Honor Among Thieves

“So what’s she jabbering on about, then?” demanded Cohen, before Aziz had been given the chance to translate his cousin’s words.

“It seems the professor was right. The soldiers have been warned to look out for an army truck being driven by four terrorists. But her uncle had already been in touch this morning to warn her we’d be in the Cadillac.”

“Then it must be a hell of a risk to try and get past them,” said Hannah.

“A risk,” agreed Aziz, “but not a hell of a risk. Jasmin crosses this checkpoint twice a day, every day, to sell oranges, tangerines and dates from our village. So she’s well known to them, and so is my uncle’s car. My uncle says she must be in the Cadillac when we go through the checkpoint. That way they won’t be suspicious.”

“But if they decide to search the trunk?”

“Then they won’t get their daily ration of cigarettes or fruit for their families, will they? You see, they all take it for granted we must be smuggling something.”

Jasmin started chattering again and Aziz listened dutifully. “She says you must all climb into the trunk before someone passing spots us.”

“It’s still a hell of a risk, Professor,” said Cohen.

“It’s just as big a risk for Jasmin,” said Scott, “and I don’t see any other route.” He folded up the map, walked around to the back of the car, opened the trunk and climbed in. Hannah and Cohen followed without another word.

“Not as comfortable as the safe,” remarked Hannah as she put her arms around Scott. Aziz wedged the bag between her and Cohen. Hannah laughed.

“One bang on the side of the door,” said Aziz, “and I’ll be stopping at the checkpoint.”

He slammed down the trunk. Jasmin grabbed her bags from the side of the road and jumped in next to her cousin.

The three of them in the trunk heard the engine splutter into action and begin its more stately progress over the last few miles towards Khalis. Jasmin used the time to brief Aziz on her routine whenever she crossed the checkpoint.

Chapter Thirty-Four

The chief was hanged first. Then his brothers, one by one, in front of the rest of the village, but none of them uttered a word. Then they moved on to his cousins, until a twelve-year-old girl, who hoped to save her father’s life, told them about the strangers who had stayed in the chief’s house the previous night.

They promised the little girl that her father would be saved if she told them everything she knew. She pointed out into the desert to show them where they had buried the truck. Twenty minutes of digging by the soldiers and they were able to confirm that she was telling the truth.

They contacted General Hamil by field phone. He found it hard to believe that thirty of the Zeebari tribe had taken the chief’s Cadillac to pieces and carried it bit by bit across the open desert.

“Oh, yes,” the little girl assured them. “I know it’s true because my brother carried one of the wheels all the way to the road on the other side of the desert,” she declared, pointing proudly towards the horizon.

General Hamil listened carefully to the information over the phone before ordering that the girl’s father and brother should also be hanged.

He returned to the map on the wall and quickly pinpointed the only possible road they could have taken. His eye moved along the path across a stretch of desert until it joined another winding road, and then he realized which town they would have to pass through.

He looked at the clock on his desk: 4:39. “Get me the checkpoint at Khalis,” he instructed the young Lieutenant.

Aziz saw a stationary van in the distance being inspected by a soldier. Jasmin warned him it was the checkpoint and tipped out the contents of one of her bags onto the seat between them.

Aziz banged on the side of his door, relieved to see there were only two soldiers in sight, and that one of them was sleeping in a comfortable old chair on the other side of the road.

When the car came to a halt Scott could hear laughter coming from somewhere. Aziz passed a pack of Rothmans to the guard.

The soldier was just about to wave them through when the other guard stirred from his drowsy slumber like a cat who had been resting for hours on a radiator. He pushed himself up, moved slowly towards the car and looked over it with admiration, as he had done many times before. He began to stroll around it. As he passed the trunk he gave it a loving slap with the palm of his hand. It flicked open a few inches. Scott pulled it gently closed as Jasmin dropped a

carton of two hundred Rothmans on the ground by her side of the car.

The border guard moved quickly for the first time that day. Jasmin gave him a smile as he retrieved the cigarettes, and whispered something in his ear. The soldier looked at Aziz and started laughing, as a large truck stacked with crates of beer came to a halt behind them.

“Move on, move on,” shouted the first soldier, as the sight of greater rewards caught his eye. Aziz quickly obeyed and lurched forward in second gear, nearly throwing Cohen and the holdall out of the back.

“What did you say to that soldier?” asked Aziz once they were out of earshot.

“I told him you were gay, but I would be returning on my own later.”