Red Wolf
****
“This is a country of contradiction; the super rich and ultra poor. The palaces are many and big, really big. The poor huddle together on the streets lucky to find enough scraps to feed their families. There are the service workers, servants, and whatnot, but their salary is barely enough to scrape by hand to mouth,” Logan explained as he drove out of the airport parking lot onto the main highway.
Boone and Delilah looked down the road in front of them towards the high-rise buildings of the city and then behind them. The sand covered road was practically deserted. “There are more cars in Red Mountain and the population there is barely three thousand people,” Boone muttered thinking about the small town he and Delilah lived near.
Logan turned to Boone. He did not need to worry about hitting another vehicle or vice versa. “Very few people outside the royal family own cars. The country got rich from petroleum, built roads and you could bore yourself to death sitting on the curb waiting for a car to drive by.” Logan tried to find humor in his proclamation, but even he had a hard time finding it funny.
“The royal family of the oil era was large in its own right. The original king during the OPEC era had a dozen sons and many daughters with over half a dozen wives. They all married and had children. Each child has their own palaces. Omar and Oman are twin grandsons of the king. They live with their parents in their palace. None of the grandchildren have their own palace. How sad,” Logan sneered sarcastically still trying to find some levity to lighten the mood. Boone and Delilah stayed silent taking in every word, looking ahead to the city ahead of them.
“While Muslim law allows up to four wives, each grandson has been limited to only two. Some have divorced a wife or two to bring a new and younger wife into the fold. The younger girls, some as young as fourteen were bought, yes bought, from the girl's father. The divorced girls often end up on the street abandoned left to beg or turn to prostitution. Many of these girls are in really bad shape when they are kicked to the curb. I cannot even describe their injuries." Logan had to pause while he regained his composure. "Women are still suppressed. They are second-class citizens at best. And that is only if they have money; their husband's or father's money, that is."
"While the family’s wealth will last another hundred years or so, they are cutting back and trying to save a buck or two. Alternative energy vehicles have put a strain on the purse strings. However, Granddad is quite liberal with the money needed to buy young blonde virgins. He is a sick bastard.” The thought of Lucy’s would-be demise made Logan shudder. He knew how many of the wives were treated. He had to force down the bile which was threatening to enter his throat.
“Plus outside blood waters down the gene pool. The cousins have a tendency to inbreed,” Logan added as an explanation for the royal family buying or kidnapping young virgins.
Boone knew he needed to change the subject of conversation. “So who does this car belong to?” he asked.
“It belongs to a few buddies and me. I hooked up with a couple guys who do personal protection for the president of the country’s bank. We keep a vehicle at the airport for emergency purposes. The prince’s car is tracked so we could not use it. I drove it to the airport when we left, and it is where it will stay.”
“But won’t the king know you are back in the country and without the prince?” Delilah asked. “I am sure he has loyal subjects working for him at the airport.”
“Fake passport,” Logan smiled and glanced back at Delilah through the rear view mirror.
“It seems I am not the only one with connections,” Delilah mused returning the smile. "My friends at the FBI and ICE are going to hold Oman as long as they can and ignore the diplomatic immunity treaties. It will give a day or three."
Logan’s persona turned serious again. “Pull down the back seat Delilah. We need to get you covered. I know you can take care of yourself, but there is no need to advertise that you are from out of town. There is a bag with a full robe and burqa. It is a full-face burqa except for the eyes. I hope the robe is long enough. You are taller than most females here.”
“I anticipated the need to hide myself. I brought a long plain sleeveless black cotton dress I can wear underneath. It will cover all of me.”
Logan smiled again. He was amazed at how Delilah thought. She was always prepared. “We have about ten minutes before we hit the city. We will abandon the car and walk the rest of the way. My buddies will retrieve it for us. I have a small place on the outskirts of town. I knew someday I would need a place to hide if another war or rebellion raised its ugly head. We will be safe there while we plan our next step.”
Delilah unzipped her travel duffle and pulled out the long black dress she had packed. It was a thin, simple cotton dress free of ornamentation and free-flowing. She slipped it over her jeans and then removed her jeans; rolling them she placed them into the duffle. She pulled the dress up to her bosom. “Eyes front,” she told Logan and Boone while she removed her t-shirt and finished donning the dress. With the road being deserted she had no fear of being seen by anyone else. Removing the hair tie from her wrist, she combed her long dark hair back with her fingers and secured her silky hair into a single ponytail. She then pulled the dark one piece burqa over her head. “I am going to lose ten pounds of water weight in the next ten minutes,” Delilah complained and sneered. “It is hotter than hell in this god awful getup.”
“The burqa is designed to remove any sexuality. It is supposed to hide a female and prevent any lustful, sinful thoughts about her,” Logan explained, knowing the local customs.
“Does it work?” Delilah asked with a facetious tone.
“No,” Logan laughed. “Men are going to have lustful thoughts about a woman regardless of how she is dressed. Sometimes I think the burqa makes it is worse. You see a pair of smoky dark, mysterious eyes peeking out of the burqa, and the mind starts imagining all sorts of things and none of them chaste. And those pale icy blue eyes of yours are going to cause all kinds of thoughts.”
“It is a good thing I brought some dark colored contacts,” Delilah laughed. “I will put them in once we reach your safe house.”
As soon as they reach the city, Logan took the first left and followed the road for several miles. He pulled into a parking lot of a once opulent hotel. The parking lot had few vehicles. Logan found a spot surrounded by other cars in hopes of blending in and parked. “Grab your bags. We will walk from here.”
Boone grabbed his bag and Delilah’s. Out of habit, he took her hand into his. “No touching,” Logan snapped. “Muslim law prohibits public displays of affection. And Delilah, keep your eyes towards the ground and walk at least two paces behind us.”
“Oh hell no!” Boone and Delilah sneered simultaneously.
“It is for her protection. Contrary to what the rest of the world is led to believe, stoning for adultery is still commonly accepted and practiced here,” Logan reminded them. “The two of you are not married.”
Boone released Delilah’s hand and stepped back. “I love you, Dee.”
Delilah stared into Boone’s emerald green eyes. “I love you too, Boone. But you owe me for this,” Delilah told him. Boone did not reply. He knew they had taken the assignment to find Lucy because of his guilt-ridden feelings surrounding the death of his sister Star.
“The two of us will stand out enough as it is. Me not as much with my dark hair and olive complexion but you Boone will stick out like a leprechaun on Valentine’s Day.”
Boone knew Logan was right. His pale skin, lightly peppered with an occasional freckle and strawberry blonde hair screamed ‘outsider.' There were few European Americans in the country. Boone hoped there were enough outsiders in the country for the locals not to stare or remember his face. But he knew it would be easier for him to escape the country, if need be, than for Delilah. Being a wolf, he could outrun any human if he turned wolf and run through the mountains t
o the neighboring country.
The three walked away from Logan’s vehicle and towards the back of the hotel. Passing the hotel, they entered a retail area. Numerous clothing and curio shops lined both sides of the streets. “For the tourists,” Logan explained, noticing Delilah's confused expression.
“Do many people come here on vacation?” Boone asked seeing a fair amount of tourists shopping.
“You would be surprised. Most come just to see the palaces. The opulence and gaucheness of the royal wealth have been a tourist attraction for over half a century.”
After several blocks, Logan turned down what appeared to be an alley. Three story buildings closed in around the dark but hot walkway. Delilah gasped at the stench which seemed to emanate from the ground and the bricks of the buildings. “What is that vile smell?” Delilah gagged. Even through the burqa, she had to cover her nose and mouth to keep from vomiting.
“Everything,” Logan nearly chuckled. “Garbage, urine, blood, death, you name it. Just hold your breath as long as you can. We will be there in about five minutes.”
Leaving the alley, Logan led Boone and Delilah into what appeared to be a courtyard surrounded by two and three story buildings with outer hallways. Clothes, rugs and other pieces of fabric hung over the railings and on makeshift clotheslines. Improvised awnings of all sizes and colors dotted the courtyard in a vain attempt to be shielded from the murderous sun and heat. Women in full burqas squatted beside wash tubs of plastic or metal washing clothes by hand. Delilah shuddered and fought the urge to cry. Nothing has changed here at all, she thought silently seeing women still living as they had for hundreds of years. There had been no progress for them, no civil right changes; no equality. Delilah clenched her teeth and jaws together, exhaling hard to keep from screaming. She was outraged.
Logan reached the steps to one of the buildings and looked back at Delilah, who was frozen where she stood. Boone could read Delilah’s thoughts. Delilah had intentionally lowered her telepathic barrier. Boone knew Delilah was three point two seconds from kicking every visible man in the balls and telling the women to flee. Dee! Boone yelled telepathically. Delilah blinked coming out of her self-induced trance. She looked up at Boone and walked towards him and Logan.
Delilah followed Logan and Boone up the stairs and down the hall. Logan stopped in front on the fourth door and pulled a key from under his shirt. Unlocking the door, the three entered.
The room was small and dark. The dankness indicated the room had been closed for a long time. The air was hot and stale. Logan opened the window in an attempt to allow some fresh air into the room. He walked into the doorless bathroom and opened a small electrical box. Flipping a switch, a small ceiling fan in the main room started twirling and a low wattage bulb illuminated.
Delilah looked around. There were only one room and a small bathroom. A small square wooden table and four wooden chairs sat in the back corner. A small faded and worn brown upholstered couch lined one wall. A pillow and thin cotton sheet stacked at the end showed it doubled as a bed. A small counter sat along the last wall. It was covered with dark green tile and blackened grout. A small single metal sink sat in the center. A 20th-century hot plate and a couple of pans sat to the left of the sink. A small dish rack with a few plates and cups hung from the wall. None of the dishes or cups matched each other. All were in assorted sizes and colors as if collected one piece at a time like discarded trash rescued and brought home.
“Sorry, it is just the bare basics,” Logan sighed apologetically. “I will get word to my buddies, and we can start making our plans. Try to relax and stay cool. I will send for some water and food. The temperature will drop a little once the sun goes down.”
“Can I take this thing off?” Delilah whined pulling the fabric the burqa away from her body. “I feel like I am about to pass out. How do these women do it?”
“It is all they know,” Logan shrugged. “I stopped trying to figure it out a long time ago.”
“So can I take it off?” Delilah asked again almost begging.
Logan hesitated and then nodded. “Just stay away from the window.”
“Good. Because I am sweating in places, I did not know I had,” Delilah sneered. Delilah's memories had taken her back to her childhood when she was forced to wear layers of clothing. She knew the discomfort of living before air-conditioning, and she hated it. Had she been back home, she would have stripped to her panties and bra and thrown a shirt over them. But she wasn't, so Delilah grabbed her jeans and t-shirt out of her duffle and went into the bathroom.
Delilah pulled the thick plastic black curtain across the curtain rod to give herself a smidgen of privacy. Moving as far away from the bathroom entrance as she could, she removed the burqa and then attempted to cool down by splashing her face and arms with some cold water. But the temperature outside being over 100 degrees and nearly 120 degrees inside the apartment, the supposed cold water felt slightly cooler than room temperature. Giving up, Delilah pulled on her jeans and shirt and slinked back into the main room. Looking around she realized there was nowhere to hide from the open window. She walked to the door and with her back to it, she slid to the floor. With her elbows on her bent legs, she held her face in her hands. She had been in the country for a little over an hour, and she was ready to leave. But she knew she could not leave without Lucy. Silently she prayed for a quick and safe rescue. She wanted to leave the country as soon as possible.
Delilah could hear someone nearing the door; the sound of sandals shuffling along the concrete walkway. She nearly jumped as she saw a young arm come through the window holding a bag with several bottles of water. Logan moved to the window and thanked the young boy of about eleven. The boy held out another two more bags, and Logan took them with a smile and slipped some of the local currency into the boy’s hand.
Logan passed out the bottles of water first. They were still cold, with condensation dripping off the plastic. Delilah opened hers and drank half of it in one sip. “Slow down Delilah. Don’t make yourself sick by drinking too fast,” Logan admonished.
“But I want to drink it while it is cold,” she nearly cried. “It is hot as hell in here.”
“I got us some food and a special surprise for Delilah,” Logan winked as if he had a secret he was anxious to share. Logan walked to the table and placed the bag with food on the table. Then he opened the last bag. He reached in and pulled out a lightweight, light colored scarf. “You can wear this around your head and the lower part of your face. No more burqa.”
“And I can stop hiding in the corner behind the door like a fugitive?” Delilah mused thinking of all the times she was the one hunting the fugitive. Now she felt like the hunted. She did not take pleasure in the feeling.
“Just sit with your back to the window while we eat and then wrap up while you move around the room, and you will be fine,” Logan smiled.
Delilah jumped up like a little girl on Christmas morning. “Oh thank you, Logan,” she squealed with glee. Delilah covered her hair with the scarf and sat at the table with her back to the door. “What is for dinner?”
Logan pulled several to go containers out of the bag and placed one in front of each of them. “Styrofoam?” Delilah gasped. “I thought this stuff was outlawed.”
“Maybe in the U.S. but not here,” Logan mused with a chuckling shrug. “I hope you like what I ordered.”
Boone and Delilah opened the styrofoam containers and stared. “It is shawarma and tabouli,” Logan explained.
“It is what and what?” Boone grimaced as the strong smell of spices entered his senses.
“Shawarma is usually chicken or lamb, in this case, chicken, wrapped in a pita or flatbread with tomatoes, garlic sauce, and pickle. It is one of my favorites. Tabouli is a mixture of parsley, bulgur, mint, tomato, scallions with olive oil, herbs, spices and a little lemon juice. You may have seen it in specialty stores sold as a dip. I u
sually eat it on lettuce. It is quite good.”
“It smells good,” Delilah agreed as she smelled the cinnamon in the Tabouli. “I am sure I have eaten worse.”
“After dinner, I will get one of the women to help us get you some summer pants and a long tunic. It will be more comfortable than the burqa and easier to move around in. We do not need you tripping on the burqa when we snatch Lucy.”
“Aren’t you afraid of being ratted on?” Boone asked. He was concerned one of the locals in the courtyard would tell someone they were there.
“It is just my sister and her husband coming for a visit,” Logan suggested. “No harm, no foul.”
“Then why all the secrecy?” Delilah asked.
“I am just trying to protect your identity. While western women can walk around in western clothing, I do not want to put you in any danger. If we keep you cloaked, no one will know who you are. If something goes wrong, but it won’t, again no one will be able to trace who you are. Regardless of the outcome, no one will know to look for you here. I have been in this country for over four years. I have seen things I wish I had never seen. It is not all luxurious palaces and fancy shopping malls. I am confident we will get Lucy. But I am not kidding myself for one single minute this is going to be a cakewalk. Something will go wrong, and we will need a contingency for every step in our plan. Keeping your identity a secret is our first contingency. The men being caught is one thing, you getting captured is an entirely different story. I have seen how they torture their enemies. It ain’t pretty. And the way they treat a woman is worse.”
“I can hold my own,” Delilah sneered. She hated anyone thinking of her as the weaker sex. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
Logan glanced at Boone for backup. But Boone knew better. He had seen Delilah in action. He had seen what her talons could do. Boone treasured his family jewels. And he was hoping to use them soon. He still had hopes of having a family.
Boone shrugged with his eyes wide open and shook his head from side to side. He put up his hands, palms forward, and refused to say a word.
“I am sure you do,” Logan admitted to Delilah. “I know you are not afraid of fire, bodyguards or wild animals. But these guys are all three rolled into one.”
“I am still not afraid,” Delilah asserted.
“You should be,” Logan sneered as he shook his own head and went back to eating.
After dinner, Logan called for one of the local women who lived in the building. With Delilah’s scarf securely covering her face and her icy blue eyes disguised brown under dark colored contacts, the older woman of about sixty entered the room. “We need pants and a long tunic for my sister,” Logan told the woman. “In black.”
“It will be hard,” the woman replied. “She is tall like you.”
“I need it tonight, two sets. Both in black,” Logan insisted. “Do what you need to do. We will pay extra.”
The woman nodded and walked around Delilah twice memorizing every feature and curve. “Very tall woman,” the older woman sighed as she left.
“It may take a few hours,” Logan told Delilah and Boone. “Once she returns with the clothes, we will head out to meet my friends. They will be quite helpful. One is ex-special forces. The other was a Navy Seal. They have resources we will need to get into the palace.”
“What type of resources are we talking about?” Boone asked.
“It will not be easy getting into the palace,” Logan started. “We have to get onto the grounds and then into the palace.”
“What issues will we have on the grounds?”
“We will need to go in at night. The dogs will be on patrol on the ground. Guards will be on the walls with automatic weapons.”
“Do you know where Lucy is being kept?” Delilah chimed in.
“Yes, but she is well guarded. A young blonde virgin is worth her weight in gold in this country,” Logan reminded her.
“So we need to get past the dogs, the machine guns, and the bodyguards and then back out?” Boone asked.
“And lay low until we can get back to the airfield and out of the country. But I have a few friends who will help smuggle us out. We just need to get Lucy across the border and onto a private jet.”
“We have a plane on standby,” Delilah reminded Logan. “They will be ready to fly us to safety.”