.  She was so tired and she knew the flight to Germany was only the second stage.

They ushered her off the plane first and got them in a golf cart to rush her to another flight.  Johann and Pete were on especially high alert, watching for the man from the plane.  Marsha was relieved to see English words and hear them spoken on the overhead announcements along with German and French.

“We have an hour before our next flight,” Johann told her when they arrived at the other gate.  “How about we get a real meal, no plane food?”  His head inclined towards a McDonalds and glanced towards the two frightened children that were clinging to their mother.  People were glancing at their burqas and some were frowning.

Marsha agreed and then watched with absolute joy as her children experienced their first hamburger and fries.  The shake made their eyes go round.  They’d experienced cold, even a bit of snow in their short lives, but nothing that drank cold, not like this.  The food, while foreign to their pallets, was absolutely delicious to them.  Marsha had to agree.  It had been so long since she had fast food that it felt odd on her tongue.  She was definitely not used to the grease anymore, and they used far too much salt!  Her tastes had definitely changed over the years…they were simpler.  She laughed as Bahir spit out the pickle, but when Amir started to play with the catsup, she put a stop to that.  It was very different from the sauces that the tribe made for their foods.

“We need to use the restrooms before we get on another plane,” Marsha warned the two guards.  Both Pete and Johann nodded understandingly.

Marsha was pleased to find a ‘family’ bathroom.  The two men stood guard outside as she took the children inside.  She quickly had them use the toilets.  The novelty of it and the loud flush it made was both frightening and still intriguing to both children.  Marsha sat down herself.  The tight space of the airplane lavatory had made it nearly impossible to use, especially with a burqa on.  She left off the black burqa when she came out of the restroom.  The rich gray of her costume bespoke class and wealth.  Both men realized instantly that it totally transformed her look.  The children also looked like classic little Afghan children in their beautiful native clothes.  Both men smiled appreciatively at the children.

“Are you ready?” Pete asked and Marsha nodded.  She stuffed the black burqas in their only carry-on bag, not knowing if they might need them once again to become anonymous.  She wore the chador that matched her outfit, across the lower half of her face.  No strand of hair was visible, merely her eyes.  They walked towards the terminal for the next flight, this one to the United States and one step closer to home.

While Marsha was in the bathroom with the kids, Pete commented to Johann, “She doesn’t talk much, does she?”  She’d been quiet on the flight into Germany too.

“She’s been through a lot.  I bet they wanted her to keep quiet.”

“They are going to thoroughly interrogate her when she gets home.  I would have thought they would do that here in Germany.”

“They would have if she had come in on a military flight, but they want to keep her hidden.  She’s hidden in plain sight this way.”

Pete agreed.  They were here not only to guard her, but also to escort her and her children.  It wasn’t any of their business what she had gone through or what the army decided to do with her.  She didn’t realize it, but she outranked both of the men.

The glances that Marsha and the children got now weren’t as hostile.  The vivid colors of the children’s native clothing drew smiles.  The elegance and obvious expensive look of Marsha’s silk burqa, her eyes downcast, and her demure attitude, made people treat her with respect.  Perhaps it was the two men accompanying them, but they weren’t as noticeable as the children.

“Passports and tickets please,” a rich German accent met them at the gate.  Marsha glanced at Pete who handed a small packet to the ticket taker.  Her eyes opened wide as she took in the two children, the covered woman, and the two men.  She stepped back for a moment, and after a heated discussion with her coworker, then a phone call, she handed back the packet.  “I will seat you first,” she said respectfully to Pete.  “Please sit until we announce the flight.”  She indicated the seats throughout the terminal.

He nodded and shepherded Marsha and her children to seats where he sat on one side of them and Johann on the other.  Amir bobbed back up almost as soon as he sat down.  He was fed, he was clean, and he had an exuberance of energy to burn off.  Marsha let him for now, making sure he didn’t disturb any of the other passengers.  Her eyes looked about, scanning, watching for anyone she might recognize.  Leaning over to Pete, she asked in a low voice, “What was in that packet?”

“Government documents identifying us as American soldiers.  It basically gives us VIP treatment since you and the children do not have official passports and Johann and I are undercover.  I listened to her conversation.”

“You speak German?”

He nodded before continuing, “So does Johann.  She was asking for directions and reading the documents to what I assume was her supervisor.  The supervisor had been alerted to watch for us and let us board first.  At least, that’s what I gleaned from her conversation.”  He smiled, showing even and white teeth.

“What makes me so important?” she wondered, not realizing she said it aloud.

“It’s what you know or might know that’s important,” he pointed out.

She nodded.  She knew she was just a cog in the wheel.  She had been unable to give them much back in Kabul.  She knew they wouldn’t give her much leeway.  She just desperately wanted to get home, to feel safe.  She wanted to get far away from Zabi and his people…not all of them, just most of them.

Marsha watched as the children ran around in the small area they had taken, away from others.  They were near enough to catch their flight and enclosed enough by the adult’s presence that the children could run off some of their exuberance.  They chased each other and Marsha shushed them when their noise got too loud.

Finally, they called their flight.  When he saw the microphone being picked up, Pete had been on his feet urging Marsha and the children to follow along.  Scooping up Amir who was being a real wiggle-worm, he behaved like a typical father.

“Moray?”

Marsha looked down into the bright brown eyes of her daughter.  “Yes, my daughter?” she answered softly, demurely, as a good woman would.  It had been beaten into her to express these types of manners.  A good woman was modest, quiet, and subservient.  She hadn’t been able to throw off that cloak of behavior in any form, at least not yet.  She wondered if she ever would.  She glanced at her clothing and wondered if, perhaps, when she put the burqa aside, it would help her become the army lieutenant,
now captain
she mentally corrected herself, she had been.

“Are we going on another…” she thought hard, trying to remember the word since she wasn’t familiar with it.  She ended up just pointing instead at the planes outside the terminal that were lined up on the tarmac.

“Yes, my daughter.  That is a plane.  We are going on another one,” she explained.  She knew the children were tired of being cooped up in the little metal tubes, but there was no other way to get where she was going.  Their world had been turned upside down since the festival when she snatched them up.  She was sorry for that.  The terror was one they would have for a long time.  She herself felt the fear that at any moment Zabi and his men would snatch her back.  It would not go well for her if he found her.  She remembered the many beatings, rapes, and humiliation she had experienced at his hands.  He had seemed to enjoy it—dominating her, breaking this ‘American.’  She felt the fear of what he had caused within her and it began to turn to anger.  It had been many years since she allowed that anger.  He had thought he had beaten it out of her, but he was wrong.  She had, instead, buried it deep and it was now coming through the cracks; she could feel it bubbling up.  She used it to keep her from the fear, from worrying about those men finding her.

Following behind Pete, keeping her head down, trying to appear less noticeable, she didn’t realize that just by her stance, her bearing, she was noticeable…almost regal.  The beautiful burqa lent an air of mystery to her and no one could tell she was pregnant.  The chador further enhanced the aura of mystery and her amazing, milk chocolate brown eyes, when seen, drew people to her.  She was absolutely unaware by her humble demeanor that she drew more attention that way than if she were wearing plain clothing.

They were seated with three on a side by the window, three in the middle, and another three on the other side of the aisle.  Marsha periodically looked up at the passengers filing in, but kept her head down so they didn’t see her perusing them.  The two aisles kept her bobbing up and down and she didn’t realize that Amir was bouncing on his seat until he fell out of it.  His screams of outrage and pain could be heard all over the plane.  Marsha immediately became the concerned parent and picked him up, determining that he had a simple bump, but due to being overtired, despite sleeping so much, he was just cranky.  It took the entire boarding time to calm him down until he was hiccupping and falling into an exhausted sleep in her arms.  Pete looked on sympathetically.  The stewardess had tried to help, but Marsha waved her away.  The toddler was just overtired and upset.

“Moray?” Bahir whispered worriedly.  All these changes were very upsetting to the little girl.  Her brother’s pain and crankiness was affecting her.  She was getting quieter since she couldn’t understand.  All she knew was that her second mother had taken her from everything she had ever known and put her in these different and often scary places.

Marsha saw the worried look on her daughter’s face and nearly broke into tears herself.  She was tired and she wanted the trip to be over.  She couldn’t sleep soundly, worried that she would wake up and find the children gone even though she knew Pete and Johann wouldn’t let that happen.  Marsha felt responsible for her children.  The baby inside of her was kicking hard against her rib cage.  It must sense her upset.  Reaching out, she first rubbed her stomach to ease the distress she could feel with the baby’s heel under her skin against her rib, almost as though it were stuck there.  Then she reached over and rubbed Bahir’s shoulder, pulling her a little closer as she rubbed Amir’s back.  He was almost asleep when the stewardess returned.  She was obviously annoyed with the crabby toddler.

“You will have to strap him in a seat,” she said snottily.  She was thinking to herself that these people didn’t even know enough to travel with children’s car seats.

Marsha looked up and noticed out of the corner of her eye as Pete stiffened up.  He stood up immediately, the visage of an outraged husband. 

“You will speak to my wife with respect,” he said angrily.  “Our child fell and was in need of comfort.”

Marsha was amazed that the heavily-accented voice, which normally spoke such normal American English, sounded just like it was from the Middle East.

“You, sir, will sit down or must I get the air marshal?” she blustered.

“Of course, I sit.  You will not talk to my wife in such a manner,” he told her as he pretended to concede to her wishes.  He sat back down and made a great show of fastening his seatbelt.

By the time this little incident had completed, Marsha had risen slightly and put Amir in the seat next to her, pushing Bahir to the seat against the window.

“Moray,” the youngster protested, but Marsha put a finger against the girl’s lips with a slight smile.  She then buckled Amir in and leaned him against the blanket she had readied in anticipation of him sleeping.  He didn’t really want to sleep.  He was still crabby and ready to fight her on it, so instead she began to rub his back as she sat back down in her own seat.

“You’ll have to buckle up,” the snotty stewardess said to her back.

Marsha nodded, but concentrated on her toddler.  He was nearly asleep.

“Miss,” the stewardess tried to get her attention again.

“I heard you,” Marsha said over her shoulder in perfect English, startling the obviously prejudiced woman.  She had thought she would intimidate the Middle Eastern-clad woman, assuming she spoke no English.  “We have a couple of minutes and he’s almost asleep.  Or do you want him to scream his lungs off to the discomfort of the other passengers?” her tone matched the woman’s.

The stewardess was startled, but knew she had the upper hand.  She decided to continue on with her seatbelt check, but when she returned, if the woman wasn’t in her seatbelt….

“Is he okay?” Pete whispered from across the aisle, still with the phony accent in case anyone was listening.