Warlord: Dervish (11 page)

“Course I’m real. What you think?”

“You’re really real. It’s just that…my last day—the last day I remember, I was talking to you, and then they come and got me, and when they walked me past your cell…you weren’t there.”

“I don’t remember everything…” Bronson rubbed his index finger against his teeth, trying to dislodge a piece of food “…but I remember dey took me out of there ‘fore dey took you.”

Jason motioned with his hands and face, indicating he didn’t get it.

“Listen, B. I think I’s got an idea what’s going on here, aight, but I don’t got it all worked out. Sometin’ I
do
know: time was passin’ in there, I couldn’t tell how much or nothin’. But they was giving us drugs in them cells, right?”

Jason would never forget the bald man and his needles.

“Yeah. Hey, how’d you know it was me…in there…in
here
?”

Bronson took his finger out of his mouth and pointed at Jason. “I got real nigga vision, B.”

“You got…?” Jason suppressed a laugh as he realized the man was joking with him.

“No.
You
got. You got white boy written all over you.”

“And they don’t?” Jason nodded past Bronson to the seated group.

Bronson didn’t bother to turn around. “Shit if it was dem.” He didn’t sound thrilled with the four.

“What about him?” Jason indicated a young light-skinned man who sat by himself, furthest from everyone.

“Oh, dat boy just ain’t right.”

“What do you mean?”

“His eyes. You get a chance, check out his eyes. Why you smilin’, B?”

“Nothing. You remind me of someone. That’s all.”

“One o’ yo’ students?”

“No.” Jason was thinking of Tucker. Bronson reminded him of Tucker. Somewhat less abrasive perhaps; it was too early to tell. But Tucker…Tucker had reminded Jason of students he’d taught. “Yeah, maybe,” Jason hurriedly amended. “So, what do you think is going on?”

“I’ll tell you what I think, B. I think shit here’s about to get real interestin’.”

The wise-guy from the table of four had walked up to one of the women—not the one Jason had tried to talk to and not the one who sat at the table next to his. This woman was pretty in an understated way, like maybe with a little make up and a different setting she’d be something else. Jason could see the guy clearly now. Curly hair, five o’clock shadow, a paunch. He didn’t look military. He looked like a miscreant.

The man must have said something the woman didn’t agree with because she gave him a dirty look and spat something right back at him. If her words were intended to offend or dissuade the man they didn’t seem to have that effect. He laughed maliciously and put one hand down on her table, leaning his weight on it, bending in to talk to her.

The woman at the table next to Jason and Bronson spoke out loud. Jason didn’t catch her words.

The paunchy man had. “What’d you say?” He stood up straight, glaring at the lithe, thin woman. “I said,
what’d you say
?”

“Yeah,” Bronson muttered under his breath, “shit gonna get real interestin’.”

The guy with the belly was walking towards the lone woman’s table. A second man—the youngest looking of the four—had risen and followed in his friends’ wake, circling the tables to come up behind her.

Everyone in the cafeteria was watching the scene unfold.

The woman pushed her tray away from herself and repeated whatever she had said. It wasn’t in English, but the meaning was clear. She didn’t look intimidated.

The chubby guy stopped when he was on the other side of the table from her.

“Got something you want to say, princess?”

The seated woman rested both hands on the table in front of her, palms down.

“
Huh
?” the chubby man challenged her, the intent on his face unmistakable.

A set of double doors banged against the wall and two uniformed men strode into the mess hall. From their height, similar attirement, and gait, they appeared twins. Walking side by side, their footfalls echoed in the cavernous mess hall. Neither wore a sidearm, but both had tasers in their web belts.

“You—” one of them spoke as they approached, indicating the petulant man “—back to your seat,
now
.

“You too,” he commanded the man’s friend.

The two chastised men looked at each other, then to their table. The man smoking the cigarette waved them back before grinding his smoke out in a tray. The chubby guy whispered something to the seated woman, turned and left.

The uniformed duo came to a halt, standing at attention. They didn’t speak. Their eyes were cold and hard.

The double doors opened with another boom and a third man in camouflage marched into the room. He was shorter than the first two but older. He wore no identifying insignia or leadership tabs, yet he possessed an unmistakable air of authority. Bald, he wore mirrored aviator sunglasses, and a pistol rested on his hip.

Jason found himself standing up, raising a hand to his forehead in a salute. Bronson, looking up at him, scoffed and lowered his head.

The man walked over to where the other two had stopped, stepping between them. “At ease.” His voice boomed in the capacious mess hall. Although Jason was the only one who had stood and saluted, the words were meant for all. Jason sat back down and the man continued.

“The usual formalities will not apply here. The rule is simple: show respect, and you will be accorded respect.”

He stopped for a few moments while one of the two other men repeated what he said in a language Jason did not recognize.

“I am Major Hess. I am your operations coordinator. You will do what I tell you to do. You will not question what I tell you to do. You have all been talked to. You have all agreed. You are here for a reason. I am here for that same reason.”

Major Hess paused periodically for his attaché to translate.

“My presence here is very simple. It’s my job to keep you alive. I am here to see that you emerge from the other end of this thing in one piece. There is no guarantee that that will happen. However, in order for me to achieve my objective,
you
need to
listen to me
as you work, in turn, to achieve yours.

“You need to do
exactly
as I say. My instructions will—at times—appear counter-intuitive. They may make little to any sense. Nevertheless, you must do as I command. I cannot guarantee you that you will survive the days ahead. I cannot guarantee that you will survive to go home to your families. But one thing I can guarantee you. If you fail to listen to me, if you fail to heed my directions, you
will not
survive what is ahead of you.”

One of the four men seated together had raised his hand. Major Hess ignored him.

“Today, I want you to eat and rest. Entertainment is available throughout the complex. Because of the sensitive nature of our undertaking, communication with the outside world is forbidden. Do not ask. Attempted transgressions will be dealt with accordingly. If you listen to what I say—less than a week from now—most of you will be on your way home. There is no reason why it shouldn’t be
all
of you. The ball, figuratively speaking, ladies and gentlemen, is in your court.”

Without another word, Major Hess turned sharply on his heel and strode from the room. The two men that had preceded his entrance followed. The double doors closed behind them.

The guy with his hand raised lowered it.

“Somethin’ ain’t right ‘bout that guy, B.”

Jason didn’t respond to Bronson, waiting as the four men got up together. They made a lot of noise as they left the mess hall, disappearing through a set of double doors at the opposite end of the room. “And those guys are trouble.” Jason mopped his plate with the last of his toast.

“They is,” Bronson agreed. “But I think they bitin’ off more than dey can chew with home girl over there.”

Jason raised any eyebrow as he chewed, asking Bronson why he thought so.

“Homie’s IDF.”

IDF. Jason knew what that meant.
Israeli Defense Forces
.

“How you know that?”

“Tattoo on her arm.”

“You got an eye for detail, huh?”

“Like I said,” Bronson reminded him. “Real nigga vision. Well…” The black man stood up “…I gots to take a shit. I’m a catch up wit’ you later, aight?”

“Yeah, all right. Hey, Bronson?”

“W’s up, B?”

“Thanks.”

Bronson smiled.

Jason spent the remainder of the day exploring the complex. Wide hallways connected a series of rooms, none of which could be described as small. Many were near hangar size and most were bare. Jason started off backtracking the way he’d come, checking the rooms off the hall he’d traversed earlier, the hall connecting the cafeteria to the barracks. He found doors that had been secured before were now unlocked, though most offered nothing. Again, Jason noted how none of the rooms had windows. Furthermore, each room, depending on its size, had at least one camera. The cameras were invariably mounted near the ceiling, out of reach.

When he’d checked all the rooms off that corridor and found them empty, Jason walked back through the mess hall. The dark-skinned man who wasn’t black was examining the door Hess and his two lackeys had come and gone by.
Lackeys
. Jason thought that about summed them up.

“This room is the only one that appears secured.” As soon as he said it, Jason could tell that English wasn’t the man’s native language. Jason pegged him for some kind of Arab, but he couldn’t place him.

“Is that so?” he replied.

“Yes. I am Ahmed.” Ahmed offered his hand and Jason took it.

“I’m Buf—nah, you know what? Screw that. I’m Jason.”

“
Jason
.” Ahmed nodded, turning back to the door. “What do you think they have behind this door, Jason?”

“I have no idea, Ahmed.” Jason said the man’s name so he wouldn’t forget it, the same reason he figured Ahmed repeated his name. “What do you think?”

“This must lead to the remainder of the complex…” Ahmed scanned the area where the door met the walls and ceiling, “…and the elevator.”

“The elevator?”

“We are underground.” Ahmed stated it with certainty.

“You think?”

“Yes.”

Jason pointed across the mess hall to the set of double doors located there. “What’s over there?”

“No elevators or stairs.” Ahmed stood with his hands on his hips, staring at the door like it was a puzzle waiting to be cracked. “I can tell you that.”

“I think I’m gonna check it out.”

“Would you mind if I accompanied you, Jason?”

“No.” Jason meant
no, he wouldn’t mind if Ahmed came along
, but he could tell by the look on Ahmed’s face that the man was confused. English, Jason figured, had to be a son of a bitch to nonnative speakers. “What I mean is—come on.”

Ahmed seemed pleased.

“I’m remembering things…” Jason related as they walked “…but I don’t remember how I got here.”

“We were drugged.”

“Yeah, we were. Why do you think we’re here, Ahmed?”

“I do not know why you are here, but I am here because I am an interpreter.”

Jason couldn’t place him. Was he Iraqi? Afghani? His name wasn’t much of a clue. Jason had known a guy from India named Ahmed when he was in college. “What languages do you speak?”

“Arabic, Farsi, Pashto and Dari, some Kurdish, a little English.”

“A little English? You’re English sounds pretty straight to me, Ahmed.”

“This means I speak it well?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

They walked through the double doors and into a wide hallway seemingly identical to the other Jason had traversed.

“This place all looks the same to me, Ahmed.”

The interpreter grunted his agreement.

“These rooms are empty,” Ahmed indicated the first sets of double doors opposite each other. “But up ahead, I think you will find something of interest.”

A pair of doors on the left side of the corridor opened outwards as two men emerged. Jason recognized them at once: the paunchy trouble-maker and his young friend who’d moved to back him up with the Israeli. Miscreant—that’s how Jason thought of the fat guy—said something to his friend and they both smirked.

“What you looking at?” Miscreant quipped as they passed Jason and Ahmed.

Jason stopped and stared at him. Ahmed reached out and took his arm. “Come Jason,” he said quietly. “You heard the major. ‘Transgressions will be punished’. Accordingly.”

Neither of the two men walking away looked back.

“Yeah. Okay.” Jason indicated the door the two had exited. “What’s in there?”

Pushing the doors open, they stepped inside. Though it was one of the smaller rooms here, it was still larger than most rooms Jason had ever been in. The only furnishings were the folding chairs set up around a video game console connected to a large flat screen television. Two men—the other two from the gang of four—were seated, working game controllers.