I was at the Kerrisdale Arena, lining up a slap shot. We were in sudden-death overtime, and all of my teammates were in the penalty box, cheering me on. The other team was lined up in front of me, ready to defend their goal. There seemed to be rather a lot of them, and strangely, they were wearing turbans instead of helmets and in their hands they carried AK-47's instead of hockey sticks. Curious.
It wasn't until a camel went skating by that I began to suspect that I was dreaming. Rationality takes a back-step, and in the moments between realizing that I was dreaming and waking up, I figured that I'd better take my shot while I could.
I swung my stick back and gave it all I had. The puck burst into flames as it soared toward the goal. The other team lifted their guns and fired at it, but they all missed. The small, smoking missle flew unerringly toward the goal.
The goalie leapt out of the way as it burned toward him. It struck the net, but instead of burning through, the net stretched like a rubber band and sent the puck flying back toward me. I watched it grow larger and larger, but I couldn't move out of the way. My legs were buried in sand.
Sand? No, no... this wasn't how it was supposed to go! Who's dream was this, anyway?
Unbreakable Camels
part three, Dangerous Goods
The sound of an angry voice pulled Mac from the dark, comfortable place where he had been lying. "This is not part of deal that I make with your boss!" The man was speaking broken English with a heavy Middle-eastern accent.
Mac opened his eyes and looked around before he moved. It was dark, but he could see a line of light coming in between the edge of the curtain and the wall. Moving carefully to avoid making the cot creak too loudly, he rose and peered out of the crack.
Tony was talking to a short, stout man with dark skin. They were sitting at the table, glasses and an open bottle between them. Tony poured the man a drink, saying, "Well, I'm amending that deal. Besides, you owe me one, Alfie... remember that shipment of ladies undergarments I had sent here from the States just for you... tell me, did her husband ever catch you two spooning?"
The man called Alfie grumbled in his native language, but he clicked his glass against Tony's in a silent toast. It became obvious to Mac that this was probably just a friendly argument between confederates. He gave a silent sigh of relief, but then his breath caught in his throat at what he heard next.
"Smuggling underwear into Afghanistan is lot less risky than try sneak American out under Capitan Rafe's very large nose! This man has a price on head... very big! And if I am spotted... ooh, my head it will be-- displayed on pole over Rafe's private latrine! You ask much for one simple favor, Antony."
"Tell me again... who was that woman married to, Alfie? Prince Abu-something-or-other, wasn't it? You call that 'less risky'? Ha! If he'd seen you with her, it wouldn't've been your head that he'd stick up on a pole, you know. It would've been your..."
"Enough! You have make your point!" Alfie interrupted hastily. "But what really you know about this man, this MacAver? What if he is spy?"
"If he is... so what? He's not spying on me-- or on you! If a piece of garbage like Rafe wants him dead, then that makes him my hero!" Tony drained his glass and poured another. "Will you do it or not?"
"What choice do you give me? None!" Alfie grumbled. "When?"
"I'm not sure yet. He's still asleep. Once I've talked to him I'll know more. Just plan to make the pick-up like we've discussed, and avoid Rafe's men for now. I'm supposed to meet with His Holiness later tonight."
"Brrr! Better you than me, my friend! That man has the eyes of reptiles," Alfie said with a shiver. He drained his glass. "You going to need lift, yes?"
"Nah, I'll take the tumbler."
"Fine. I'll see you tomorrow then. Don't get head shot off, please," Alfie implored.
"Awww, Alfie... I didn't know you cared!"
"I don't!" Alfie said roughly, but added with a grin, "If you get killed I don't get paid!"
"I'd miss you, too." Tony laughed, throwing Alfie his hat. "And don't spook the camel this time! It took me an hour to catch him when he ran off after you landed!"
Alfie's grumbling faded as he walked away. Tony poured himself another whiskey, but sat and stared at it without drinking.
He waited until the sounds of Alfie's exit faded completely. "You can come out now, Mac," Tony announced, swirling his drink in the glass.
Mac moved the curtain aside, then stepped around the rack of gas-masks that blocked the entrance. "You heard me?"
Tony laughed. "Yeah, there's not much that goes on in the hollow tin-can that I can't hear. Ol' Alfie there-- Abdul aFeyd is his real name-- he's been flying a chopper for so long that he can't hear half of what he says himself!" Tony swallowed the bourbon in one shot. "How much did you hear?"
"That you plan to have him fly me out of the country," Mac saw no reason to hedge the truth. "And that you're planning to meet with someone named Rafe whom, I gather, is not an altogether pleasant person."
Tony laughed loudly. "Not quite. Oh, Rafe is a goat of a human being... that much is true! But he is not who I am meeting tonight. He's the one who searched this quarter of the desert for about ten hours after you disappeared under his nose yesterday. Whatever you did to him... he's got it bad for you!"
"How much money is he offering?" Mac walked up to the table, but he didn't sit down. Instead, he put himself through a series of stretches. His back muscles felt like a Gordian Knot after sleeping for so long on an army-issue cot.
Tony capped the liquor bottle, and then put his feet up on the table. "A thousand American dollars. That will get the rat-catcher's attention, but it's not sweet enough to interest me. I don't do business with the likes of him. I'll leave that to His Holiness."
"He's your boss, huh?" Mac asked. "Does he know I'm here?"
"No." Tony stood up, looking uncomfortable. "I'm hoping that you'll be out of here before I have to tell him anything. Alfie agreed to take you to the nearest American Embassy. You can get out of this country before Rafe raises the price high enough to tempt Alfie." He opened a cabinet that turned out to be a makeshift oven. Using a towel, he took something out of it.
"I'm not leaving," Mac said softly.
"Why the hell not?" Tony turned around, two MRE's in his hands. "Chicken or... chicken?" he asked, squinting at the labels.
Mac accepted one package. "Thanks. As long as it doesn't taste like sand, it sounds good."
"The wonders of chemical heating! I can't risk a stove... the smoke might be spotted. And besides-- lighting a fire around all this ordinance?-- forget about it!"
Talk was suspended while Mac ate. After he finished his MRE, Tony pushed the second one toward him, too. "G'on, I got a crateful," he said. "You're as skinny as that camel of yours. Who is eating me out of palm-leaves and compost, I might add!"
Mac laughed. "Dingo makes efficient use out of anything edible, and a lot of things that aren't!"
Tony waited until Mac was done eating and had drained his water bottle twice. "So, what's this about you not leaving... after I went to all the trouble of arranging it?"
Mac frowned. "I don't want you to think that I'm ungrateful, Tony, but I can't leave just yet."
"And again I ask... 'Why the hell not?' What are you doing here, anyway?"
Mac smiled, "You don't want to know."
Tony rolled his eyes. "Sure... throw my own words back in my face! That's gratitude!" He seemed more pleased than annoyed. "So, we both got secrets. Just tell me this-- honestly-- you aren't here to bust me, are you? You're not a cop or anything, right?"
"I am not a cop, and I am not here to bust you," Mac said.
"Good," said Tony, reaching for his liquor bottle again.
"But you might be able to help me find who I am after," Mac added.
Tony froze in the act of pouring. "Be careful, Mac," he said softly. "There are lines that it would cost me my life to cross."
Mac nodded. "Syndicate, right?" Tony's eyes widened slightly, but Mac raised his hand to keep him calm. "I'd already guessed as much. No one else has the capitol to run an operation like this. But like I said, I'm not with the Justice Department or Interpol. I'm looking for a traitor to our government. You may be a smuggler, Tony, but I think that you're also a patriot. Will you tell me what you can?"
Tony nodded. "But it won't be much," he warned.
"That's okay. I already have an idea who I'm looking for. Rafe's men have been chasing me for a while, ever since we fouled up a little kidnapping caper that he tried a few weeks ago. A team was sent in to rescue his hostages, and I was given the task of learning who was feeding him information from the Pentagon. I've tracked him down to a small city not far from here. He's an American, but he can probably pass off as European very easily. He's high-profile, in a position where he's trusted by the local government. Now, how many people like that can there be?"
Tony looked dazed. "Not too many, Mac. Only one, actually."
"You know who I'm talking about?" Mac asked excitedly. "Can you tell me who it is?"
"Mac," Tony said, drinking straight from the bottle, "I think you got a chopper to catch tomorrow."