Morning came far too early. Ian opened his eyes, squinting at the filtered
sunlight pouring into the tent. Soft snoring told him that Mobius and
Lukin were still asleep. He reached for his jacket, which he'd hung neatly
before going to sleep, and took the photo of Sara Pezzini from the breast
pocket. He studied her features, the close-up picture of her face,
allowing him to see just how green her eyes were. He took in the dark
sweep of her lashes following the curve of her high cheekbones, the
slightly pouty lips, her soft looking skin free of any cosmetics. A hint
of a smile crossed his own face as he thought that he must thank her
someday for bringing him luck. She would never know exactly what he meant,
but he would and that is what mattered. What a beautiful woman. Irons had
told him that this was most likely the next true wielder of the Witchblade,
the ancient sentient weapon that Irons was in possession of, and Ian could
easily see why the blade would choose this woman. Irons had also told him
that he would have the task of watching over her, making sure that she used
the Witchblade after it had chosen her, and making sure no harm came to her
until she learned to wield it. Ian sighed. That was still several years
away though, according to the book of prophecies that resided in Irons'
mansion. He sat up and carefully put the photo away inside the red leather
book in his footlocker where he kept the other photos of her. There were
too many things that demanded immediate attention for him to be spending
time in contemplation of Sara.
He stood and peered out the door, confirming his suspicions. The sandstorm had subsided and bright sunlight bathed the encampment, making visible the damage that the wind and sand had done during the night. Other units were already moving around, the sounds of morning PT could be heard from a distance. Ian groaned softly. This was going to be a day of backbreaking work, plain and simple. He got his desert BDU from his footlocker and slid into it. Rubbing a hand across his face he detected a shave was in order and took out his shaving kit and removed the offending whiskers. He packed away his black fatigues away before nudging Mobius' shoulder gently. "Wake up."
Mobius opened his eyes and sat up, "Morning already?" He stretched, coaxing life back into his massive frame before beginning to get dressed.
Ian nodded and then nudged Lukin. Alexei muttered something under his breath and then slowly woke up, looking around in confusion a moment before realizing the circumstances in which he had come to sleep in Ian and Mobius' tent. "Oh joy. Morning." He listened intently for a moment. "Sandstorm's over. Great. We get to dig out today. Let me go back to sleep. Tell the Cap I died or something."
"No such luck. Get your ass up." Ian prodded Alexei with his boot, smiling all the while. "Come on, time to get to the BCOC for duty assignments."
"Like we don't know what it's going to be. Move this sand over there to that pile of sand. Good. Now move that sand there to this patch of sand over here." Alexei grumbled, his boyish features taking on a look of disgust.
Ian laughed, "Well perhaps if we hurry, it won't be move that sand out of that latrine."
"Good point." Lukin struggled to his feet and yawned groggily, rubbing his eyes. He rummaged through his pack and changed clothes. "Wish we had time for a shower."
Mid-day found Ian and Mobius shoveling sand and filling sand bags near the BCOC. Ian had gone to check on Preston before beginning their assignment and had been able to visit with him briefly. Now, as they shoveled, the pair discussed Preston's condition.
"Did they say how long he'll be out of commission?" Mobius asked, a questioning look on his face.
Ian shook his head as he bent and scooped up yet another shovel full of sand with his entrenching tool. "No, but I bet he gets a few days R&R once he's released."
"How long since you've had R&R?" Mobius held open a bag for Ian to put sand in.
Ian paused and frowned. "I haven't." He spit sand and grit out of his mouth.
"Maybe we should both request some soon then. I'll ask Captain Keane if we can each get a three day pass." He closed the bag and hefted the heavy bag easily atop the growing stack before picking up another.
They worked without speaking for a while, until Mobius spotted a helicopter coming onto the flight line. He motioned to Ian and Ian looked up just in time to see Ramirez and Keane leading Cynthia Roberts to the waiting craft.
"You ever figure out where you know her from?" Mobius asked in a low voice.
Ian shook his head. "Not yet, but I will." Ian removed his canteen from his belt and opened it, letting a long swallow of orange Kool-Aid flow down his throat clearing away the dust and grit. He passed the canteen to Mobius, who accepted it gratefully.
"She's 31, so she's a little older than you, maybe someone you knew growing up?"
Ian shook his head, "No, Irons saw to it I had very little interaction with other children." A frown marred his features.
Mobius dropped the subject realizing that causing Ian to talk about Irons would spoil his mood. He passed the canteen back after taking a deep cooling swallow.
They began working again, the hot desert sun beating down on their backs causing both men to sweat profusely as they toiled.
The helicopter lifted off, bright sunlight reflecting off the raw metal where the sand storm had worn away bits of black paint.
Ramirez walked past them on his way back into the BCOC, "Chow time boys." He motioned for them to head to the mess tent before continuing on his way.
Ian wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, inadvertently leaving a smear of dirt across his forehead. He leaned back stretching the long muscles of his back.
Mobius watched as Ian started to walk away, "Hey Nottingham, forgot your misery spoon!"
"Hmm? Oh!" Ian turned around and picked up his entrenching tool. "Food on the brain."
Mobius chuckled and clapped Ian on the back. "More like women on the brain. First you stare at those pictures Irons sends you and now you have the one that flew outta here a bit ago on your mind."
"It's not the same, I assure you," Ian shook his head. "Sara Pezzini is beautiful, good, smart, strong . . . "
Mobius interrupted, "You know all that from looking at a few pictures?"
"I do." Ian continued, his face solemn, "The woman that just left here a while ago, while not unattractive and probably very intelligent just does not possess the same qualities as Sara."
Mobius kicked a lump of sand aside with his foot and chuckled, "You got it bad, boy. Let's go eat."
Ian pushed a piece of meat that was supposed to be chicken around on his tray with his fork. The conversation going on around him was lost to him as his thoughts dwelled on the woman called Cynthia Roberts. He was certain he had seen her before, perhaps not by that name, but the face was etched in his memory. He had always had a good memory for faces and Cynthia Roberts' face, he was positive, he'd seen before. He tumbled the memory around in his mind, trying to associate names or places to the image of her. It had to have been in the States, of that he was convinced. He was fairly certain it had not been abroad while he had been receiving his education or training. He nudged the so-called chicken further across his tray.
"If you're not going to eat that . . . " Mobius directed his fork towards Ian's tray.
Ian locked the tines of his fork into Mobius', flicking the larger man's fork out of his hand and onto the table, "I'm going to eat it. I was just thinking."
Mobius laughed and retrieved the fork. "You should see if you can get a picture of her at the beach." Mobius winked.
Ian's face darkened as he scowled and stood abruptly pushing his tray away, "If you must know my thoughts were elsewhere. Do not speak of Sara in that manner." Ian strode out of the mess tent, slamming the door behind him.
Mobius stared after Ian a moment, then sighed, "Touchy, touchy." He speared Ian's uneaten chicken with his fork and then popped it in his mouth.
Ian sat on his cot sharpening his knife with a whetstone, his face still locked into a frown. Each pass of the knife across the stone caused a rasping sound, the metal gleaming in the early evening light. He paused and looked up as Mobius came in quietly.
"Look man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, I know how you feel about her." Mobius' hands were outstretched in a gesture of apology.
Ian nodded, but remained silent. The rhythmic hiss of the knife across the whetstone continued.
Mobius sat down on his bunk, opposite Ian. "Nottingham, look at me." He waited until Ian looked up, "You are like a brother to me, closer even. I really am sorry. I'm asking for your forgiveness." Mobius' expression was sincere, his apology genuine.
"I forgive you." The words came out quietly, honestly.
Mobius sat silently for a few moments, as if deep in thought. Finally he said, "I've never seen you this torn up, what's going on?"
"It's Cynthia Roberts. I know I know her, I just don't know where from and it's driving me nuts." Ian punctuated his words by scraping his knife across the whetstone.
"Sounds like it's more than just a misplaced face," Mobius prodded gently.
Ian sighed. "I can't explain it. It is something . . . something important, something I should recall." He frowned, his dark eyes flashing.
"It'll come to you. Just try to put it out of your mind, you're thinking too hard about it," Mobius offered.
Ian nodded, "You're right, of course."
"So how about writing home for a swimsuit pic?" Mobius grinned.
Ian growled and lobbed his pillow at Mobius.
Mobius laughed and held up his hands in surrender as the pillow hit him. "Just joking, man! Just joking!"
Ian smiled. "I know, I know. Actually I do need to write a thank you for the last package of Kool-aid and ask for some more cherry since -someone- won my last pack off of me." Ian got out some stationery and found a pen in the pocket of the fatigues folded neatly in his footlocker.
Mobius laughed, "Fair and square! Oh! I almost forgot, I got three day passes for us both. I felt bad about ticking you off so I went and asked Cap for 'em."
Ian's eyes widened and he paled visibly.
"What? It's just three day passes . . . "
Ian held the gold and blue enameled pen up for Mobius' inspection. Clearly engraved on the clip of the pen were the initials "K. I."
Mobius looked confused, "So it's Irons' pen, what's the big deal?"
"I picked this up at the mercenaries' compound, Moby."
Mobius let out a low whistle. "So you think maybe that is why you know Cynthia Roberts?" he asked quietly.
Ian thought for a moment, "It's got to be the answer. It would certainly explain how one of Irons' pens ended up in that compound."
"So what's her connection to him?" Mobius' eyes narrowed.
Ian turned the gold and blue enameled pen in his fingers as if it could provide the answers. "I'm not sure. I know he's had transactions with other governments before, but this just doesn't make sense."
Mobius was contemplative, rubbing his hand over his bald head, "Do you think maybe she was making a deal for Irons with those guys?"
"It's certainly possible." Ian stared at the pen.
"If that is the case, then why were we sent to retrieve her?"
Ian's eyes never left the pen as he replied, "Irons could have asked someone to order us to, I suppose."
"He's a civilian, Nottingham." Mobius frowned.
"He's a civilian with lots of people in his pockets. Listen, don't mention this to anyone. Not a soul. This needs to stay between just you and I . . . at least until I have time to think about it."
Mobius nodded. "On to more pleasant topics then . . . where do we want to go on R&R?" He smiled.
"Kuwait City? They've rebuilt a lot already." Enthusiasm filled Ian's voice.
"Sounds like a plan." Mobius grinned. "Let's go hit the showers and then go see Preston. We can get re-hydrated while we're there."
"Best idea you've had all day." Ian picked up a small bucket containing his toiletries. "The shower, not the getting pumped full of saline. I still hate needles." He gave Mobius a fake shudder and a grin. "I'll write that letter to Chef Tomas later."
"You'd better, gonna run out of Kool-aid soon," Mobius poked Ian in the arm with a forefinger, "and if you keep losing bets . . . " he let the sentence trail off with a sly grin on his face, gleaming white teeth shining.
After showering and getting re-dressed, Mobius and Ian made their way to the field hospital. They were both pleasantly surprised to find Preston sitting up, awake and aware.
"Hewitt!" Mobius called out in greeting.
Preston waved at his visitors, a smile crossing his face.
"How are you doing, Preston?" Ian asked, his face full of concern for his brother-at-arms. He pulled up a metal and plastic chair and sat down. Mobius followed suit.
Preston held up a small chalkboard on which he'd written the words, "Doing fine. How's Faris?"
"He's good, he was back on shovel duty today. Sandstorm nearly buried us. If I didn't know better I'd swear you got hit just to avoid digging."
Preston nodded and erased the small board before scrawling on it and holding it up again, "Cpt. Keane said we got the girl."
Ian nodded. "We did. She thought you were a total wimp for getting hit," he teased.
Preston held up the board again, this time it read, "Eat me."
Ian and Mobius laughed heartily. Ian shook his head, "No way Hewitt, Dragons are tough and stringy." He smiled. "Glad to see you're back to your old self."
Preston nodded, erasing and scribbling furiously for a moment. When he held up the board again it was a request for several computer-related books from his footlocker.
Mobius nodded, "I'll run by and get those for you after we get re-hydrated. We were digging sand during the hot part of the day and Nottingham there's been really testy from being out in the sun."
Preston held up the chalkboard again, aiming it away from Ian. Mobius laughed as he read, "When isn't he?"
"All right, pincushion time." Mobius stood, as did Ian. "You get healed up quick, Hewitt. Need that strong back of yours behind a shovel." He smiled.
Mobius and Ian took their leave of Preston and went to request saline IVs to replace fluids lost during the day. Since they had waited until after the dinner hour, no one was waiting ahead of them. They were taken back fairly quickly and given saline intravenously. As they were leaving, they encountered Samir Faris.
"How's it going Sam?" Mobius asked.
"Just going in to get this checked." Faris pointed to the bandage on his arm.
"Preston was asking about you a bit ago." Ian smiled.
"He's awake then?"
"And asking for computer books." Mobius laughed.
Faris grinned, "He's going to be fine." He waved to Mobius and Ian and wandered inside.
Mobius left Ian to go get Preston's books and Ian went back to his tent. Once he'd kicked off his boots and gotten settled in, reclining comfortably on his cot, he picked up the stationery he had put aside earlier in the day and began composing a letter.
Dearest Tomas,
I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to express my thanks for the package you sent and am in hopes that perhaps you might be able to send another. The weather here is miserably hot and the Kool-aid makes drinking the ungodly amounts of water we have to consume more bearable. I do so miss your culinary creations. The mess tent here is aptly named.
If you could see your way fit to send more books that would be appreciated as well. I have read and thoroughly enjoyed the ones you included with the last package.
Hector Mobius and I have acquired three day passes and I am in high hopes of visiting Kuwait City to see the rebuilding efforts being carried on there. I will bring you home a souvenir, I promise.
My love to you and your dear family.
Sincerely, Your Ian
Ian folded the letter and put it in an envelope before sitting it atop his footlocker. He picked up a book and began to read, falling asleep shortly thereafter with the book resting atop his chest, lightly rising and falling with his steady rhythmic breathing.
Mobius came in quietly and seeing Ian asleep, gently covered him with a light blanket before turning off the light and climbing into his own cot.
Bright morning sunlight shone down on the unit as they sang cadence while taking their morning run. Ian sang along, but his mind was on other matters. What type of deal had Kenneth Irons made with the mercenaries? An arms deal? How did Cynthia Roberts fit in? Was she Irons' emissary? She had been covered head to toe in flowing black garments when he had seen her, so he couldn't be certain, but he did not think she had been wearing the blade. Surely he would have sensed that. The blade would have activated to protect her as bullets had flown. No, she could not have been wearing the blade. The unit began the double time part of their run. Ian picked up speed with the rest of the unit, still thinking about the blade. Would Irons have promised Cynthia Roberts a chance to try on the blade? Possibly. The blade would view her as a pretender almost certainly. That did not mean that Cynthia would not remain close, possibly causing problems for Sara in the future. Dominique Boucher had been a pretender, but she remained in New York, a thorn in Irons' side at times. The more people aware of the Witchblade and its powers, the more potential difficulties for Sara when she assumed ownership of it.
The cool down part of the run began. Ian slowed, keeping pace with Mobius who ran beside him. Ian couldn't help but notice that Mobius was wearing a smile, despite the grueling run. When they were dismissed he asked him about it.
"Did you forget we've got R&R? Three days of a real bed, real showers, real food! Our ride will be here after lunch." Mobius looked so happy that Ian almost expected him to burst out into song.
"That's today?" Ian looked stunned.
"What? You forgot?"
"No, I didn't forget, you didn't tell me it was today!"
"Oh." Mobius looked chagrined. "Uh, hey Nottingham? R&R starts today," Mobius tried to keep a straight face.
Ian threw his hands up in frustration. "I can't believe you forgot to tell me."
Mobius laughed, "Well, come on, let's hit the showers."
Lunch was the normal fare, unidentifiable meat, something that was supposed to pass for green vegetables and bread you could play hockey with. Ian barely touched his food, lost in contemplation of the upcoming time away from military life. Mobius had already packed, unpacked and repacked twice. Ian had watched him with amusement while packing his own bag sparsely.
They left the mess tent after being on the receiving end of some good- natured teasing about being slackers and retrieved their bags. The wait for their ride wasn't long and the trip to the bus station was uneventful. Both had enough dinar on them to cover their fares. The hottest part of the day was upon them and the bus station was noisy and hot. They bought their tickets and waited outside under the shelter of a large awning. Local children surrounded them in a matter of minutes and questioned them in the manner of children world-wide. One asked to see their guns, another asked them if they had any candy on them. Mobius answered them rather gruffly, but Ian knelt and spoke to them, teasing them and smiling.
When their bus arrived they bade their small friends farewell and boarded. Mobius took the window seat, promising to switch places before the trip was over. All the windows on the bus were down, despite the sand that came flying in as they traveled, to provide ventilation since the old vehicle didn't have air-conditioning. Ian took a book from his bag and passed the time reading, attempting to ignore the man snoring loudly in the seat behind them. Mobius added to the snoring before long, the scenery failing to hold his attention. Ian chuckled inwardly. What had he expected to see? All there was along the road, other than the occasional broken down truck was sand, sand and more sand.
As Kuwait City came into sight, Ian nudged Mobius awake. He noticed some bombed out buildings, but the re-construction of the city was coming along nicely. The Kuwaitis, living in an oil-rich nation, had spared no expense in rebuilding their capital city to its former glory. They debarked from the bus and as it departed in a cloud of exhaust fumes, found themselves at a bus terminal much nicer than the one they had been at previously. Ian flagged down a cab and gave the driver instructions to take them to a bank before transporting them onward to a hotel.
Once at the bank, Ian accessed the Swiss bank account Irons set up for him and withdrew what he considered to be sufficient funds to spend on their break. The bank personnel were more than happy to help him with the conversion to Kuwaiti Dinar and recommend a good hotel. They assured him if there were anything else they could be of assistance with that they would be more than happy to help him. Ian smiled ruefully. Sometimes being associated with Kenneth Irons had its perks.
As he climbed back into the cab, Ian gave the name of the recommended hotel to the driver. Mobius looked at Ian oddly, but remained silent. When the hotel came into view and the taxi had stopped, Ian paid the driver and collected his bag. Mobius retrieved his duffel bag as well and waited until the cab had pulled away before speaking, "Are you sure this is where we want to stay?"
"Yes, is something wrong with it?" Ian looked at Mobius quizzically, a furrow forming between his eyebrows.
Mobius looked downward, scuffling his feet in the sand, "I don't think I can afford three days of this place."
Ian nudged his comrade and whispered conspiratorially, "You got us the passes, I've got the tab."
Mobius looked up and flashed an ultra white smile at a grinning Ian, "Well hot damn!"
The two soldiers walked up the pink marble steps leading into the hotel. The concierge cast a wary eye at them, but smiled a tight polite smile. Ian laughed inwardly and proceeded to inform the man in perfect Arabic that the bank had recommended this particular establishment. The concierge's attitude changed perceptibly and he was suddenly more than happy to find a suite for Ian and Mobius, telling them of the hotel's amenities and how they would find the fully equipped health club, the outdoor swimming pool and the electronic golf simulator to be the best available. He also told them of the hotel's available dining selections including exotic gourmet cuisine including International, Italian, Chinese, Lebanese and Iranian fare, attempting to impress them. Ian thanked the man and accepted two room keys, one of which he passed to Mobius.
The elevator ride was quick and soon Ian and Mobius found themselves in an opulent suite. They dropped their bags almost simultaneously. "Flip you to see who gets to go first?"
"Heads," Mobius nodded.
Ian laughed, "You would choose that." He flipped a coin in the air and deftly caught it. "Tails!"
Mobius grumbled, "Oh all right, I can't win every time I suppose."
Ian got out of his uniform quickly and dashed into the bathroom. The sight before him almost brought tears to his eyes. A huge marble tub, complete with a hand-held shower head sat directly in front of him. Large fluffy towels were piled high on a stainless steel rack and complimentary toiletries sat lined up neatly on the vanity. He quickly turned on the hot water fully and the cold just a bit. He sighed happily as the room filled with steam. He tried to remember how long it had been since he'd had a real bath rather than the pitiful showers at the Base Camp which barely spewed forth enough water to remove the sand from his skin. As the tub neared full, Ian sank down into the steaming water. He turned the faucet off with his feet, not wanting to sit up out of the water long enough to do it properly.
The hot water soothed away any tension that was built up in his body and the fragrant soap he'd found on the side of the tub gave off the scent of almonds as soon as he had unwrapped it. He scrubbed himself thoroughly and then found a tiny bottle of shampoo in the same scent as the soap. He lathered up his short hair, vowing to grow it longer as soon as his tour of duty was over. He didn't bother to shave, taking a vacation from the tiresome task. After rinsing his body with the hand-held shower, he drained the water from the tub and grabbed one of the huge fluffy towels and began to dry himself off vigorously. He wrapped the towel around his waist, tucking it in so it would stay and padded out of the bathroom. Mobius was sound asleep on one of the beds atop the covers. Ian woke him and merely pointed to the bathroom. Mobius was up and out of the room before Ian could get a word out. Ian laughed and stretched out on the other bed, delighting in the wonderful feeling of a real bed. Even the pillows and sheets were soft. He was asleep before the water in the bathroom came on a few moments later.
Ian walked among the trailing ivies and blooming flowers, the sea of green surrounding him almost maze-like. Everywhere he turned there was another colorful blossom. The delicious sweet fragrance of honeysuckle hung in the air, undertones of a more delicate rose scent beneath it. As he walked past a cherry tree, white petals showered down around him. A barely audible whisper reached his ears, "Ian. Ian, come here."
Ian turned in the direction of the sound, brushing up against a growth of forget-me-nots. There in the shade of a huge mimosa tree, its fuzzy pink and white blossoms giving off a sweet odor, sat a figure in the lush grass. Ian walked towards the woman and as she looked up he saw that it was Sara. His heart started to beat wildly and his throat began to feel dry.
"Nottingham, wake up!" Mobius shook Ian, "Nottingham! Rise and shine boy!"
Ian tried to brush Mobius away and return to the dream, "Gowaaaay."
"Nottingham, come on man, real food is waiting!" Mobius shook him again sending any remnants of the dream flying.
Ian sat up slowly, tears threatening to spill over his lashes. He rubbed his eyes quickly so that Mobius would not see. He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rising to a standing position. He got dressed quickly, donning the only civvy clothes he had, a pair of black slacks, a white long sleeve shirt and a black tie.
Mobius was already dressed, in jeans and a knit shirt, and ready to go. He noted Ian's apparel, "The restaurant here have a dress code or something?"
"They probably do, but this is the only civilian outfit I had to bring." He noticed the frown forming on his comrade's face, "We can go to one of the jamaiya and get some other clothes before dinner."
Mobius' Arabic wasn't as fluent as Ian's, "One of the . . . ?"
"One of the malls." Ian smiled, packing away the things he didn't need at the moment. When all was neat and tidy again, they left the room, locking the door behind them.
The architecture of Kuwait City was impressive. Ian and Mobius pointed out different buildings to each other as they traveled along on foot, both marveling at the spirals and spires mixed among the modern structures. They could see the tops of two large minaret-style storage tanks that held the city's supply of drinking water. They passed a mosque before they reached the first mall and Ian stopped long enough to admire the brightly colored mosaic adorning the low wall surrounding it.
The inside of the jamaiya was crowded and although most of the signs were in both Arabic and English, it was difficult to find the type of store they were searching for. At last, as they rounded a corner, they found a men's clothing shop that specialized in European style clothing. They made their purchases and left the store. They found a public restroom and Mobius changed his outfit while Ian added a new pair of loafers and a new jacket to his attire. They exited the restroom looking more like a pair of American businessmen than soldiers. They stopped as a man in a white kaffiyeh was hawking his confections at a kiosque. They watched him spin sugar over the freshly baked pastry which smelled faintly of apples. Ian felt himself begin to salivate and quickly took out his wallet and purchased two of the pastries. He handed one to Mobius and they continued on their way.
"Won't this spoil our dinner?" Mobius grinned, plunging his teeth into the delicacy.
"I don't know about you, but I am hungry enough to eat two dinners, pastry included."
Mobius shook his head and laughed, happily munching away on his pastry.
When they made it back to the hotel, Mobius ran the shopping bag back up to their room while Ian waited in the lobby. Ian stared out the glass front of the hotel, watching passersby, noting the beautiful golden tint the sky was taking on as the sun began to sink. A woman, without the traditional veil and the minimum acceptable head covering, passed near him as he waited and his breath caught in his throat. Her long honey-brown hair swayed as she moved and the silk dress she wore whispered as she went by. Disappointment crept into his heart as she turned to look his direction, no piercing green eyes.
Mobius returned presently and they made their way into the restaurant, reputed to be one of the best in Kuwait City, the aroma of delicious food assailing their senses immediately. They were seated and served drinks quickly. They perused their menus and were told their server would be with them momentarily. As soon as the host had walked away, Mobius pointed to the menu in his hand, "Oh man . . . they serve camel."
Ian nodded, "It's considered a delicacy and is quite expensive."
Mobius shuddered and said in a conspiratorial tone, "They can keep it. I can't imagine eating one of those nasty beasts."
Ian smiled at his friend, recalling Mobius' first encounter with a camel shortly after they had arrived in the region. The beast of burden had decided that Mobius' bald pate must be something tasty and slobbered all over the unwary Mobius' head. Ian stifled a laugh at the memory, "I think I'll order one of these steaks . . . to begin with at least. Real food. What a decision to have to make!" He smiled again.
The pair placed their order when the server came to their table and eagerly awaited the arrival of their dinners while enjoying the rolls and fresh butter that had been placed on their table. Ian looked around the restaurant, the sounds of clinking silverware and china a muffled accompaniment to the sounds of people chatting softly while servers moved quickly and quietly carrying platters of steaming food. It all seemed so civilized and he released a contented sigh.
The food arrived relatively soon and Ian and Mobius dug in, relishing the dishes they'd been served. They chatted about their plans for the next two days as they leisurely ate their meal, a refreshing change of pace from the hectic meals at Base Camp.
When both men were finished eating, stuffed to the point of being miserable, Ian paid the bill and they made their way outdoors to the patio to enjoy the evening air. A couple of stray cats wandered around the edges of the patio, one balancing on the narrow ledge which ran down one side of the structure. Ian smiled at the scruffier of the two felines and reached out a hand toward it. The cat sniffed tentatively at Ian's fingertips, but retreated quickly when it saw there was no food there. Ian chuckled at the cat's antics, "Shy little thing."
The stars were beginning to come out, but they were nowhere near as visible as they were in the desert, the city lights obscuring all but the brightest. Ian rocked back on his heels, staring up into the expanse, "Do you believe in fate, Hector?"
"This sounds ominous. Why do you ask?" Mobius stared at Ian, the soft light of early evening the only witness to their conversation.
"She is in my dreams now. I see people on the street and mistake them for her. She is consuming my thoughts."
Mobius barked a short laugh, "Oh man, that's just what being in love is like. There was this girl I knew once . . . "
Mobius continued his tale, but Ian heard none of it. His thoughts were on Sara, the honey-colored highlights of her hair, her piercing green eyes, her creamy skin.
" . . . trust me, you're just in love." Mobius grinned.
Ian nodded, "Perhaps you are right." He sighed.
"Let's go see what the night life here is like. Maybe it will take your mind off her for a while."
Ian and Mobius made a tour of the bars in the immediate vicinity, but Ian did not truly enjoy any of them. He felt restless and out of place in each venue. Mobius on the other hand, was having a grand time. Ian watched as he put the moves on a few women, none of which were dressed traditionally thank goodness, and enjoyed several mixed drinks. By the time the last bar they had visited was ready to close, Mobius was feeling fine. Ian envied Mobius' joie de vivre, but couldn't force himself to act in the same manner. The best he had managed all evening was some convivial chat with one of the women, Mobius had brought to their table. She had lost interest in the conversation fairly quickly though and made her way to greener pastures.
Mobius heard the last call go out and ordered two more drinks. He returned to the table and sat one down in front of Ian, "Come on man, enjoy at least one drink."
Ian smiled ruefully at his friend, Mobius was trying his damnedest to make him have a good time. "You are a true friend, Hector." Ian raised his glass in a salute to his comrade. He sipped at the drink, a concoction of fruit juices laced with what he suspected was rum or vodka.
When they had finished their drinks, Ian and Mobius walked back to their hotel. They saw several more cats along the way, some of which were bold enough to brush up against their legs begging for hand outs. Mobius shooed one away as it twined through his legs, nearly tripping him. "What is it with these damn cats?"
Ian smiled, the liquor flowing through his system causing him to feel relaxed and sleepy, "The Koran prohibits keeping dogs as pets."
Mobius seemed to accept the explanation, but did not stop shooing the cats away as they approached. He'd had enough to drink that it was entirely possible one of the irritating little beasts could cause him to trip and fall.
Neither man managed to get undressed before falling asleep. They had each fallen across their respective beds after reaching their room and locking the door. Only the soft sounds of light snoring broke the silence in the room.
Ian found himself amongst lush flora once again, his eyes immediately scanning the area for the mimosa tree where he had seen Sara previously. Once he found it, he strode towards it purposefully, his feet making no sound as they brushed through the soft grass. At the last moment, he hesitated. What would he say to the woman who filled his thoughts? Steeling his resolve he continued onward.
There beneath the heavily laden branches of the mimosa with its fuzzy sweet blossoms, sat the same woman he had seen here before. She was dressed in a simple white gown, her hair spilling over her shoulder as she turned to regard him. A smile graced her lips as she spoke, "Know me not, Ian Nottingham?"
Ian stepped back, stunned. The face was Sara's undoubtedly, but the woman's manner and voice were different. He knelt before her, "My lady."
The woman laughed lightly, "Do rise. I am Septima Zenobia and you have no need to kneel before me."
Ian's mind raced through the histories he had read, Septima Zenobia had governed Syria from 250-275 AD. During the reign of Claudius II, she had thoroughly trounced Roman legions so badly that they had retreated like whipped puppies with their tails tucked between their legs. It had taken Claudius' successor, Aurelian, nearly four years of constant battle to capture her. Most importantly though, she had wielded the Witchblade.
"Many pardons, my lady. It is just that you bear the face of someone I know."
Septima smiled again. "Someone you know of," she corrected.
Ian nodded. "That is correct, my lady." He did not dare look directly at this formidable woman, he only occasionally glimpsed her with upward glances.
"I have come to you to warn you," she began ominously, "there are those who wish to control you and in so doing control the next wielder of the blade."
"I don't understand my lady, how would controlling someone as unimportant as myself have any effect on the next wielder?" Ian was genuinely confused.
"Do not be concerned with that at the moment, merely know that an event is to take place soon that you must avoid." Septima frowned unsure of how to phrase what she had seen, "Someone wished to pierce you with a lance in order to change your thoughts."
Ian blinked. What was she speaking of? Before he could open his mouth to question her, he felt the world around him shift perceptibly.
He stood and peered out the door, confirming his suspicions. The sandstorm had subsided and bright sunlight bathed the encampment, making visible the damage that the wind and sand had done during the night. Other units were already moving around, the sounds of morning PT could be heard from a distance. Ian groaned softly. This was going to be a day of backbreaking work, plain and simple. He got his desert BDU from his footlocker and slid into it. Rubbing a hand across his face he detected a shave was in order and took out his shaving kit and removed the offending whiskers. He packed away his black fatigues away before nudging Mobius' shoulder gently. "Wake up."
Mobius opened his eyes and sat up, "Morning already?" He stretched, coaxing life back into his massive frame before beginning to get dressed.
Ian nodded and then nudged Lukin. Alexei muttered something under his breath and then slowly woke up, looking around in confusion a moment before realizing the circumstances in which he had come to sleep in Ian and Mobius' tent. "Oh joy. Morning." He listened intently for a moment. "Sandstorm's over. Great. We get to dig out today. Let me go back to sleep. Tell the Cap I died or something."
"No such luck. Get your ass up." Ian prodded Alexei with his boot, smiling all the while. "Come on, time to get to the BCOC for duty assignments."
"Like we don't know what it's going to be. Move this sand over there to that pile of sand. Good. Now move that sand there to this patch of sand over here." Alexei grumbled, his boyish features taking on a look of disgust.
Ian laughed, "Well perhaps if we hurry, it won't be move that sand out of that latrine."
"Good point." Lukin struggled to his feet and yawned groggily, rubbing his eyes. He rummaged through his pack and changed clothes. "Wish we had time for a shower."
Mid-day found Ian and Mobius shoveling sand and filling sand bags near the BCOC. Ian had gone to check on Preston before beginning their assignment and had been able to visit with him briefly. Now, as they shoveled, the pair discussed Preston's condition.
"Did they say how long he'll be out of commission?" Mobius asked, a questioning look on his face.
Ian shook his head as he bent and scooped up yet another shovel full of sand with his entrenching tool. "No, but I bet he gets a few days R&R once he's released."
"How long since you've had R&R?" Mobius held open a bag for Ian to put sand in.
Ian paused and frowned. "I haven't." He spit sand and grit out of his mouth.
"Maybe we should both request some soon then. I'll ask Captain Keane if we can each get a three day pass." He closed the bag and hefted the heavy bag easily atop the growing stack before picking up another.
They worked without speaking for a while, until Mobius spotted a helicopter coming onto the flight line. He motioned to Ian and Ian looked up just in time to see Ramirez and Keane leading Cynthia Roberts to the waiting craft.
"You ever figure out where you know her from?" Mobius asked in a low voice.
Ian shook his head. "Not yet, but I will." Ian removed his canteen from his belt and opened it, letting a long swallow of orange Kool-Aid flow down his throat clearing away the dust and grit. He passed the canteen to Mobius, who accepted it gratefully.
"She's 31, so she's a little older than you, maybe someone you knew growing up?"
Ian shook his head, "No, Irons saw to it I had very little interaction with other children." A frown marred his features.
Mobius dropped the subject realizing that causing Ian to talk about Irons would spoil his mood. He passed the canteen back after taking a deep cooling swallow.
They began working again, the hot desert sun beating down on their backs causing both men to sweat profusely as they toiled.
The helicopter lifted off, bright sunlight reflecting off the raw metal where the sand storm had worn away bits of black paint.
Ramirez walked past them on his way back into the BCOC, "Chow time boys." He motioned for them to head to the mess tent before continuing on his way.
Ian wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, inadvertently leaving a smear of dirt across his forehead. He leaned back stretching the long muscles of his back.
Mobius watched as Ian started to walk away, "Hey Nottingham, forgot your misery spoon!"
"Hmm? Oh!" Ian turned around and picked up his entrenching tool. "Food on the brain."
Mobius chuckled and clapped Ian on the back. "More like women on the brain. First you stare at those pictures Irons sends you and now you have the one that flew outta here a bit ago on your mind."
"It's not the same, I assure you," Ian shook his head. "Sara Pezzini is beautiful, good, smart, strong . . . "
Mobius interrupted, "You know all that from looking at a few pictures?"
"I do." Ian continued, his face solemn, "The woman that just left here a while ago, while not unattractive and probably very intelligent just does not possess the same qualities as Sara."
Mobius kicked a lump of sand aside with his foot and chuckled, "You got it bad, boy. Let's go eat."
Ian pushed a piece of meat that was supposed to be chicken around on his tray with his fork. The conversation going on around him was lost to him as his thoughts dwelled on the woman called Cynthia Roberts. He was certain he had seen her before, perhaps not by that name, but the face was etched in his memory. He had always had a good memory for faces and Cynthia Roberts' face, he was positive, he'd seen before. He tumbled the memory around in his mind, trying to associate names or places to the image of her. It had to have been in the States, of that he was convinced. He was fairly certain it had not been abroad while he had been receiving his education or training. He nudged the so-called chicken further across his tray.
"If you're not going to eat that . . . " Mobius directed his fork towards Ian's tray.
Ian locked the tines of his fork into Mobius', flicking the larger man's fork out of his hand and onto the table, "I'm going to eat it. I was just thinking."
Mobius laughed and retrieved the fork. "You should see if you can get a picture of her at the beach." Mobius winked.
Ian's face darkened as he scowled and stood abruptly pushing his tray away, "If you must know my thoughts were elsewhere. Do not speak of Sara in that manner." Ian strode out of the mess tent, slamming the door behind him.
Mobius stared after Ian a moment, then sighed, "Touchy, touchy." He speared Ian's uneaten chicken with his fork and then popped it in his mouth.
Ian sat on his cot sharpening his knife with a whetstone, his face still locked into a frown. Each pass of the knife across the stone caused a rasping sound, the metal gleaming in the early evening light. He paused and looked up as Mobius came in quietly.
"Look man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you, I know how you feel about her." Mobius' hands were outstretched in a gesture of apology.
Ian nodded, but remained silent. The rhythmic hiss of the knife across the whetstone continued.
Mobius sat down on his bunk, opposite Ian. "Nottingham, look at me." He waited until Ian looked up, "You are like a brother to me, closer even. I really am sorry. I'm asking for your forgiveness." Mobius' expression was sincere, his apology genuine.
"I forgive you." The words came out quietly, honestly.
Mobius sat silently for a few moments, as if deep in thought. Finally he said, "I've never seen you this torn up, what's going on?"
"It's Cynthia Roberts. I know I know her, I just don't know where from and it's driving me nuts." Ian punctuated his words by scraping his knife across the whetstone.
"Sounds like it's more than just a misplaced face," Mobius prodded gently.
Ian sighed. "I can't explain it. It is something . . . something important, something I should recall." He frowned, his dark eyes flashing.
"It'll come to you. Just try to put it out of your mind, you're thinking too hard about it," Mobius offered.
Ian nodded, "You're right, of course."
"So how about writing home for a swimsuit pic?" Mobius grinned.
Ian growled and lobbed his pillow at Mobius.
Mobius laughed and held up his hands in surrender as the pillow hit him. "Just joking, man! Just joking!"
Ian smiled. "I know, I know. Actually I do need to write a thank you for the last package of Kool-aid and ask for some more cherry since -someone- won my last pack off of me." Ian got out some stationery and found a pen in the pocket of the fatigues folded neatly in his footlocker.
Mobius laughed, "Fair and square! Oh! I almost forgot, I got three day passes for us both. I felt bad about ticking you off so I went and asked Cap for 'em."
Ian's eyes widened and he paled visibly.
"What? It's just three day passes . . . "
Ian held the gold and blue enameled pen up for Mobius' inspection. Clearly engraved on the clip of the pen were the initials "K. I."
Mobius looked confused, "So it's Irons' pen, what's the big deal?"
"I picked this up at the mercenaries' compound, Moby."
Mobius let out a low whistle. "So you think maybe that is why you know Cynthia Roberts?" he asked quietly.
Ian thought for a moment, "It's got to be the answer. It would certainly explain how one of Irons' pens ended up in that compound."
"So what's her connection to him?" Mobius' eyes narrowed.
Ian turned the gold and blue enameled pen in his fingers as if it could provide the answers. "I'm not sure. I know he's had transactions with other governments before, but this just doesn't make sense."
Mobius was contemplative, rubbing his hand over his bald head, "Do you think maybe she was making a deal for Irons with those guys?"
"It's certainly possible." Ian stared at the pen.
"If that is the case, then why were we sent to retrieve her?"
Ian's eyes never left the pen as he replied, "Irons could have asked someone to order us to, I suppose."
"He's a civilian, Nottingham." Mobius frowned.
"He's a civilian with lots of people in his pockets. Listen, don't mention this to anyone. Not a soul. This needs to stay between just you and I . . . at least until I have time to think about it."
Mobius nodded. "On to more pleasant topics then . . . where do we want to go on R&R?" He smiled.
"Kuwait City? They've rebuilt a lot already." Enthusiasm filled Ian's voice.
"Sounds like a plan." Mobius grinned. "Let's go hit the showers and then go see Preston. We can get re-hydrated while we're there."
"Best idea you've had all day." Ian picked up a small bucket containing his toiletries. "The shower, not the getting pumped full of saline. I still hate needles." He gave Mobius a fake shudder and a grin. "I'll write that letter to Chef Tomas later."
"You'd better, gonna run out of Kool-aid soon," Mobius poked Ian in the arm with a forefinger, "and if you keep losing bets . . . " he let the sentence trail off with a sly grin on his face, gleaming white teeth shining.
After showering and getting re-dressed, Mobius and Ian made their way to the field hospital. They were both pleasantly surprised to find Preston sitting up, awake and aware.
"Hewitt!" Mobius called out in greeting.
Preston waved at his visitors, a smile crossing his face.
"How are you doing, Preston?" Ian asked, his face full of concern for his brother-at-arms. He pulled up a metal and plastic chair and sat down. Mobius followed suit.
Preston held up a small chalkboard on which he'd written the words, "Doing fine. How's Faris?"
"He's good, he was back on shovel duty today. Sandstorm nearly buried us. If I didn't know better I'd swear you got hit just to avoid digging."
Preston nodded and erased the small board before scrawling on it and holding it up again, "Cpt. Keane said we got the girl."
Ian nodded. "We did. She thought you were a total wimp for getting hit," he teased.
Preston held up the board again, this time it read, "Eat me."
Ian and Mobius laughed heartily. Ian shook his head, "No way Hewitt, Dragons are tough and stringy." He smiled. "Glad to see you're back to your old self."
Preston nodded, erasing and scribbling furiously for a moment. When he held up the board again it was a request for several computer-related books from his footlocker.
Mobius nodded, "I'll run by and get those for you after we get re-hydrated. We were digging sand during the hot part of the day and Nottingham there's been really testy from being out in the sun."
Preston held up the chalkboard again, aiming it away from Ian. Mobius laughed as he read, "When isn't he?"
"All right, pincushion time." Mobius stood, as did Ian. "You get healed up quick, Hewitt. Need that strong back of yours behind a shovel." He smiled.
Mobius and Ian took their leave of Preston and went to request saline IVs to replace fluids lost during the day. Since they had waited until after the dinner hour, no one was waiting ahead of them. They were taken back fairly quickly and given saline intravenously. As they were leaving, they encountered Samir Faris.
"How's it going Sam?" Mobius asked.
"Just going in to get this checked." Faris pointed to the bandage on his arm.
"Preston was asking about you a bit ago." Ian smiled.
"He's awake then?"
"And asking for computer books." Mobius laughed.
Faris grinned, "He's going to be fine." He waved to Mobius and Ian and wandered inside.
Mobius left Ian to go get Preston's books and Ian went back to his tent. Once he'd kicked off his boots and gotten settled in, reclining comfortably on his cot, he picked up the stationery he had put aside earlier in the day and began composing a letter.
Dearest Tomas,
I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to express my thanks for the package you sent and am in hopes that perhaps you might be able to send another. The weather here is miserably hot and the Kool-aid makes drinking the ungodly amounts of water we have to consume more bearable. I do so miss your culinary creations. The mess tent here is aptly named.
If you could see your way fit to send more books that would be appreciated as well. I have read and thoroughly enjoyed the ones you included with the last package.
Hector Mobius and I have acquired three day passes and I am in high hopes of visiting Kuwait City to see the rebuilding efforts being carried on there. I will bring you home a souvenir, I promise.
My love to you and your dear family.
Sincerely, Your Ian
Ian folded the letter and put it in an envelope before sitting it atop his footlocker. He picked up a book and began to read, falling asleep shortly thereafter with the book resting atop his chest, lightly rising and falling with his steady rhythmic breathing.
Mobius came in quietly and seeing Ian asleep, gently covered him with a light blanket before turning off the light and climbing into his own cot.
Bright morning sunlight shone down on the unit as they sang cadence while taking their morning run. Ian sang along, but his mind was on other matters. What type of deal had Kenneth Irons made with the mercenaries? An arms deal? How did Cynthia Roberts fit in? Was she Irons' emissary? She had been covered head to toe in flowing black garments when he had seen her, so he couldn't be certain, but he did not think she had been wearing the blade. Surely he would have sensed that. The blade would have activated to protect her as bullets had flown. No, she could not have been wearing the blade. The unit began the double time part of their run. Ian picked up speed with the rest of the unit, still thinking about the blade. Would Irons have promised Cynthia Roberts a chance to try on the blade? Possibly. The blade would view her as a pretender almost certainly. That did not mean that Cynthia would not remain close, possibly causing problems for Sara in the future. Dominique Boucher had been a pretender, but she remained in New York, a thorn in Irons' side at times. The more people aware of the Witchblade and its powers, the more potential difficulties for Sara when she assumed ownership of it.
The cool down part of the run began. Ian slowed, keeping pace with Mobius who ran beside him. Ian couldn't help but notice that Mobius was wearing a smile, despite the grueling run. When they were dismissed he asked him about it.
"Did you forget we've got R&R? Three days of a real bed, real showers, real food! Our ride will be here after lunch." Mobius looked so happy that Ian almost expected him to burst out into song.
"That's today?" Ian looked stunned.
"What? You forgot?"
"No, I didn't forget, you didn't tell me it was today!"
"Oh." Mobius looked chagrined. "Uh, hey Nottingham? R&R starts today," Mobius tried to keep a straight face.
Ian threw his hands up in frustration. "I can't believe you forgot to tell me."
Mobius laughed, "Well, come on, let's hit the showers."
Lunch was the normal fare, unidentifiable meat, something that was supposed to pass for green vegetables and bread you could play hockey with. Ian barely touched his food, lost in contemplation of the upcoming time away from military life. Mobius had already packed, unpacked and repacked twice. Ian had watched him with amusement while packing his own bag sparsely.
They left the mess tent after being on the receiving end of some good- natured teasing about being slackers and retrieved their bags. The wait for their ride wasn't long and the trip to the bus station was uneventful. Both had enough dinar on them to cover their fares. The hottest part of the day was upon them and the bus station was noisy and hot. They bought their tickets and waited outside under the shelter of a large awning. Local children surrounded them in a matter of minutes and questioned them in the manner of children world-wide. One asked to see their guns, another asked them if they had any candy on them. Mobius answered them rather gruffly, but Ian knelt and spoke to them, teasing them and smiling.
When their bus arrived they bade their small friends farewell and boarded. Mobius took the window seat, promising to switch places before the trip was over. All the windows on the bus were down, despite the sand that came flying in as they traveled, to provide ventilation since the old vehicle didn't have air-conditioning. Ian took a book from his bag and passed the time reading, attempting to ignore the man snoring loudly in the seat behind them. Mobius added to the snoring before long, the scenery failing to hold his attention. Ian chuckled inwardly. What had he expected to see? All there was along the road, other than the occasional broken down truck was sand, sand and more sand.
As Kuwait City came into sight, Ian nudged Mobius awake. He noticed some bombed out buildings, but the re-construction of the city was coming along nicely. The Kuwaitis, living in an oil-rich nation, had spared no expense in rebuilding their capital city to its former glory. They debarked from the bus and as it departed in a cloud of exhaust fumes, found themselves at a bus terminal much nicer than the one they had been at previously. Ian flagged down a cab and gave the driver instructions to take them to a bank before transporting them onward to a hotel.
Once at the bank, Ian accessed the Swiss bank account Irons set up for him and withdrew what he considered to be sufficient funds to spend on their break. The bank personnel were more than happy to help him with the conversion to Kuwaiti Dinar and recommend a good hotel. They assured him if there were anything else they could be of assistance with that they would be more than happy to help him. Ian smiled ruefully. Sometimes being associated with Kenneth Irons had its perks.
As he climbed back into the cab, Ian gave the name of the recommended hotel to the driver. Mobius looked at Ian oddly, but remained silent. When the hotel came into view and the taxi had stopped, Ian paid the driver and collected his bag. Mobius retrieved his duffel bag as well and waited until the cab had pulled away before speaking, "Are you sure this is where we want to stay?"
"Yes, is something wrong with it?" Ian looked at Mobius quizzically, a furrow forming between his eyebrows.
Mobius looked downward, scuffling his feet in the sand, "I don't think I can afford three days of this place."
Ian nudged his comrade and whispered conspiratorially, "You got us the passes, I've got the tab."
Mobius looked up and flashed an ultra white smile at a grinning Ian, "Well hot damn!"
The two soldiers walked up the pink marble steps leading into the hotel. The concierge cast a wary eye at them, but smiled a tight polite smile. Ian laughed inwardly and proceeded to inform the man in perfect Arabic that the bank had recommended this particular establishment. The concierge's attitude changed perceptibly and he was suddenly more than happy to find a suite for Ian and Mobius, telling them of the hotel's amenities and how they would find the fully equipped health club, the outdoor swimming pool and the electronic golf simulator to be the best available. He also told them of the hotel's available dining selections including exotic gourmet cuisine including International, Italian, Chinese, Lebanese and Iranian fare, attempting to impress them. Ian thanked the man and accepted two room keys, one of which he passed to Mobius.
The elevator ride was quick and soon Ian and Mobius found themselves in an opulent suite. They dropped their bags almost simultaneously. "Flip you to see who gets to go first?"
"Heads," Mobius nodded.
Ian laughed, "You would choose that." He flipped a coin in the air and deftly caught it. "Tails!"
Mobius grumbled, "Oh all right, I can't win every time I suppose."
Ian got out of his uniform quickly and dashed into the bathroom. The sight before him almost brought tears to his eyes. A huge marble tub, complete with a hand-held shower head sat directly in front of him. Large fluffy towels were piled high on a stainless steel rack and complimentary toiletries sat lined up neatly on the vanity. He quickly turned on the hot water fully and the cold just a bit. He sighed happily as the room filled with steam. He tried to remember how long it had been since he'd had a real bath rather than the pitiful showers at the Base Camp which barely spewed forth enough water to remove the sand from his skin. As the tub neared full, Ian sank down into the steaming water. He turned the faucet off with his feet, not wanting to sit up out of the water long enough to do it properly.
The hot water soothed away any tension that was built up in his body and the fragrant soap he'd found on the side of the tub gave off the scent of almonds as soon as he had unwrapped it. He scrubbed himself thoroughly and then found a tiny bottle of shampoo in the same scent as the soap. He lathered up his short hair, vowing to grow it longer as soon as his tour of duty was over. He didn't bother to shave, taking a vacation from the tiresome task. After rinsing his body with the hand-held shower, he drained the water from the tub and grabbed one of the huge fluffy towels and began to dry himself off vigorously. He wrapped the towel around his waist, tucking it in so it would stay and padded out of the bathroom. Mobius was sound asleep on one of the beds atop the covers. Ian woke him and merely pointed to the bathroom. Mobius was up and out of the room before Ian could get a word out. Ian laughed and stretched out on the other bed, delighting in the wonderful feeling of a real bed. Even the pillows and sheets were soft. He was asleep before the water in the bathroom came on a few moments later.
Ian walked among the trailing ivies and blooming flowers, the sea of green surrounding him almost maze-like. Everywhere he turned there was another colorful blossom. The delicious sweet fragrance of honeysuckle hung in the air, undertones of a more delicate rose scent beneath it. As he walked past a cherry tree, white petals showered down around him. A barely audible whisper reached his ears, "Ian. Ian, come here."
Ian turned in the direction of the sound, brushing up against a growth of forget-me-nots. There in the shade of a huge mimosa tree, its fuzzy pink and white blossoms giving off a sweet odor, sat a figure in the lush grass. Ian walked towards the woman and as she looked up he saw that it was Sara. His heart started to beat wildly and his throat began to feel dry.
"Nottingham, wake up!" Mobius shook Ian, "Nottingham! Rise and shine boy!"
Ian tried to brush Mobius away and return to the dream, "Gowaaaay."
"Nottingham, come on man, real food is waiting!" Mobius shook him again sending any remnants of the dream flying.
Ian sat up slowly, tears threatening to spill over his lashes. He rubbed his eyes quickly so that Mobius would not see. He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rising to a standing position. He got dressed quickly, donning the only civvy clothes he had, a pair of black slacks, a white long sleeve shirt and a black tie.
Mobius was already dressed, in jeans and a knit shirt, and ready to go. He noted Ian's apparel, "The restaurant here have a dress code or something?"
"They probably do, but this is the only civilian outfit I had to bring." He noticed the frown forming on his comrade's face, "We can go to one of the jamaiya and get some other clothes before dinner."
Mobius' Arabic wasn't as fluent as Ian's, "One of the . . . ?"
"One of the malls." Ian smiled, packing away the things he didn't need at the moment. When all was neat and tidy again, they left the room, locking the door behind them.
The architecture of Kuwait City was impressive. Ian and Mobius pointed out different buildings to each other as they traveled along on foot, both marveling at the spirals and spires mixed among the modern structures. They could see the tops of two large minaret-style storage tanks that held the city's supply of drinking water. They passed a mosque before they reached the first mall and Ian stopped long enough to admire the brightly colored mosaic adorning the low wall surrounding it.
The inside of the jamaiya was crowded and although most of the signs were in both Arabic and English, it was difficult to find the type of store they were searching for. At last, as they rounded a corner, they found a men's clothing shop that specialized in European style clothing. They made their purchases and left the store. They found a public restroom and Mobius changed his outfit while Ian added a new pair of loafers and a new jacket to his attire. They exited the restroom looking more like a pair of American businessmen than soldiers. They stopped as a man in a white kaffiyeh was hawking his confections at a kiosque. They watched him spin sugar over the freshly baked pastry which smelled faintly of apples. Ian felt himself begin to salivate and quickly took out his wallet and purchased two of the pastries. He handed one to Mobius and they continued on their way.
"Won't this spoil our dinner?" Mobius grinned, plunging his teeth into the delicacy.
"I don't know about you, but I am hungry enough to eat two dinners, pastry included."
Mobius shook his head and laughed, happily munching away on his pastry.
When they made it back to the hotel, Mobius ran the shopping bag back up to their room while Ian waited in the lobby. Ian stared out the glass front of the hotel, watching passersby, noting the beautiful golden tint the sky was taking on as the sun began to sink. A woman, without the traditional veil and the minimum acceptable head covering, passed near him as he waited and his breath caught in his throat. Her long honey-brown hair swayed as she moved and the silk dress she wore whispered as she went by. Disappointment crept into his heart as she turned to look his direction, no piercing green eyes.
Mobius returned presently and they made their way into the restaurant, reputed to be one of the best in Kuwait City, the aroma of delicious food assailing their senses immediately. They were seated and served drinks quickly. They perused their menus and were told their server would be with them momentarily. As soon as the host had walked away, Mobius pointed to the menu in his hand, "Oh man . . . they serve camel."
Ian nodded, "It's considered a delicacy and is quite expensive."
Mobius shuddered and said in a conspiratorial tone, "They can keep it. I can't imagine eating one of those nasty beasts."
Ian smiled at his friend, recalling Mobius' first encounter with a camel shortly after they had arrived in the region. The beast of burden had decided that Mobius' bald pate must be something tasty and slobbered all over the unwary Mobius' head. Ian stifled a laugh at the memory, "I think I'll order one of these steaks . . . to begin with at least. Real food. What a decision to have to make!" He smiled again.
The pair placed their order when the server came to their table and eagerly awaited the arrival of their dinners while enjoying the rolls and fresh butter that had been placed on their table. Ian looked around the restaurant, the sounds of clinking silverware and china a muffled accompaniment to the sounds of people chatting softly while servers moved quickly and quietly carrying platters of steaming food. It all seemed so civilized and he released a contented sigh.
The food arrived relatively soon and Ian and Mobius dug in, relishing the dishes they'd been served. They chatted about their plans for the next two days as they leisurely ate their meal, a refreshing change of pace from the hectic meals at Base Camp.
When both men were finished eating, stuffed to the point of being miserable, Ian paid the bill and they made their way outdoors to the patio to enjoy the evening air. A couple of stray cats wandered around the edges of the patio, one balancing on the narrow ledge which ran down one side of the structure. Ian smiled at the scruffier of the two felines and reached out a hand toward it. The cat sniffed tentatively at Ian's fingertips, but retreated quickly when it saw there was no food there. Ian chuckled at the cat's antics, "Shy little thing."
The stars were beginning to come out, but they were nowhere near as visible as they were in the desert, the city lights obscuring all but the brightest. Ian rocked back on his heels, staring up into the expanse, "Do you believe in fate, Hector?"
"This sounds ominous. Why do you ask?" Mobius stared at Ian, the soft light of early evening the only witness to their conversation.
"She is in my dreams now. I see people on the street and mistake them for her. She is consuming my thoughts."
Mobius barked a short laugh, "Oh man, that's just what being in love is like. There was this girl I knew once . . . "
Mobius continued his tale, but Ian heard none of it. His thoughts were on Sara, the honey-colored highlights of her hair, her piercing green eyes, her creamy skin.
" . . . trust me, you're just in love." Mobius grinned.
Ian nodded, "Perhaps you are right." He sighed.
"Let's go see what the night life here is like. Maybe it will take your mind off her for a while."
Ian and Mobius made a tour of the bars in the immediate vicinity, but Ian did not truly enjoy any of them. He felt restless and out of place in each venue. Mobius on the other hand, was having a grand time. Ian watched as he put the moves on a few women, none of which were dressed traditionally thank goodness, and enjoyed several mixed drinks. By the time the last bar they had visited was ready to close, Mobius was feeling fine. Ian envied Mobius' joie de vivre, but couldn't force himself to act in the same manner. The best he had managed all evening was some convivial chat with one of the women, Mobius had brought to their table. She had lost interest in the conversation fairly quickly though and made her way to greener pastures.
Mobius heard the last call go out and ordered two more drinks. He returned to the table and sat one down in front of Ian, "Come on man, enjoy at least one drink."
Ian smiled ruefully at his friend, Mobius was trying his damnedest to make him have a good time. "You are a true friend, Hector." Ian raised his glass in a salute to his comrade. He sipped at the drink, a concoction of fruit juices laced with what he suspected was rum or vodka.
When they had finished their drinks, Ian and Mobius walked back to their hotel. They saw several more cats along the way, some of which were bold enough to brush up against their legs begging for hand outs. Mobius shooed one away as it twined through his legs, nearly tripping him. "What is it with these damn cats?"
Ian smiled, the liquor flowing through his system causing him to feel relaxed and sleepy, "The Koran prohibits keeping dogs as pets."
Mobius seemed to accept the explanation, but did not stop shooing the cats away as they approached. He'd had enough to drink that it was entirely possible one of the irritating little beasts could cause him to trip and fall.
Neither man managed to get undressed before falling asleep. They had each fallen across their respective beds after reaching their room and locking the door. Only the soft sounds of light snoring broke the silence in the room.
Ian found himself amongst lush flora once again, his eyes immediately scanning the area for the mimosa tree where he had seen Sara previously. Once he found it, he strode towards it purposefully, his feet making no sound as they brushed through the soft grass. At the last moment, he hesitated. What would he say to the woman who filled his thoughts? Steeling his resolve he continued onward.
There beneath the heavily laden branches of the mimosa with its fuzzy sweet blossoms, sat the same woman he had seen here before. She was dressed in a simple white gown, her hair spilling over her shoulder as she turned to regard him. A smile graced her lips as she spoke, "Know me not, Ian Nottingham?"
Ian stepped back, stunned. The face was Sara's undoubtedly, but the woman's manner and voice were different. He knelt before her, "My lady."
The woman laughed lightly, "Do rise. I am Septima Zenobia and you have no need to kneel before me."
Ian's mind raced through the histories he had read, Septima Zenobia had governed Syria from 250-275 AD. During the reign of Claudius II, she had thoroughly trounced Roman legions so badly that they had retreated like whipped puppies with their tails tucked between their legs. It had taken Claudius' successor, Aurelian, nearly four years of constant battle to capture her. Most importantly though, she had wielded the Witchblade.
"Many pardons, my lady. It is just that you bear the face of someone I know."
Septima smiled again. "Someone you know of," she corrected.
Ian nodded. "That is correct, my lady." He did not dare look directly at this formidable woman, he only occasionally glimpsed her with upward glances.
"I have come to you to warn you," she began ominously, "there are those who wish to control you and in so doing control the next wielder of the blade."
"I don't understand my lady, how would controlling someone as unimportant as myself have any effect on the next wielder?" Ian was genuinely confused.
"Do not be concerned with that at the moment, merely know that an event is to take place soon that you must avoid." Septima frowned unsure of how to phrase what she had seen, "Someone wished to pierce you with a lance in order to change your thoughts."
Ian blinked. What was she speaking of? Before he could open his mouth to question her, he felt the world around him shift perceptibly.