Ok, guys. Here I am. Another chapter uploaded. I've to apologize for my mistake. As you know, I'm not a native English language and, again, I'm trying to translate my story by myself. No one corrected it. So, please, lemme know if something is not clear. I'm waiting for your reviews. I really need 'em to continue my story.
Chapter 14
When Calder hung up, the office of Joan fell silent. Annie was alive and she was fine, but she could be dumb. Maybe it was a consequence of the attack suffered by the convoy with which she was traveling. Or was it just a cover? Joan was so absorbed by her thoughts that she didn't hear a knock.
"Joan, are you alright?" Auggie's voice brought her at present.
"Auggie. Yes, all right. I just talked to Calder. His task force came together only a few hours ago. Operatives who were already at Taoudenni updated him about the Intel we've sent them this morning. They are organizing a meeting for tomorrow morning with the chief of the Berber tribe that the two young activists belong."
"Joan ..." Auggie interrupted.
"Yes, Calder saw Annie but he's not been able to speak. She's fine."
Auggie nodded and smiled, a smile so warm and alive that warmed Joan's heart. He left Joan's office, went to his desk and took up his things. Barber looked at him and, for the first time since Auggie was back in Washington, he saw him serene.
"Are you ok, man?"
"Yes, Eric. It's all right. I need to get out and walk a little. I think I will go home."
"See you tomorrow."
Walking in the park around Langley, Auggie seemed to breathe easier. Autumn was stripping the trees, a light drizzle was falling and the air was heavy with moisture. It was quite cold as October drew to a close. But Auggie did not notice the cold and the rain. He felt his heart full of emotions but light at the same time. Annie was fine and soon, one way or another, she'd come back in Washington. And this thought took him up to his place, warming his soul. It was not much, but at the moment it was enough.
Calder organized the meeting with the tribal chief, planning everything in the best way because nothing could go wrong. He didn't know the man, nor knew whether or not he was involved in the trafficking of his sons, so he had to be ready for any possibility. Ethan had already headed for the Berber camp to ask to speak with Abu-Mokhammed; He was ushered into a room in a low building with whitewashed brick. The floor was covered with carpets, on which were placed cushions and low stools. Immediately after Ethan, the tribal chief and some men came in the room.
"Was-salam'alaykum" Ethan said, speaking to Abu-Mokhammed.
"Wa Alaikum As-salam" Abu-Mokhammed answered "You have asked to speak to me. How can I help you?"
"A few days ago you talked to a my travel companion."
"Yes, the American journalist."
"There is another my travel companion who would like to talk to you, if you grant."
"You were just three until yesterday. This evening I saw that you were more."
"Yes, Abu-Mokhammed. The other people with whom you have seen us, are colleagues, they have joined us today." Ethan noticed that the Berber chief did not use many words and he decided to do the same. If he wanted to get information he had to be honest.
"So you all are American journalists?"
"Not all of us, actually."
"Is it about politics?"
"Not exactly. One of the men who joined us is our leader." Ethan looked around. Abu-Mokhammed nodded to men who accompanied him and they went out.
"Now you can speak freely, American" Berber man said.
"We are journalists working for an US Government Agency. We need to give you and ask you some informations about the attack in Timbuktu, two months ago."
"Government Agency?" The Berber chief asked.
"Yes. In that attack some Americans died. Our government has sent us to investigate."
"Now I understand all your questions and your way of acting. I have my informers." Abu-Mokhammed smiled to Ethan "I'll meet your commander."
Ethan nodded, left the room and went to call Calder.
"Was-salam'alaykum" Calder said, going into the Abu-Mohammed seating.
"Wa Alykum As-slam," the Berber chief answered.
"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice."
"My house is your house. How can I help?"
"Two months ago, an American convoy was attacked by guerrillas jihadists in Timbuktu. It was a convoy of humanitarian aid."
"That's not what I know, my friend. Some of our sources have told us that your convoy was carrying weapons."
Calder also noted that the Berber chief was direct and spoke without beating about words.
"Well." he thought "it will be easier if I can ask direct questions."
At that moment Dassin and Khennuj came in carrying tea and simple pastries for guests.
"Can I speak openly and frankly, Abu-Mokhammed?" Calder asked.
"I beg you. You can ask directly what you want to know, and if I can, I'll tell you everything I know."
"So you know that the convoy was carrying weapons. Do you know for whom?"
"My men have told me that weapons were directed to the French militias."
"What happened to those weapons?"
"I do not know. When my tribe arrived on the scene of the attack, there were no weapons in the wreckage of the convoy. We took the survivors to the hospital of Doctors Without Borders center instance in Timbuktu."
"Yes, I have heard and I thank you. Only two of the six wounded that you have brought to the field hospita,l survived. One of them is American. He will return to the United States tomorrow."
"I'm sorry for others." the Berber said. His voice was really sorry.
"There were other survivors?"
"Why do you ask?" Dassin intervened.
"I know that you have with you a Western woman." Calder said gently, "She could be American. Our government has sent us to recover all our countrymen." Dassin and Khennuj exchanged glances and left. Men, left alone, took tea and then started talking again.
"We have received information about a man who traffics weapons." Ethan said to the head Berber "he is a former KGB agent. He calls himself Samuel Garrett, but his real name is Dimitri Diachkov."
"Our sources have sent us pictures while he's dealing with Berber men, perhaps they belong to your tribe" added Calder.
"I do not know anything about it" Abu-Mokhammed said "Do you know who they are? Can I see these pictures?"
Ethan handed him an envelope. Abu-Mokhammed took out the photos and he was very surprised to see that portrayed his sons.
"No photomontages, right?" he asked facing Calder in a worried voice.
"No. I know you know these two guys."
"Yes. They're my sons."
"I'm sorry you have known so directly about their involvement in this guerrilla warfare."
"So you are here on behalf of the US government." the Berber chief said. Calder and Ethan nodded. "FBI? CIA? Some other government agency?"
"CIA" confirmed Calder.
"And the woman of whom you asked me?"
"What can you tell me about her?" Calder asked.
"You answer a question with another question, American." said the tribal chief "I cannot tell you much, actually. She was found by the daughter of Khennuj and Ghumer, a pair of good people. She was dying and she has not memory of her past. Khennuj took care of her and, with my wife Dassin, helped her to look like a Berber woman. Among some tribes of our people there are still forms of slavery and a Western woman is a rare commodity in these parts..." concluded Abu-Mokhammed, suggesting what fate would befall her if she had been kidnapped.
"They told me she is dumb." Ethan said.
"So it may seem. Actually, she speaks several languages." the Berber said, smiling "Now, tell me why do you ask about her?"
"We have to bring her back to the United States." said Calder.
"You still evade my question. I have been honest with you ..."
"The fact is that we're not sure why she is here, in Africa. She's been for some years a CIA agent, now we know she works for an agency that provided security services and international armed escorts. Her head is the American man who has survived among those you brought to the DWB's hospital."
In that moment Dassin and Khennuj came back followed by a third woman: she was Jedjiga. They began to pick up the trays with empty cups when Jedjiga found herself in front of Calder Michaels.
The woman was petrified and the tray fell from her hands. It was him, the man of her dream, the one who shot her in that elevator. So he was real. He was not just a dream, a figment of her imagination. That man really existed. A strangled scream came from her throat, before she fainted.