Project Sabertooth

and took a left to go up a flight of stairs. You ever realize how houses with old people have that funny smell, sort of like stuffy, mildew filled air? No matter how much they open the windows for fresh air, the smell must permeate from the walls. It must be comparable to walking in one of those tombs in an Egyptian pyramid. So we're going up the stairs to his apartment, and I had this odor in my nose and mouth like nobody here had any pretense to take baths. Not as bad as the locker room smell after a good football game, but damn close! It seemed a little strange because Gunéy never smelled like that when he's in the restaurant. By the time we walked into the living room I was hoping this conversation would go quick. He said something to his wife who was busy in the kitchen and then told me to sit on the couch with the table in front of us. I started to glance around and was surprised that a Turkish house would be so modern! In one corner was a normal computer, but the HD wide screen monitor told of just how good the inside workings were in that old beat-up computer! Sitting on top of the computer table next to the monitor, was a notebook of the newest generation with the little Windows i7 sticker on the round front under the touch pad. The other corner was a conglomeration of high tech machinery which consisted of a seemingly brand new Blue-Ray player, a digital satellite receiver with the extra card for encoded special pay-per-view television programs, and towering above it all was one of the new 4K flat screen TV's. A veritable monster of the television species set into the corner so the whole room could watch, regardless of where one stood. The third corner and the floor were the only parts that I would propose to be part of a normal Turkish apartment. The corner had one of those glass vitrine which fit perfectly into the corner. Inside was a cornucopia of old pictures from the homeland, some antique glasses and vases, and sitting all alone on the bottom glass shelf was the Quran. One whole glass shelf for one book! Oh Well, it's their living room! On the floor by the staircase was a well worn Persian rug, but the rest of the floor was covered in a plush carpet hand made with all sorts of different designs. It looked like a carpet which told of a family history or something.

  I had sort of lost myself in looking around and when I realized that some amount of time had passed, I turned to look at Gunéy. He had this funny smile on his face when he spoke up saying; “ I hope you like living room my friend. You look very careful at all my household. “I'm sort of in shock that you're room is so full of electronics, and such good quality!” I replied looking around at the corners. “You think we make bread on stones up here? We be cavemen?” He retorted and started laughing. “To others, I am only dumb Kebab seller. But Gunéy have learned electronics, computers and programming, and I see many things in this world other people not see!” That was when his wife brought us two of the new improved Lahmacun, setting them in front of us with two napkins and a bowl of water for our fingers. Gunéy said something to his wife and she made as if to slap him in the face! “Did I just see that right or what?” I asked sort of perplexed. “I thought that in your religion the wife was always obedient, and not make as if to jack-slap you!” He laughed and said; “She is modern Muslim woman. She believe we have same rights. “Wife go shopping, so eat and after we man talk.”

  I was very hesitant to try the first bite of the Turkish pizza, but I soon realized it was something totally different to the one I had previously tried. Soon I was down to only one piece left on the plate, and said; “Damn this is good!” Gunéy smiled while wiping the hamburger and garlic sauce off of his lips and then commented; “You tell truth because you eat like pig! You say thank you to my wife, she try always different things!” When we had both finished, we sat there for a moment in silence. Then he began to speak in German, in which he anyways was more affluent than English. “You come to me wanting a favor and I think I pretty much know what you wish from me. I know you want to get your revenge for what happened at the train station, but that man is no longer in Germany. I know you and how you t think, so I asked around with my people, and all say he went back home. Praise Allah! “But you don't know the whole story about why I would seek him out, to dispose of him.” I answered solemnly. “My friend, I feel you have a lot more problems in your heart than you let me to believe. Talk to me, and I will see if I can be of any help.” So I opened up and told him about my diagnosis and my thoughts of cleansing Germany of some of the dirt bags which shouldn't be here in the first place!

  When I had finally finished reciting the whole story, including my wishful plan to do something useful with what little time I had left on the face of the earth, it was getting towards dusk. “So now you know the whole thing.” I said. “And you can probably guess what kind of favor I need from you.”

  “You need me to put my ears to the street and see if I can locate some of your, for lack of a better word, shall we call them your “Prey?” He asked. “Yes”, I answered. “That is basically what I need! Some kind of leads to get me to those who I'm searching for. I figured with you speaking all these useful languages, especially Arabic, and I have nobody else who could give me the information I need!” He sat there for awhile just looking at the remains of his Lahmacun. Then he quickly stood up and announced; “I must go down to the restaurant to relieve my son. Maybe he thinks I have gone for good!” Laughing he led me back down the stairs, and before he turned to walk into the kitchen, he turned back to me. Again in his broken English, so all could hear, he said; “I say not no. I say not yes, or even maybe. You come tomorrow night and eat Lahmacun with me?” “As good as it taste, I might even pass on my Kebab and eat two of them!” I quipped. He laughed as he turned to go into the kitchen and said: “You eat like pig!”

  The next morning I slept long, (and why not? I'm retired!). Waking up and getting the coffee machine going, I started to turn to take a look into the refrigerator. And that was when one of those cramps just came from the backbone, made its way forward and spread all over my stomach region. Now, I have been in lots of fights before where I took massive hits to the abdominal area, and during close combat training, many a roundhouse kick to the gut and chest areas. But this cramp totally immobilized me. I couldn't move, even to fall to the floor! And the area by my bladder felt like it was held in a vice grip from the Terminator. I wanted to look up to see the clock next to the cupboard above the little kitchen sink, because the doctor had asked how long the cramps lasted, but as I tried to turn, the cramp let me know just who was the boss at the moment. I stared down at the floor expecting to let my urine flow freely down the legs of my pants at any moment. The thought occurred to me that if I did wet my pants, then thankfully I live alone with nobody to observe me acting like some poorly trained dog. As I laughed out loud at the absurd idea, the cramp reminded me that laughing is something I really shouldn't do at the present moment. I fell first to my knees, and then on my face, embracing the soothing blackness which had enveloped over me. And as I started to dream, my mind reeled backwards to an earlier time of my life.

  1981

  I was sent here to train the NATO soldiers how to set up explosives onto trees to create a giant Abatis which would impede vehicles, and especially Tanks, from passing a road. They were learning to make bombs like the terrorist out of C4, Acetone mixed with Hydrogen Peroxide and a handful of ball bearings, old screws, or whatever one had at hand. My job was to teach them all the tricks of the trade. Every morning we had a competition where each country had to construct an inconspicuous bomb, to teach them that the terrorist are, contrary to popular belief, very ingenious to make do with what they happen to have on hand. The ways to conceal a bomb in plain site is one of their golden points of intelligibility. We seen tons of ideas, and each day the winning country got a round of beer from me at the Officers club later on. But they played the ultimate joke on me one day! I walked into the tent and greeted them, telling them to take their seats. As I walked around to the field desk to get started with the routine, I seen that somebody had lost their wallet next to the desk. Naturally, I picked it up and opened it up to check for identification, and as I opened it up, an el
ectronic peizo speaker played `Happy Birthday to you`! A note was glued on the inside which stated; “Dead men can't buy beer!” Everybody was laughing it up, for the teacher got taught! Inside of the wallet where the money should be was 100 grams of clay which simulated C4, embedded with small ball bearings. Greed is sometimes deadly! “Now that is original” I said laughing along with them.

  2009

  I woke up on the kitchen floor and a smile came on my face. Those were damn good times, training with the troops and sopping it up in the evenings. I slowly got up and looked at the coffee machine. While it was just finished with perking and steam was coming from the filter, I knew I wasn't out but for a few minutes. But I now knew that I had to give in and go get a prescription for the cramps, after bravely telling the doctor that a little pain never hurt me! I had to be cramp free in case I had the chance to accomplish something.

  The rain started pelting me as soon as I left the apartment house so I ducked under the small roof in front of the Bar which