Desert Winds

As the first rays of sunlight touched the desert, a man stood watching a van weaving down the dusty road. The man looked down at a device in the palm of his hand. Pulling a tattered prayer mat from his run-down car and unrolled it next to him as the van approached. Kneeling on the mat, he slid the device under his robe.

The van stopped, and Abdul el-Azzam saw two armed men step out. They dressed in typical attire, and one of them spoke in Arabic, "What brings you out on the road so early?"

Responding to the man in perfect Arabic, Abdul said, "I wanted to get an early start to sell my wares in town."

"Oh really? What kind of goods do you sell?" the man said.

"Clothing and trinket jewelry. Do you want to buy anything?" Abdul asked.

"Not today, boy! And you better watch yourself because you never know who is out there on the road." the man said as his partner laughed.

They drove off into the oasis town of Tamanrasset, a destination along the Trans Sahara Highway in southern Algeria. Abdul made sure they were out of sight and took off his boot. He removed the sole and placed the device in a hidden compartment. Taking out his cell phone, he searched for a signal, then sent a message, 'Vehicle verified. Package in route.'

Abdul's mission from the CIA was to monitor the movements of a terrorist organization known as 'The Brotherhood' and gather information about how they financed their organization. It was a difficult task because there was little creditable information, only rumors and a wake of destruction and death left behind.

Abdul had been on this mission for four months, but he was a highly trained individual with a particular skill in foreign languages. Working as a translator in the American embassy in France, the CIA trained him in field intelligence.

Through one of Abdul's sources, he learned about a large shipment of cocaine, and he managed to slip a tracking device into a brick of cocaine when it started its journey in Agadez, Niger. He was more interested in the connection to 'Brotherhood' leaders, not the cocaine itself. He was most interested in Zaid Arkour, a high-value target who had alluded authorities for years.  

When Abdul came into town, he noticed a group of men standing next to a pick-up truck, hoping to be selected to work by the construction company. Probably migrants, looking for a way to get north to the Medditerainian Sea and out of the country.

Clay buildings lined the streets, and Abdul picked a spot to set up shop near the location of the signal from the tracking device. The smell from the local food truck wafted through the air. Vendors had baskets of citrus fruits, dates, figs, and almonds. It was March, one of the cooler months, so tourists were out buying things. 

Abdul guessed that the van parked behind a building on the corner. When the day ended, he decided to park his car in an alley close to the corner building and rest. He didn't sleep well recently. The long hours, high stress, and the demand for perfection because one wrong move meant certain death. About to doze off, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Damn it! What does HQ want now?

"Hello. Do you guys know what time it is here?"

"Sorry, Agent, but we have word from a local man, and he wants to meet tomorrow morning. He says he has information about Zaid Arkour and a possible location."

"How will I find him? Where? Will this be worth my time because I've got the 'package' to watch?" replied Abdul.

"Yes, this will be worth it. The man will have a fruit stand with a green umbrella with a piece of red cloth hanging on it. The location is the fountain outside the Hôtel Tahat at nine."

"But sir, that's five blocks away. I don't want to lose the shipment." protested Abdul.

"It has been weeks since we've had a shred of information about Arkour. The last person that talked had his head removed from his shoulders! The people are afraid of the consequences of speaking out. It is a risk we have to take. Remember that we are after the big fish." 

"Yes, sir." Abdul quietly replied, but the line was already dead.

Why did the commander want to gamble like that? Could this be a trap? A red herring meant to throw me off the trail? Abdul tried to sleep, but he couldn't keep the nagging doubt out of his head. 

Waking up early, Abdul walked to a local restaurant. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the air. He ordered chakchouka and tea for breakfast, sat at an outside table, and tried to clear his head. 

At 8:30 AM, Abdul left for the Hôtel Tahat. Turning into the parking lot, Abdul scanned the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Parking his car out of the way, he paused and reached into the glove compartment for a small pistol putting it in his waistband under his robe. Stepping out into the bright sunlight, a gust of wind blew some dust into his face. Abdul fought the wind, looking up when he could, trying to see the fruit stand with the green umbrella. 

Finally, he found what he thought was the man. Approaching cautiously, he saw the man's wide, dark eyes and shaking hands. Something didn't feel right to Abdul. It felt too easy. He whispered to the man, "I hear you have some information for me." 

The man stood silent, nervously shaking. Then he reached under his robe. Abdul realized he was wearing a suicide vest, and he shoved the man down, trying to buy him some time to dive for cover. His only hope was to get behind the large fountain and brace for the blast. With only seconds to spare, he took a few steps and dove into the fountain, hearing the shout from behind, "Brotherhood forever!" and then the explosion rocked the surrounding area.

Chaos followed the blast. Screams of terror erupted. Dust and debris were scattered around. The bodies of the dead or dying surrounded the site. Abdul knew he had to leave immediately, pulling himself out of the fountain, pain from his right leg shot through him. Grimmising in pain, he tore a strip from his robe and wrapped it around his bloody leg. 

Abdul managed to hobble to his car, driving off, hearing sirens in the distance. As he turned the corner, he noticed the same van he had tracked into town three days earlier, going in the opposite direction. Anger bubbled in his chest, then burst from his mouth, "Shit! What else can go wrong today?"

Not wanting to attract any unnecessary attention by turning around suddenly, Abdul slowly pulled over and parked. Taking the tracking device out of his boot, he looked at the screen and was confused at what he saw. 

The signal from the shipment showed that it hadn't moved from the corner building. Coming closer to the building, Abdul spotted a group of people gathered around a large bus in front. He walked over to the group and asked a pregnant woman standing in line about what was happening.

"Everyone is trying to buy a seat on the bus headed to the Mediterranian Sea. I hope I can get on board. My dream is to get to Paris, France, and have my baby there. Then we can be happy." the woman answered timidly. 

Abdul knew the last chance to save his mission was to get a seat on that bus. There was no time to pack anything, only what he had with him, which was enough. Leaving his car behind meant nothing to him. There were no papers, photos, or evidence of him ever being in Tamanrasset.

Turning to the woman, he asked, "How much will this journey cost?"

"I have no idea. I brought only the funds my dead husband left me," she answered.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. Can I have your name?" Abdul asked.

Smiling but embarrassed of the sudden attention of an unknown man, "Of course. It is Qisma. And your's?"

"Abdul. You are brave for taking this journey alone." Abdul said, smiling back at her. 

Abdul saw a woman who had been through many trying times but had prevailed until now. A dangerous world to be in for a woman, especially in her situation.

"Next up!" shouted a large, intimidating man, who Abdul assumed was running things.

With seats filling up, the smugglers would be extorting the people, driving up the price to get every last cent from them. Abdul had sufficient funds to pay for the journey, but would there be a seat left for him. All he could do was wait now. He didn't want to alert the two armed men guarding the bus by making a rash decision. 

"Three seats left!" cried the intimidating man.

Abdul counted the people ahead of him and would have to outbid a man in front of him to get a seat and breathed a sigh of relief.

A bidding war began but was short-lived, and Abdul had a seat on the bus. Qisma was next and asked, "What will the price be?"

"For you, it will be one and a half the price." said the man.

Qisma burst into tears, "But this is all I have!"

"I can't help you. The extra money is because of your child. Next!" said the man.

Abdul stepped in and said, "I'll pay the rest for my wife."

"Alright then. The bus is full and leaves in one hour! Everyone else, go home!" the man said as Abdul put out more money on the table. 

Qisma stood in shock at the events. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. An unknown man gives her money for nothing. 

"Why did you do that for me? I'm not your wife," Qisma said.

"We both know that you will need protection from those thieves. I did it because I want you to have your dream of going to Paris. To get you out of the darkness that is this country!" Abdul snapped back at her.

"Whatever your reasons, thank you. I owe you everything," whispered Qisma.

"No, you don't," Abdul said calmly.

Over a quick lunch, Qisma asked Abdul what he knew about Paris. 

"Is it true that women in Paris have a dress for every day of the year? Do they have buildings that touch the sky? Schools that make people super smart?"

"Yes, it's true that many women in Paris have multiple dresses for many different occasions. There are many skyscrapers in Paris and many universities too." Abdul said, watching her eyes widen with every word.

They got back to the bus as it was loading, and the people were only allowed one bag per person. After shutting the doors, the bus slowly rolled out, starting on its epic journey.

As the day turned into night, Abdul started to doze off. Hitting a bumpy patch of road, Abdul ignored it and continued resting. 

Abdul woke up early, looking out of the bus, only to see nothing but open desert in all directions. He set up straight but said nothing. He couldn't complain about being lost. He might get kicked off the bus and left to die in the desert. He noticed that there were mountains ahead of them. These must be the Hoggar mountains. But they were east of the Trans Sahara Highway. What were they doing in the middle of nowhere? Was there some unknown rest stop nearby? All those questions swirled through his mind as he tried to focus.

The afternoon sun baked the terrain. The passengers asked for water, and the smugglers were stingy but handed out the water bottles. After a short break, the bus headed into the endless sunset.

Abdul noticed the bus stopping somewhere in the middle of the night. Looking out the window, he saw a large complex of buildings, with bright lights illuminating the desert and multiple vehicles surrounded by a tall razor-wire fence.

Abdul remembered a piece of information given when he first started his mission. It was about the desert hideout of Zaid Arkour. A place called The Pit, but he dismissed it because there was no confirmed location, only rumors.

The passengers were unloaded and taken to a building away from the rest of the complex. Abdul observed everything he could, thinking of ways to plan his escape from hell.

Makeshift beds lined the interior of the empty building, but no one would be sleeping tonight. They would be thinking about the nightmare yet to come. 

Before sunlight, everybody received a wake-up call from a blaring bullhorn.

"Line up! Men on the right, women on the left! Let's go! Now! Now! Now!" the voice said.

The lines formed quickly, then guards led them in opposite directions. The men marched into the mountains, the women into another building. 

"The rules are simple. You will work a twelve-hour shift, with two 15 minute breaks. If you cause trouble, you will pay dearly. Stop at the cave entrance for your shackles and tools."

"Tools? Tools for what?" a man asked.

"Tools for mining gold!" the guard answered. "The more you find, the better we treat you."

Abdul knew that all means of escape would be at night, unshackled, not in The Pit. The men worked their fingers to the bone with pick-axes and shovels. Jackhammers rattled on, deeper in the mine. A man next to Abdul sifted the shovels of rock and dirt. Turning away from the guard, he tried to shove something into his pants. A guard saw the movement, charged towards the man. 

With no questions, the guard shot the man, dropping him instantly, then a few gold flakes fell out of the leg of his pants. Then the gold flakes were picked up by the guard. 

"Clean that up! I don't want him stinking up the whole damn mine."

The work continued till sundown, and they marched down the mountain. Abdul noticed that two tanker trucks were coming into the compound. He had to act tonight, using those tankers as a diversion to steal a vehicle and get a signal for his cell phone.

Sneaking out is the easy part. Getting a vehicle and lighting up the tankers without getting caught was more difficult. Silently moving across the outside wall of the building, avoiding the sleeping people, he peaked out the door, moving towards the fence. Seeing no guards, he moved on through the darkness. He needed to get to the guard post at the gate. It was the most likely place to find a key. 

Avoiding the lights, Abdul moved to the side of one of the tankers and took the fuel nozzle out, attaching a string to the handle to keep the gasoline flowing. Taking out a rag and stepping away, he struck a match, tossing the rag onto the fuel, igniting the desert sky. As the guards came out of the guard post, sliding in and saw a wall with keychains on it. Sticking a handful in his pocket, he pressed the button to open the gate, he started pressing keyfobs hoping to get a hit. Seeing a set of headlights blink, he bolted for them. Jumping into the car, he started it and slammed the accelerator, bringing light to the darkness of The Pit.