Abigail – The Avenging Agent: The agent appears again (16 page)

Wherever she turned, she saw pensions
and guest houses and wondered at the wisdom of her dispatchers.  The place was
buzzing with tourists and foreigners, so her presence aroused no interest and
not even a shadow of suspicion.

Around her, in every direction, the
Tatra Mountains rose with their enormous trees and densely vegetated slopes. 
The view was breathtakingly beautiful.  Abigail wanted to reach the mountains
and estimated that it was a long way.  She considered using the light rail she
had arrived on when at that moment a train came and solved her dilemma.

After a fast ride on the light rail, she
disembarked and looked up in amazement at the mountain.  Groups of tourists
gather around and she wondered whether to join one.  She noticed that the women
in one of the groups uncovered their hair, wore T-shirts and pants and decided
to join them.  She approached the group and heard the tall guide speaking in
English peppered with words in Persian.  He glanced at her and she returned his
glance and asked him a question in Persian:

“May I?” Then she turned her hand up and
asked: “How much?”

He signaled twice with his fingers
spread out and added in Persian:

“Later.”

When he raised his arm as a signal to
follow him, Abigail joined the group.

They reached the nearby cable-car
station.  Two open awaiting the visitors filled up within a few minutes.  The
doors shut and both cars began to ascend slowly up the huge mountains.  Below them
were spectacular slopes and the vegetation varied with the changing altitude. 
Cries of wonder greeted the falls sighted below them as the water rushed and
bubbled furiously and broke the sun’s rays into flashes of purple and orange
rainbow hues.  Clouds of mist swirled around the falling water and evaporated.

The cars stopped their ascent and the
doors opened, revealing a path, and the guide led them along it.  The trail wound
up the mountain to a village that was so beautiful it took Abigail’s breath
away.  It appeared to have been taken from a large painting.

It was already noon when they reached
the shore of the lake and the people were tired of walking in the heat for over
an hour.  There, the guide asked them to separate into groups and handed out
bottles of liquid refreshment and packages of food.
 
Someone pointed to the high slopes in the distance and yelled:

“Hey, look at them!  We’re riding cable
cars and walking and they’re rope-climbing.”

They could see people, tied to gigantic
rocks with ropes, who were climbing up the high slopes.

“They are climbing to the Chatot's dwellers,"
explained the guide, "You can see that they are carrying backpacks with
food and drink.  Without them, the Catot's dwellers would have no food.”

When they returned to the pension that
evening, she was thoroughly exhausted from the effort of walking and climbing
up the mountain trail had made her ravenous. She entered the dining hall, sat
at the same table she had occupied that morning and after looking at the other
tables, decided to order fish.  She beckoned to the waiter, who arrived and
stood stiffly beside her, and asked her ceremoniously:

“What fish would Madam like?”

“What do you recommend, Sir?”

“Trout, of course.”

The waiter brought her a large silvery
fish and proudly announced:

“It was freshly caught today in the icy
springs of the region.”

Abigail was amused because he spoke as
if he had caught the fish himself.  As she ate it, she felt lucky that the food
served here was to her taste, until she met up with the local soup, cooked with
beef and sour cabbage.  She turned up her nose at it and pushed the plate away
to the center of the table.

As she left the dining room, Abigail
passed by the counter and the quick glance from the man with the mustache, caught
her attention.  She had already learned that his name was Emir and had spoken
to him in the morning, but the way he looked at her gave her a strange
feeling.  She stopped at the counter, but he moved away from her. 
Interestingly, the color of the stone in her ring darkened.

For the present, she did not attach any
importance to the tiny turquoise star tattoo on the back of his hand. She
didn’t yet know that it was the mark of the ‘Kaukab’ (star) group, a murderous
organization, operating throughout the Iranian State.

“Sir, I report that the young fellow is
here, Sir!”

Col. Edward, Bill’s commander, had heard
about Karma from Jalal, from the time he had worked at Hamis’ tavern.

“Good, how does he strike you?”

“Well, the fellow is motivated, crazy
for action, and easy to influence.  He’s like clay in a sculptor’s hand.”

“Is that so?”

“I think we should exploit every second
of his excitement.  The only problem is that he insists on bringing his dog
which, by the way, is named Abdul.  That is, the dog, of course.”

“What?  Abdul?  I suggest you get on a
plane, rather than sail.  If you ask me, I have no problem if he brings his
Kurdish dog.”

In the two days that followed, the two
became firm friends and when they embarked on the plane, Karma felt so close to
Bill that he allowed himself to tell him his dreams.

“I fantasize about enlisting in the
Kurdish Movement and becoming one of its courageous freedom fighters.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, and I imagine them sending me back
to the mountains and fighting like a genuine Kurd.”

“So, what’s stopping you from remaining
here with them?”

“No, not them! I’m talking about the
organization that is training in the Nevada Desert.”

His honey-colored eyes sparkled as he
whispered to Bill:

“I heard that the members of that group
have no chance of fighting in my country because they are persecuted and
murdered there.”

Bill burst out laughing and exclaimed:

“Well, you must know of an organization
that I know nothing about?  What is its name?”

“Mujahedin-e-Khalq,” Karma whispered and
Bill stared at him and shut up.

He could help recalling similar periods
in his own adolescence, but he was sure the youngster was mistaken in his
dreams and was fantasizing on the basis of rumors.

“How can you be sure?  Where did you get
the idea that they are training with us in the USA?”

Karma decided to keep his silence.  He
did not want to disclose his conversation with Dugar, the little man, who
frequented Hamis’ tavern.  He also did not wish to talk about the exploits of
the organization about which Dugar had read to him from the newspaper cutting.

White clouds were visible through the
plane window.  Karma stared at them and trembled with excitement.  It all
looked too good to be true.  So much so, that he feared to find out in the end that
something really wasn’t real.  He closed his eyes and shifted his thoughts to
Nana Kahit, whose presence was always in his soul.

He would often turn his thoughts to her
and strengthen himself with the memories she had enriched him with.  Yesterday
he had imagined that she was the one who sent the giant wave that knocked Jalal
down on the deck of the boat.  Today, on the plane, he could almost feel her presence
beside him.  He decided that she was also accompanying him to his current
destination, to the USA, of course.  He was uncertain so, he asked Bill.

“Are we on our way to them?  To the Mujahedin-e-Khalq? 

Bill shrugged his shoulders because he
really didn’t know where the youngster was being sent. He also did not believe
the things Karma told him so, he responded:

“I’m not sure.”

Karma’s mouth drooped in disappointment
and, he heard Bill say.

“I was trained for a long time before I
was allowed to join the armed forces,” but received no response from Karma. 
They both grew silent until they disembarked.

Two soldiers accompanied them to a jeep
and neither of them spoke.  Karma held his breath when he saw them and he
didn’t dare start a conversation with them.  He looked at the unfamiliar
landscape they were passing through and turned his face toward the wind.  They
drove for more than an hour and his heart beat hard all the time and his chest
hurt.  It was difficult for him to grasp how things were developing and remain
calm.  He touched the seat beneath him and the door of the speeding vehicle and
told himself that it was all real.

The vehicle drove into sandy terrain and
raised a cloud of dust as it sped ahead. In front of them were a group of houses
surrounded by fences then turned into a paved path and stopped in front of a
long building.

They got out of the car.  The soldiers
entered the room and one of them instructed him to stay outside the room.  A
uniformed guard remained near Karma and stared at Abdul, who crouched at his
master’s feet and waited.

Bill joined the soldiers, saluted when
he entered.  He understood they had been waiting for him and his mouth dropped
open in amazement when he saw a three-star general facing him.  He stood up
again and saluted him, tensely standing to attention.  Jim returned his salute
and smiled.  Bill looked at the two other officers and said, half-jokingly:

I have left someone outside, who was
brought here on the wings of his dreams.  The youngster is obsessed by
fantasies.”

“Fantasies?”

“Yes, what would you say if I told you
that he speaks of joining an organization that is training here, in the Nevada
desert?”

He laughed out loud and was puzzled when
no one joined him. On the contrary, their expression was serious and Jim, the
general, turned to him.

“Tell me exactly what else the youngster
that you brought here said.”

“Ah, he said that people from the “Mujahedin”
organization are trained here, with us.  He also knows that they are being sent
from here to fight the Iranians.”

“Hmm…” Qassem mumbled.  No one else
noticed how his heart was racing with excitement because, he had himself been
through the training Bill was talking about now.

“Listen, gentlemen,” Bill continued,
“the young man talks of secret meetings between fighters, about military plans
he heard and saw.  He tells of people, who returned from the skirmishes and he
says he also knows of others, who were killed in action.”

“Really?!”  Liam interrupted him with
his hoarse voice, “What are we waiting for?! If that’s true, then we have the
best possible evidence today!

A black beard covered Liam’s face.  A
small scar across the breadth of his cheeks created a kind of indent that gave
him a menacing expression, even though he had never fired a weapon or been
considered a combat soldier.
  He was a computer expert and his
main business was cyber terror.

“So where is he, can we talk to him?” he
asked enthusiastically.

It was close to sunset and the last rays
of the waning day penetrated the wooden slats of the blinds casting long lines
of light in the room.  When the door opened, diagonal strips of light shone on
a tall, impressive youth, who stood at the entrance.  To everyone’s surprise, Qassem
rose to embrace him, holding him close to his heart, almost crying, and Karma
was embarrassed.  He stared at the bearded man and suddenly pushed his forearm
toward him and they shook hands exactly as he had seen the men greet one
another in Hamis’ tavern.  He crossed fingers with him and they brought their
forearms together till they touched elbows.

“Brother,” Qassem murmured. “Where did
you come from?  Speak, tell us.”

He led Karma to a chair and sat down
beside him as if they were alone in the room.

Bill poured water into some glasses and
proffered one to Karma.  He raised his glass and toasted him as one would with
wine:

“Long live the men from the
battlefield!”

Karma was amazed.  He stared at the
people, saw the symbols of rank on Jim’s shoulders but, did not understand that
he was looking at the insignia of the Chief of Intelligence of the USA Army. 
It didn’t occur to him that this Commander had set aside the day especially to
meet someone who had witnessed and seen the battlefield itself, and to hear
about it from such a source.

Qassem introduced the men to Karma,
mentioning their role but, clearly, Karma was not yet at ease and did not
understand the essence of this meeting.

Jim turned to him with a fatherly smile
and asked him to speak.

“About what?” Karma asked and stared
into the shining eyes of the men, who were so eager to hear what he had to say.

“Whatever you like,” Jim replied.

Qassem noticed the expression on the
youth’s face and tried to put him at ease.  He nodded to Jim and spoke to Karma
with restraint:

“Why not start by telling us something
about yourself?  Where were you born, who were your parents and where did you
live?”

A smile spread on Karma’s lips and
illuminated his face.  He related hesitantly how, as an infant, he was
extricated from the fingers of his dead mother in the killing fields, and he
laughed when he saw how they looked at him.  Then, he told them about the tent-dwellers
in the Turkish Mountains and the ice-cold water of the river that flowed
through the arid lands.  He gazed dreamily up in the air when he told them how
he swam each morning with the children and caught fish for them with his bare
hands.  Then he fell silent. Suddenly, beloved Nana Kahit was conjured up in
his memory and here, the flow of his narrative stopped.

“Yes, but how did you get to the Kurdish
rebels?” Qassem asked impatiently.

“Wait; let him tell us in his way.” Liam
interceded.

Karma glanced at Qassem and smiled.  It
pleased him to realize how much Qassem wanted to hear about the lives of the
Kurds and he noticed how thirstily he gulped down the story of the river and
the fish.  Commander Jim also understood this and said:

Hey, Qassem, calm down and control
yourself.  You can meet him and hear about his childhood some other time.  Let
him tell us the more salient facts for now.”

Karma, lowered his eyes, surprised and
gratified at the interest he was arousing, without yet understanding what it
was they were expecting him to say.

“I lived at Hamis’ tavern.” Karma began.

Yes, yes,” said Qassem, aroused.

“I remember people came there to attend
meetings in the back room of the tavern and Hamis told me he lost two brothers
in the war against the Turkish army.”

There was silence.  He noticed the sun’s
rays shortening and growing dimmer and was aroused from his reverie by Liam’s
voice.

“Do you recall any of the people’s
names?” Liam inquired.

“Names?  Why names?” Karma was puzzled.             

“If we get to meet them, we will be able
to offer our help.”

“What do you mean?  How could you meet
them?”

“Leave it to me, kid.  I am also convinced
that they will agree to accept our help in their war against the army.  Believe
me.  Don’t you think they need equipment, weapons and financial backing there?”

Karma noticed Qassem’s nod.  He had a unique
connection to him and trusted only him.

“Ah, Okay.  Well, there is Hamis, who
plans the activities and allows them to meet at his tavern.  Then, there is Abdurobin,
who told me about Yisrail (Israel) and the ‘Mossad.'”

Jim glanced quickly at Bill and hurried
to add:

“Yes, and who else?”

“Dugar, who is a war hero and…”

“Dugar?” Qassem woke up. “Tell me, that
man, he’s like a little kid, short and thin, right?”

Karma was surprised. 

“Do you know him?”

“No, but I’ve heard of him.  He’s a real
scoundrel!” Qassem said and turned to the others.  “They say that little man
knows no fear.  He exploits his diminutive size and squeezes himself into
hidden places and… wow, the stories they tell of him,” he waved his hand in
excitement, but Jim turned to Karma.

“Did you manage to hear what those
people discussed, there in the back room?”

“I tried, but I couldn’t understand what
they said.”

“Did you get the impression that they were
having success?” was Liam’s question.

“No, not at all.  Many do not return and…”

“Wait.  Why did you leave them so
suddenly?”  Jim asked and leaned forward with his arms on the table.

“Because they refused to let me join in,
they treated me like a child and… and when I suddenly saw that Hamis was
weeping…”

“Hamis cried?  When?”

“He wept before I left the place.  Two
days earlier, people arrived with packages.  I realized they were preparing to
set out on a mission…” and Jim interrupted him.

“Packages?  What did they contain?”

“I don’t know.  They were wrapped in
paper.  Perhaps weapons or bombs, I’m not sure.”

The three stared at him very intently,
waiting for his words of response.  The sun had set and it was growing darker.
Karma’s eyes were moist and his voice broke as he said.

“The following evening, Hamis wept.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“No, he didn’t want to share with me.”