Kill Them Wherever You Find Them (45 page)

"Yes, please. For a few days . . . " again
speaking to Hala she finished the sentence, "when you in new
hotel."

Days later, black eye settled down to just a
dark crescent moon below his eye that was now fully open, Jeff
thanked his gracious hosts as he climbed into the taxi. He found
that he really enjoyed his time with them, kind and gracious as
were all peoples of the Middle East. Hospitality was the Golden
Rule, rising from a time that survival in the deserts depended on
shared kindness, especially that shown to a traveler.

Settling into his new hotel room, much nicer
than the previous at about the same rental rate, Jeff reflected on
his encounter with Hala's parents. Though communication was
limited, it was sufficient to get to know them and many of their
extended family who lived nearby.

They insisted that he stay with them while
conducting his business. He was able to help them to understand
that he felt himself a burden and was happy to stay in a hotel.

That evening Jeff went to a local market and
bought enough food for the family as a way of saying thanks, and
repaying them for the delicious foods Dina made - foods he was
certain weren't everyday fare. They accepted the food with
gratitude, inviting him to dinner. A meal he, in turn, accepted
with gratitude.

Though the language barrier had in no way
eased the last few days, their communication somehow improved -
gestures and facial expressions now familiar to all. Laughter and
ease replaced the initial concern and doubt which accompanied the
beat-up face that first appeared at their door. Dina's
ministrations healed all but the bruises that were destined to
linger a while longer.

Returning to his hotel room, filled by yet
another fine meal, Jeff pondered his predicament. This was a fairly
nice neighborhood, upper-middle class perhaps. His hotel was just
blocks from the house where he had just broken bread with Abd's
great-grandparents. While not poor, they were certainly in no
position to simply pack and move, as was the family of Ghasem's
grandfather. He could think of no way in the world to keep Hala
from meeting the man she would marry.

Near dawn, Jeff was awakened to the furious
clanging of what sounded to be large hand bells used in his own
grandparents' days, calling children back to where they belonged
for class to begin, or for a meal at the family table. Cutting
through the fog of a great night's sleep, he mused as to what it
could be, having never heard it since his
landing
in this
era.

Fog lifting with the view of a column of
smoke blown at a gentle angle by the morning breeze, Stauffenberg
understood that the clanging bells were replaced by the wail of
hank-cranked sirens atop firefighting trucks, much as the
electronic sirens of his time.

Haze of sleep completely lifted now, Jeff
realized with a start that the smoke that could be seen from the
view offered by his window was coming from the direction of Hala's
home. Fear as he would have known had it been a threat to his own
family's safety and home, seemed to constrict his throat and speed
the pace of his heart.

Throwing on his clothing, he rushed toward
the crowded block of their residence, adrenaline increasing as it
became obvious it was, in very fact, the house of Hala and her
family.

Running the length of the final block he was
relieved to see Hala and her parents standing unscathed outside,
baby brother held tightly to his mom's bosom. They were watching
the remnants of their house burn while the firemen hand-pumped
bursts of water onto the two homes on either side - one already
showing the first flames licking the nearest side wall.

"How can this be happening?" Jeff wondered,
knowing family records and photos showed Abd living in this very
home with Hala and her husband until he was almost seven years of
age.

He recalled the "Stick in a River" theory of
time he heard bantered about the facility where he was stationed.
His very presence, the time he spent with this family, must have
proven somehow a stick large enough to cause a ripple that changed
the timeline here, with Abd's ancestors the center of that ripple.
How widely it would spread, what the outcome was, he had no
idea.

"Oh, Mr. Jeef!" Dina, holding her baby in her
arms, turned to their new friend with tears pouring down her
cheeks. These were tears of gratitude that nobody was harmed,
mingled with tears for the loss of their home and possessions. Jeff
knew that among those possessions were the photographs of Hala at
this age, photographs by whom he positively identified her.

The remains of their home would continue to
send up smoke and wisps of steam for yet a while as the firemen
pumped water on it and surrounding homes, assuring no further
danger to neighbors. Later that night, Karim would return to the
scene, picking out whatever personal items and valuables he could
find, hidden from flames and vandals alike.

Observing the family stand there, staring,
saying nothing, Jeff accepted this as an opportunity to not only
help them but to also complete his mission.

When he was sent back into this time frame,
he carried with him enough cash, in both Persian and Egyptian
currencies, to purchase a small office building as a front to
complete his cover story, if needed. Such a purchase was required
neither in Persia nor, as of yet, in Egypt.

With Hala interpreting, Jeff asked the family
to come to his hotel with him.

At the reception desk, he rented a large
room, paying a week in advance. Karim and Dina both objected,
though not strenuously.

After Dina nursed her baby in the privacy of
their hotel room, they joined Jeff in his. Translating was slow,
and very difficult, but in time he was able to relay his intentions
---

"Thank you, Jeef." Dina smiled, in the weary
way one would expect, having faced a tragedy, then living under the
charity of another.

"You have been my friend. I am your friend. I
am happy to help."

Karim, seeming somehow embarrassed by the
situation interjected, "You are good. Brother live here, we live
with him."

"Home small, but good."

"I have an idea." Pointing to his head,
tapping it for them to understand this was a concept, he continued,
"I want to buy a farm." Making sounds of a cow and clicking noises
of chickens, the family looked even more confused as if their
friend had, in that instant, lost his mind.

"Farm. You know." Jeff went through the
motions of digging, planting, and watering a plant. "My farm, you
work." Pointing to Karim, he somehow managed to put across the idea
that Karim would be the farmer. A slow smile on his face indicated
a growing understanding. He rapidly spoke to Dina who also smiled,
albeit hesitantly.

"How?"

Jeff opened one of the suitcases he pulled
from under the bed and unlocked it, removing a large, brown paper
bag from the suitcase. All members of the family, save the baby
boy, watched with eyes bulged wide open and mouths agape, as he
removed bundles of cash.

The Great Depression which engulfed the
world, affected Egypt as well, especially urban areas such as
Cairo. People had a tendency to keep cash stashed away in hiding
places rather than deposit their money in banks. Cash itself didn't
have the value it once had, being worth just a fraction of
pre-Depression times, but it did still carry some weight. The
amount that this stranger-friend had in his hands could still
purchase a nice plot of land in the more outlaying areas.

Offering money to Karim, Jeff said, "Go. Eat.
Clothing for family." Gesturing his mouth and fingering his
clothing to make his point.

"No, no, not you money!"

"Yes, please. Work together." Jeff took
Karim's hand, shook it in a way that Karim understood his meaning
as indicating full partners.

A considerable amount of time was required to
get the family to accept the money and send them on their way. Jeff
exited the hotel with them, asking the man at the reception desk
where a Land Agent might be located.

"Hello, do you speak English?" The office
near a pricey area of downtown Cairo was nicely appointed without
being flamboyant. The business was successful; from all outward
appearances this was good.

"Yes, I do. My name is Abdelaziz, how may I
help you?"

Jeff explained to the agent his interest in
purchasing an already-established farm, with a family-sized
home."

"A few weeks ago, we were informed of a farm
for sale near Khawr Al Qibli."

"Where is Khawr Al Qibli located?"

Abdelaziz pulled out a shelf of maps,
retrieved one, pointing to the spot. Several hundred kilometers due
south-southeast of Cairo, it was ideal. A small population, the
family wouldn't be socially isolated; so far away from Cairo they
would have a difficult time visiting the city.

Jeff remembered that with a brother and his
family living in Cairo, he still had a problem. Karim would want to
visit relatives in the city, providing Hala opportunity to meet a
husband and stay there.

"Are any other farms for sale in the same
area with two homes on the property?"

"Just one, it was in operation until a couple
of years ago. The economy has been difficult on our farmers, and
there has been flooding in the area. Not so much in recent years
but a large flood a few years ago wiped out the fortunes of many. A
small dam was constructed to contain flooding. A larger dam, a
little further down, was in the planning stages. There is some
water damage to one of the residences and a couple of other
buildings on the site but all buildings are structurally sound.
With a little cleaning, both houses and the other structures would
be perfectly suitable for habitation, both human and animal. This
particular farm was used for livestock and crops."

After discussing more details for about an
hour, Jeff and the real estate agent parted company.

Yet another taxi snapped his head in various
directions, as it sped toward its destination. Jeff felt this to be
the ideal solution though remained uncertain of Karim and how it
would be received by his family.

Borrowing the map from the agent, Jeff took
the elevator up to the floor where the family's room was located.
Knocking on the door, a smiling Karim bid him enter and be
comfortable.

Well into the evening they discussed via
broken English, and a kind of sign language, the plans. For Jeff
this was an investment. Karim and his family were to keep what they
needed for living expenses, reinvesting profits back into the farm.
He then asked about Karim's brother, he would like to make a
similar arrangement with him, if possible. Having both families
live on, and work the large farm together, was a guarantee to
success.

Karim said he would talk with his brother,
giving him an answer in the morning.

~ ~ ~

Three days later Abdelaziz took Jeff, Karim,
and his brother Khalid, to see the expansive farm. The real estate
agent was jovial the entire trip down, a trip of several hours in
his car that seemed to exacerbate the bumps and multiply the clouds
of dust as it passed over dirt roads. From the conversation in the
car, the real estate agent felt certain that the sale was a fait
accompli.

Abdelaziz was not only an excellent agent,
but a great translator. As well as his native tongue, he was fluent
in English and French. From him Jeff learned that the brothers
spent a great deal of time on their maternal grandfather's farm,
apparently their happiest childhood memories centered on that
farm.

Hard work was nothing new to these men.
Equally strong bodies and work ethic, they were eager to get out of
the city where day labor was difficult to find. They were also
pleased that their children could breathe fresh air and play, as
children ought.

Continuing to share their story, Jeff learned
that their grandfather and father both died within a month of one
another. Their mother, bereaved and unable to run a farm on her own
while raising two young boys sold it and moved to Cairo, where they
lived ever since. Both had talked about leaving the city but
circumstances never allowed for such a move.

Finally reaching the first destination, both
men talked excitedly, pointing at this and that. Jeff knew in a
modern-day used car sales lot they would be easy marks, with
salesmen practically tripping over one another to be the one to
make such a simple and lucrative sale.

The farm, it turned out, was in pretty good
condition. The machinery was old but still operable. The homes and
other structures were solid, made to last with a craftsmanship
rarely seen anymore. To say that there was some water damage, and
that they would need to do a little cleaning, was an
understatement. With enough elbow grease to renovate them properly
the structures were otherwise in better condition than Jeff
expected. Water was irrigated and freely available. The soil was
rich, having remained uncultivated for a few years was a
benefit.

The best part was that the asking price for
the farm was lowered to a level that would be termed a
steal
in his time, more than likely in this time, too.

Returning to Cairo, Jeff treating everybody
to dinner on the way, all four men were happy with their new
perspective fortune. Allah, one explained, smiled on them.

Setting a date two days later to go back to
the agent's office, they returned to the hotel by taxi. The
following day Karim and Jeff went to the local bank to open a joint
account, a branch of the more solid national banks that had so far
weathered the financial storm.

~ ~ ~

The bank teller followed bank regulations by
calling the manager of the branch over. Handling this much cash
required his presence.

Once the requisite signature cards were
co-signed by each man, they went to the office of a barrister who
came highly recommended by the bank manager. The lawyer spoke
excellent British-style English, having received some of his
education in Oxford. His office reflected his Anglophile tastes,
right down to the tea and crumpets.