Page 6 of Sands of Sirocco
“About the same.”Noah took another bite, the taste heavenly.He chewed and swallowed, trying to pace himself.As the Ottoman Turks had fled Gaza and the surrounding villages, they’d left every sign of an army in full retreat.Buildings reduced to rubble.Piles of ammunition, wagons.Smoking vehicles.Dead animals.More pitiable had been the animals abandoned alive and still attached to heavy loads.
The looting had been as horrific.Bedouin and locals had trampled the wounded Turkish soldiers in their efforts to get to the supplies left behind.And the dead women and children …
Noah drew a sharp breath, then studied Fahad’s profile.“But the government has promised to keep the fighting outside the city.Keep the holy places from harm.”
Fahad’s lips twitched.“The holy places which they plan to give to the Zionists?”
Noah grimaced, a heavy feeling growing in his heart.For years, he and Fahad had discussed this, with Noah assuring him the British had no intention of coming in and building nations.The Balfour Declaration, issued just weeks earlier, had changed everything.All his local allies and contacts had been regarding him with worry, wanting a clarification of the new promises the British government had pledged in their support of the Zionists, who wanted to make a homeland in the Levant.
If they only knew about other secret deals that had the potential to erode their trust altogether.The government had promised to help make Sherif Hussein a leader and king among a group of tribal nations with little in common.They’d also promised the French some of the same lands they’d pledged to Hussein, who was still being deluded about their honesty by T.E.Lawrence.
That the Cairo Intelligence Bureau had sent him here to learn about the oil concessions in the area told Noah they had another aim that might trump all those promises: securing oil fields in the interests of Britain.
He eyed Fahad and swallowed another bite.“Nothing is decided.”
“When our options are the Zionists or Bin Hussein, it appears a great deal has been decided.”Fahad sighed.“I don’t blame you,ahky.You might do better in charge than those men, but you’re one of us.”Fahad put a hand on his shoulder, his grip strong.“I’m certain your mother would be proud.”
Noah’s throat thickened.He met Fahad’s gaze and gave a small, thankful nod.
Fahad released his shoulder.“Eat.You have little time.”
They continued in silence, the heaviness of their conversation weighing in the space between them.When he’d enlisted, none of Noah’s loyalties had felt divided.Britain, king, and country.And it was the army that had wanted him to be here, to live and breathe and become what he was now.
Yet, what he was now was a liar.A killer.Someone willing to look his friends in the eye and tell them what they wanted to hear rather than the truth.Just like the sycophant diplomats in Cairo.“The great thing about you Brits,”Jack had said the last time they were together,“is that you do a swell job of making everyone feel heard.Which is a problem when you’re not listening to anyone but yourselves.”
A problem indeed.Noah didn’t even know if there was an official position on any of it.But the British government had certainly put a target on the backs of men like himself, who they commissioned to make promises he couldn’t keep.
The rows of cactus hedge and rocky walls soon gave way to dark and narrow stone streets.An occasional cedar or olive tree rose among the buildings, but with the rain and darkness, it was hard to see much.As they passed through the gap in the wall near the Jaffa Gate, Fahad slowed.
Noah tensed.A Turkish guard stopped them, and Fahad handed travel papers over to him.The guard scanned them, then thrust them back into the window.He hurried back to his cover, away from the rain.
Noah released a breath as he waved them through.One more reason to be thankful for the storm.
When the car stopped, Noah met Fahad’s awaiting gaze.“Thank you.As always.And give my regards to Nasira.”
Fahad wagged a finger.“One more thing.”He handed Noah a gun, which Noah recognized as the Mauser parabellum the Turkish officers carried.Fahad held his hand out, palm up.
Noah removed his own service pistol and traded the Turkish gun for it.Fahad always worried about those details.If Noah was stopped and searched, his British-issue weapon would give him away.Noah had even lost a pistol that way, forced to dispose of it before they could search him.Still, he preferred a gun he’d had a prior opportunity to fire.
He left Fahad and went back into the rain, darting through an alleyway.When he looked back, Fahad had already pulled away, his car lights off.Even though their time together had been brief, seeing Fahad had been good for him and erased some anxious thoughts clawing in the back of his mind.
Noah sidled up to a doorway on a stone building and rapped sharply.The door opened a minute later.Jack Darby stood behind a crack in the entrance, the yellow glow of electric light behind him.Jack eyed him, then opened the door fully, ushering him through.“I thought you might not show up.”
The door closed behind Noah.Jack wore a similar outfit to his, and his dark beard had fully grown in—it seemed wild, in fact.Had it only been a month since they’d last seen each other?Noah tipped a smile at him.“When have I ever failed to appear when I said I would?”
Jack didn’t comment, going toward a window high enough from the ground that even a man as tall as Jack—over six feet—had to stand on his toes to see out of.Raindrops battered the window, running in rivulets down the pane.Thunder trembled in the distance.“Not a great night for going out, but it’ll have to do.How was Fahad?”
“He seemed well enough.Frustrated.”Noah rubbed his hands together, his skin still cold, grateful that Jack had a fire going in the small room.The cramped space featured only a makeshift bed on the floor and a rickety table with two chairs.No running water.A chamber pot was in the corner, under the washstand.Hard to imagine someone with as much money as Jack had accumulated over the years would live like this for an extended period.
Jack came back from the window.“We’re all frustrated.It’s high time this damned war ended already.”He sat in one chair, inviting Noah to take the other.
As a seasoned cryptographer, Jack’s services weren’t likely something the army wanted to let go of—even with America having joined the war.Jack had confessed to Noah he’d been tempted to ask his government to help him get out of his commitments to the British.But with the Americans, Jack would probably end up in France.Jack’s knowledge of the languages in this region—both present-day and ancient—were more useful here.
Noah went to the fireplace instead, to ease the chill.He’d found nothing but a hot bath could dispel the cold that came from being wet and miserable for an extended period—but that wouldn’t be a possibility tonight, of course.The fire helped.He checked his watch.They had only minutes before they’d need to be on their way.
Jack observed him in silence.“You look better than the last time I saw you.Not so thin.”He cocked his head.“Maybe even less tormented?”
Noah met Jack’s dark-brown eyes.They’d been friends for too long for Jack not to inquire, and the last time they’d seen each other, Jack had made him promise.“I saw her.”
