Chapter 3............
Rashid was swiftly losing patience with the old man Pedro and his wife. They didn't speak his language and he didn't speak theirs, so the battle to describe who he was looking for was trying, to say the very least. Rashid had taken on the quest to strike at Ardeth Bay at the request of his brother Lock Nah. No, he wasn't to strike at Ardeth personally, he was to leave that to his brother, he was to strike at his son, knowing that Ardeth would forever live with the guilt of not being able to save him.
After around an hour of utter confusion, Rashid picked up that the word 'Gomera' had been used countless times. Gomera, wasn't that another island in the chain?
"Woman, boy," Rashid mimed as he repeated their names.
Pedro nodded. "Si,"
"Where are they?" gestured Rashid, lifting his arms inquisitively.
"Gomera," Pedro smiled. "Gomera," he repeated, innocently nodding his head.
As quickly as they'd arrived, the two men left, seemingly satisfied that they had the right information. Pedro gave them a couple of minutes and then signalled to the bar owner across the street to watch where they went. Alejandro made for his car and prepared to follow from a distance. The locals in this quiet town had taken Samia and Hamid to their hearts and would see no ill befall them. The menacing air that surrounded the two strangers had unsettled the whole town.
Alejandro followed the men's car until it pulled into the town of Puerto de Cabras, from there he followed on foot. Rashid and his henchman had entered the quayside tavern and ordered rooms for the night. The very moment Alejandro saw them mount the stairs to their rooms he motioned for Hector the owner to come over. He'd known Hector for a great many years, they'd sailed on the same fishing vessel for over twenty years before deciding to both settle on the Island and open their bars. Hector being a keen conversationalist had picked up more than a few words, from more than a few languages, so had been able to converse slightly with the strangers.
"Those men, the strangers who've just gone upstairs, what are they doing here?" asked Alejandro.
"They came in this morning, looking for a woman and a child. Salim, the African who works the cranes was in here talking to them. I take it he directed them to Cotillo then?" said Hector.
"Hector I need to know, did they say anything about where they were going?"
"Oh yes, they were in a stinking mood, complaining that they now had to wait for the Tenerife boat. I tried to explain that it sailed tomorrow afternoon, but it still didn't cheer them up. Oh, they also mentioned something about La Gomera, why on earth would they want to go there, it's virtually deserted?"
Alejandro breathed a sigh of relief, so they'd believed the story Pedro had spun them. Good. That would definitely buy Samia and Hamid plenty of time, the Gomera boats only sailed once a week, only docking for a short time to unload. By the time they realized they'd hit a dead end it would be too late. They'd be stuck on Gomera for a week before they had any chance of getting back to Tenerife.
"Hector my friend, I need to know when they've gone, when they've left the island, could you send your son Juan with word the minute they've gone," Alejandro asked.
"Of course, but what's this all about?" Hector quizzed.
"Oh believe me, for the moment you're safer not knowing," Alejandro laughed. "Oh, and another thing, please also let me know the moment any more strangers arrive.
"No problem, " laughed Hector. "Then perhaps we could sit down over a bottle of wine and you'll tell me what all this has been about."
"That's a promise," said Alejandro. "Thankyou my friend."
Two weeks of constant travel had taken their toll on Ardeth Bay's patience, usually he had it in spades, but this sitting around, waiting, had pushed him to the very limit. The other passengers on the boat that was now nearing the Rock of Gibraltar had tried in the past weeks to make conversation with the forlorn looking man, but after being answered with a range of one word replies they'd all but given up. All had noticed his frustration each time the boat had docked. His look of despair at every delay tugging at some of the womens heartstrings. What could have such a beautiful man in such turmoil they'd thought.
After leaving the Medjai camp, Ardeth had headed for Cairo, taking a boat up the Nile until reaching Alexandria. He then switched boats and made for Spain. Unfortunately, the earliest boat by days had been a cruiser that had proceeded to make stops at half the ports in the Mediterranean Sea. The only comfort to him was that now he was only half a day away from Cadiz. But what would he find when he got to Cadiz? Would they even be there? Had Lock Na's men even made a move yet?
Ardeth knew that Hassan had given instructions to Samia to head for Fuerteventura should anything go wrong, but had she remembered them, had it been possible for her to reach the place? Had she even tried? or the worst scenario, had they even been given the chance? All of these thoughts weighed heavily on his mind as the boat sailed closer and closer to Cadiz, leaving him with nothing more to do than pace constantly up and down the deck.
On arrival in Cadiz, Ardeth headed straight for the address on the parchment Mohammed had given him before he'd left Egypt. Before he'd left the ship he'd quickly changed into stone colored trousers and a plain white cotton shirt, more suitable clothing for the surroundings he thought. The tattoos on his face and hands being the only thing that could draw attention to him, but he reasoned that Cadiz being a busy port they'd have seen sights more intriguing than he.
His heart sank as the taxi made it's way up the cobbled street and the house came into view. The windows were closed and barred and the small garden overgrown. It obviously hadn't been lived in for a while.
"Are you sure you have the right address," said the driver in broken English. It was the only language he and Ardeth had been able to half communicate in.
"Yes, I'm sure," Ardeth replied. "Why do you ask?"
"The pretty lady, Samia, she left with the little boy a couple of months ago," he said. "I took them to the port myself," he rambled on as the car came to a halt in front of the house.
"Did you know her?" Ardeth found himself asking.
"Si, she used to take the boy outside of the town to my uncle's stables, so he could ride the horses, she said he'd been on the back of a horse since he was less than three years old, and my how it showed."
Ardeth interrupted, "So he rides well then?" he asked, his heart almost bursting with pride.
"Oh yes, there's not many who show such skill at such a young age, It's obviously in his blood."
That one remark 'in his blood' brought Ardeth back to earth with a bump. He'd let his mind wander and in doing so was losing precious time.
"Can you wait for me, I just want to take a quick look inside the house," he said.
"Ah, are you interested in buying it now?" the driver asked.
"Something like that," replied Ardeth as he got out of the taxi and walked up the short path.
As Ardeth rounded the rear of the house, he noticed that the back door had been forced open slightly. He unsheathed the small dagger he carried strapped to his leg and readied himself for any trouble. Pushing open the door a little more, he knew by instinct that trouble had already been and gone. Making his way through the small kitchen he saw that the place had been completely ransacked, food left on the counter had long since gone mouldy and quite a few things were strewn on the floor. She'd obviously left in a great hurry.
He searched for around for a few minutes without finding any indication that Samia had left the place voluntarily. His heart was in his mouth as he looked for any traces of dried blood, anything to indicate that a struggle had taken place, and sighed in relief as he found none. The destruction had most probably taken place after Samia had left.
As he was turning to leave, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye, half hidden under a rug in the living room. He bent down and picked it up, feeling the air rush out of his body as he did so. It was a photograph, a photograph of a boy sat astride a large horse, with the same curly black hair and intense eyes his father posessed. He had such a look of joy on his face that it moved Ardeth to tears.
He slumped to the floor and leaned back against the wall, still staring at the dusty photograph. When he looked at the girl in the photo with Hamid, smiling up proudly at him, he knew this must be Samia. Ardeth was taken aback at how young she was, how despite her youth she'd taken care of his son for all these years, running from place to place hiding, never having the chance to live her own life. But when he looked more closely at the picture and studied the expression on her young face, he knew instantly that she loved his son, just as if he'd been her own. He had nothing but a great respect for her and a gratitude that knew no boundaries.
Ardeth gathered himself together and dried the few tears that still lingered on his cheeks. The shock of seeing his son for the first time in years was numbing. He'd grown so much, but then again, time didn't stand still and babies all too soon grew up into children. He brought the photo to his lips and pressed it to them before putting it in the pocket in his shirt. The pocket closest to his heart.
The driver looked at Ardeth a little strangely as he got back into the taxi. He turned around to the back seat and looked Ardeth straight in the face.
"Come to think of it," he said. "He looked just like you."
"He's my son," whispered Ardeth. "Please, I'm trusting you as a man of honor not to give this information to anyone else," he said. "They could both be in great danger if you do."
The driver nodded, he'd liked Samia and Hamid, at one point he'd wanted to get closer to Samia, wanted to court her, but she'd politely and graciously refused him, saying that she had Hamid to take care of and that in another time and another place she'd have been more than happy to be with him. He'd respected her decision, sensing that there was another underlying reason, but hadn't pushed her.
On seeing this man who now sat in his taxi and claimed to be the childs father, he suspected that he was the real reason for her refusal. The man had an air about him, an air of nobility, one of rank and stature. The tattoos only serving to enhance that. He laughed slightly as he realized it would have been no competition.
"Could you take me to the dock please," asked Ardeth, now impatient to get to the Island as quickly as was humanly possible.
"I could, but you wont get a boat to anywhere now, it's too late for today," he said.
"Then could you possibly direct me to a hotel, or somewhere I can stay for the night," Ardeth asked.
"Come on," said the driver. "I'll take you to the small Inn on the quayside, I'm sure they'll have a spare room for you."
The driver had been right and soon Ardeth was settled into a small but comfortable room. He lay on the bed and stared at the photograph once again. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep with the photo clutched tightly to his chest. The one single image of his son dancing through his dreams for the remainder of the night.
He woke early and washed and dressed quickly, tucking the photograph back into his breastpocket before heading out to the dockside. On arrival he checked with the harbormaster as to which boats were sailing that day and was further annoyed to find that the only boat going out to the Islands was one to Tenerife. The harbormaster assured him that once in Tenerife, which was only a days sail away he'd have no problems chartering a smaller boat to take him over to Fuerteventura. Money was an international language, understood everywhere.
So with a weary heart Ardeth boarded the boat for Tenerife, once again pacing the decks in frustration for hours on end. Why on earth was every obstacle against him? What forces were combining to keep him away from his son.
Once again the doubts for Hamid's, and now Samia's safety, for she had gained a special place in his heart with the devotion she'd shown to his son, returned to the surface. He'd done some travelling in his time, but this journey was taking it's toll, not only on his body, which was weary with lack of sound sleep, but on his mental state also. The only consolation he had was the one dusty photograph and it was by keeping this close to his heart that he saved some of his rapidly decreasing sanity.
As he finally got off the boat in Santa Cruz, Tenerife, he was sure he'd have no problem getting to Fuerteventura quickly, and then, all he had to do was find them. He went straight to the port office and was just about to buy the ticket when he saw two people that stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Allah, no," he cried, as Lock Na's henchmen walked down the gangplank of the ferry. He stole away from the window of the office and watched, keeping his head down and using his peripheral vision to see where they were heading, and more importantly, if they were alone. Ardeth in his newly acquired clothes faded into the background, but these two in their red robes stuck out like a sore thumb and were soon the talk of the quayside.
Ardeth watched and waited, tucking his hair down the back of his shirt as they entered the office. He quickly grabbed a wide brimmed hat from the seat at the side of him and pulled it forwards on his head, shading his face, giving the impression that he was taking a siesta. But his ears were tuned into the conversation at hand, listening sharply to every word and missing nothing.
As they left the office he breathed a sigh of relief. They'd only booked two tickets, and had been directed to a hotel where they could wait for the boat to Gomera, which didn't set sail for another five days. He put the hat back down when he was sure they'd gone.
Allah help him, he'd wanted to strike out at them, kill them stone dead where they stood, but that wouldn't help him in his quest, it would only draw attention to him and maybe have him carted off to prison. What chance did he have of finding Hamid if he was languishing in some prison cell?
He returned to the counter and purchased his ticket, thanking his luck at last that the boat for Fuerteventura was about to set sail. He ran out of the office keeping his head down and made it up the gangplank just in the nick of time. As the boat sailed out of port he hoped against all hope that the next journey he would take, would be to bring his beloved son home with him, safe and well.
Rashid was swiftly losing patience with the old man Pedro and his wife. They didn't speak his language and he didn't speak theirs, so the battle to describe who he was looking for was trying, to say the very least. Rashid had taken on the quest to strike at Ardeth Bay at the request of his brother Lock Nah. No, he wasn't to strike at Ardeth personally, he was to leave that to his brother, he was to strike at his son, knowing that Ardeth would forever live with the guilt of not being able to save him.
After around an hour of utter confusion, Rashid picked up that the word 'Gomera' had been used countless times. Gomera, wasn't that another island in the chain?
"Woman, boy," Rashid mimed as he repeated their names.
Pedro nodded. "Si,"
"Where are they?" gestured Rashid, lifting his arms inquisitively.
"Gomera," Pedro smiled. "Gomera," he repeated, innocently nodding his head.
As quickly as they'd arrived, the two men left, seemingly satisfied that they had the right information. Pedro gave them a couple of minutes and then signalled to the bar owner across the street to watch where they went. Alejandro made for his car and prepared to follow from a distance. The locals in this quiet town had taken Samia and Hamid to their hearts and would see no ill befall them. The menacing air that surrounded the two strangers had unsettled the whole town.
Alejandro followed the men's car until it pulled into the town of Puerto de Cabras, from there he followed on foot. Rashid and his henchman had entered the quayside tavern and ordered rooms for the night. The very moment Alejandro saw them mount the stairs to their rooms he motioned for Hector the owner to come over. He'd known Hector for a great many years, they'd sailed on the same fishing vessel for over twenty years before deciding to both settle on the Island and open their bars. Hector being a keen conversationalist had picked up more than a few words, from more than a few languages, so had been able to converse slightly with the strangers.
"Those men, the strangers who've just gone upstairs, what are they doing here?" asked Alejandro.
"They came in this morning, looking for a woman and a child. Salim, the African who works the cranes was in here talking to them. I take it he directed them to Cotillo then?" said Hector.
"Hector I need to know, did they say anything about where they were going?"
"Oh yes, they were in a stinking mood, complaining that they now had to wait for the Tenerife boat. I tried to explain that it sailed tomorrow afternoon, but it still didn't cheer them up. Oh, they also mentioned something about La Gomera, why on earth would they want to go there, it's virtually deserted?"
Alejandro breathed a sigh of relief, so they'd believed the story Pedro had spun them. Good. That would definitely buy Samia and Hamid plenty of time, the Gomera boats only sailed once a week, only docking for a short time to unload. By the time they realized they'd hit a dead end it would be too late. They'd be stuck on Gomera for a week before they had any chance of getting back to Tenerife.
"Hector my friend, I need to know when they've gone, when they've left the island, could you send your son Juan with word the minute they've gone," Alejandro asked.
"Of course, but what's this all about?" Hector quizzed.
"Oh believe me, for the moment you're safer not knowing," Alejandro laughed. "Oh, and another thing, please also let me know the moment any more strangers arrive.
"No problem, " laughed Hector. "Then perhaps we could sit down over a bottle of wine and you'll tell me what all this has been about."
"That's a promise," said Alejandro. "Thankyou my friend."
Two weeks of constant travel had taken their toll on Ardeth Bay's patience, usually he had it in spades, but this sitting around, waiting, had pushed him to the very limit. The other passengers on the boat that was now nearing the Rock of Gibraltar had tried in the past weeks to make conversation with the forlorn looking man, but after being answered with a range of one word replies they'd all but given up. All had noticed his frustration each time the boat had docked. His look of despair at every delay tugging at some of the womens heartstrings. What could have such a beautiful man in such turmoil they'd thought.
After leaving the Medjai camp, Ardeth had headed for Cairo, taking a boat up the Nile until reaching Alexandria. He then switched boats and made for Spain. Unfortunately, the earliest boat by days had been a cruiser that had proceeded to make stops at half the ports in the Mediterranean Sea. The only comfort to him was that now he was only half a day away from Cadiz. But what would he find when he got to Cadiz? Would they even be there? Had Lock Na's men even made a move yet?
Ardeth knew that Hassan had given instructions to Samia to head for Fuerteventura should anything go wrong, but had she remembered them, had it been possible for her to reach the place? Had she even tried? or the worst scenario, had they even been given the chance? All of these thoughts weighed heavily on his mind as the boat sailed closer and closer to Cadiz, leaving him with nothing more to do than pace constantly up and down the deck.
On arrival in Cadiz, Ardeth headed straight for the address on the parchment Mohammed had given him before he'd left Egypt. Before he'd left the ship he'd quickly changed into stone colored trousers and a plain white cotton shirt, more suitable clothing for the surroundings he thought. The tattoos on his face and hands being the only thing that could draw attention to him, but he reasoned that Cadiz being a busy port they'd have seen sights more intriguing than he.
His heart sank as the taxi made it's way up the cobbled street and the house came into view. The windows were closed and barred and the small garden overgrown. It obviously hadn't been lived in for a while.
"Are you sure you have the right address," said the driver in broken English. It was the only language he and Ardeth had been able to half communicate in.
"Yes, I'm sure," Ardeth replied. "Why do you ask?"
"The pretty lady, Samia, she left with the little boy a couple of months ago," he said. "I took them to the port myself," he rambled on as the car came to a halt in front of the house.
"Did you know her?" Ardeth found himself asking.
"Si, she used to take the boy outside of the town to my uncle's stables, so he could ride the horses, she said he'd been on the back of a horse since he was less than three years old, and my how it showed."
Ardeth interrupted, "So he rides well then?" he asked, his heart almost bursting with pride.
"Oh yes, there's not many who show such skill at such a young age, It's obviously in his blood."
That one remark 'in his blood' brought Ardeth back to earth with a bump. He'd let his mind wander and in doing so was losing precious time.
"Can you wait for me, I just want to take a quick look inside the house," he said.
"Ah, are you interested in buying it now?" the driver asked.
"Something like that," replied Ardeth as he got out of the taxi and walked up the short path.
As Ardeth rounded the rear of the house, he noticed that the back door had been forced open slightly. He unsheathed the small dagger he carried strapped to his leg and readied himself for any trouble. Pushing open the door a little more, he knew by instinct that trouble had already been and gone. Making his way through the small kitchen he saw that the place had been completely ransacked, food left on the counter had long since gone mouldy and quite a few things were strewn on the floor. She'd obviously left in a great hurry.
He searched for around for a few minutes without finding any indication that Samia had left the place voluntarily. His heart was in his mouth as he looked for any traces of dried blood, anything to indicate that a struggle had taken place, and sighed in relief as he found none. The destruction had most probably taken place after Samia had left.
As he was turning to leave, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye, half hidden under a rug in the living room. He bent down and picked it up, feeling the air rush out of his body as he did so. It was a photograph, a photograph of a boy sat astride a large horse, with the same curly black hair and intense eyes his father posessed. He had such a look of joy on his face that it moved Ardeth to tears.
He slumped to the floor and leaned back against the wall, still staring at the dusty photograph. When he looked at the girl in the photo with Hamid, smiling up proudly at him, he knew this must be Samia. Ardeth was taken aback at how young she was, how despite her youth she'd taken care of his son for all these years, running from place to place hiding, never having the chance to live her own life. But when he looked more closely at the picture and studied the expression on her young face, he knew instantly that she loved his son, just as if he'd been her own. He had nothing but a great respect for her and a gratitude that knew no boundaries.
Ardeth gathered himself together and dried the few tears that still lingered on his cheeks. The shock of seeing his son for the first time in years was numbing. He'd grown so much, but then again, time didn't stand still and babies all too soon grew up into children. He brought the photo to his lips and pressed it to them before putting it in the pocket in his shirt. The pocket closest to his heart.
The driver looked at Ardeth a little strangely as he got back into the taxi. He turned around to the back seat and looked Ardeth straight in the face.
"Come to think of it," he said. "He looked just like you."
"He's my son," whispered Ardeth. "Please, I'm trusting you as a man of honor not to give this information to anyone else," he said. "They could both be in great danger if you do."
The driver nodded, he'd liked Samia and Hamid, at one point he'd wanted to get closer to Samia, wanted to court her, but she'd politely and graciously refused him, saying that she had Hamid to take care of and that in another time and another place she'd have been more than happy to be with him. He'd respected her decision, sensing that there was another underlying reason, but hadn't pushed her.
On seeing this man who now sat in his taxi and claimed to be the childs father, he suspected that he was the real reason for her refusal. The man had an air about him, an air of nobility, one of rank and stature. The tattoos only serving to enhance that. He laughed slightly as he realized it would have been no competition.
"Could you take me to the dock please," asked Ardeth, now impatient to get to the Island as quickly as was humanly possible.
"I could, but you wont get a boat to anywhere now, it's too late for today," he said.
"Then could you possibly direct me to a hotel, or somewhere I can stay for the night," Ardeth asked.
"Come on," said the driver. "I'll take you to the small Inn on the quayside, I'm sure they'll have a spare room for you."
The driver had been right and soon Ardeth was settled into a small but comfortable room. He lay on the bed and stared at the photograph once again. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep with the photo clutched tightly to his chest. The one single image of his son dancing through his dreams for the remainder of the night.
He woke early and washed and dressed quickly, tucking the photograph back into his breastpocket before heading out to the dockside. On arrival he checked with the harbormaster as to which boats were sailing that day and was further annoyed to find that the only boat going out to the Islands was one to Tenerife. The harbormaster assured him that once in Tenerife, which was only a days sail away he'd have no problems chartering a smaller boat to take him over to Fuerteventura. Money was an international language, understood everywhere.
So with a weary heart Ardeth boarded the boat for Tenerife, once again pacing the decks in frustration for hours on end. Why on earth was every obstacle against him? What forces were combining to keep him away from his son.
Once again the doubts for Hamid's, and now Samia's safety, for she had gained a special place in his heart with the devotion she'd shown to his son, returned to the surface. He'd done some travelling in his time, but this journey was taking it's toll, not only on his body, which was weary with lack of sound sleep, but on his mental state also. The only consolation he had was the one dusty photograph and it was by keeping this close to his heart that he saved some of his rapidly decreasing sanity.
As he finally got off the boat in Santa Cruz, Tenerife, he was sure he'd have no problem getting to Fuerteventura quickly, and then, all he had to do was find them. He went straight to the port office and was just about to buy the ticket when he saw two people that stopped him dead in his tracks.
"Allah, no," he cried, as Lock Na's henchmen walked down the gangplank of the ferry. He stole away from the window of the office and watched, keeping his head down and using his peripheral vision to see where they were heading, and more importantly, if they were alone. Ardeth in his newly acquired clothes faded into the background, but these two in their red robes stuck out like a sore thumb and were soon the talk of the quayside.
Ardeth watched and waited, tucking his hair down the back of his shirt as they entered the office. He quickly grabbed a wide brimmed hat from the seat at the side of him and pulled it forwards on his head, shading his face, giving the impression that he was taking a siesta. But his ears were tuned into the conversation at hand, listening sharply to every word and missing nothing.
As they left the office he breathed a sigh of relief. They'd only booked two tickets, and had been directed to a hotel where they could wait for the boat to Gomera, which didn't set sail for another five days. He put the hat back down when he was sure they'd gone.
Allah help him, he'd wanted to strike out at them, kill them stone dead where they stood, but that wouldn't help him in his quest, it would only draw attention to him and maybe have him carted off to prison. What chance did he have of finding Hamid if he was languishing in some prison cell?
He returned to the counter and purchased his ticket, thanking his luck at last that the boat for Fuerteventura was about to set sail. He ran out of the office keeping his head down and made it up the gangplank just in the nick of time. As the boat sailed out of port he hoped against all hope that the next journey he would take, would be to bring his beloved son home with him, safe and well.