Chapter 19
Ziad sipped the coffee. He winced.
"This coffee is awful."
He took another sip.
"Seriously, you'd think you could afford better coffee."
The man sitting across from Ziad sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"You're not here to enjoy coffee, you know," he said in heavily accented English.
"Oh, I know. Complaining is somewhat of a hobby of mine. I like to practice my hobbies in unexpected places. This bleak interrogation room serves nicely."
Ziad gestured at the room, as if the man didn't know it already.
"See the bright halogen lightbulb? Absolutely necessary. Although I hear the CIA has been using Fluorescents lately, so you may want to jump on the bandwagon and pay up for some of those."
The man sighed again.
"Mr. Jarrah, please, I'm here to ask you questions, not listen to your witty banter."
"Oh, I know. Ask away, Mr. Interrogator."
"Please tell me the events of the last month. In order, preferably. So we can better understand these... Rather unusual events that have been occurring."
Ziad leaned back in his uncomfortable metal chair and smiled.
"Well, where should I start... Ah! Of course! The beginning. Since you know all about the Indonesia deal, well, it started when we returned to Scotland with the bodies..."
It all went to hell.
Not in the literal sense, where 'it' is somewhat indeterminate, but in the sense of "oh shit somebody just discovered me hiding bodies."
That's never a situation you want to be in. And this is the situation in which Ziad and Shlomi found themselves.
"Um..." said Ziad.
"This does not look promising, does it?" replied Shlomi.
"No. No it does not. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact." responded Ziad.
Staring at them from the trees were a dozen large and dangerous looking wizards wearing uniforms. All had their wands raised and pointing unshakingly at Ziad and Shlomi.
The leader of the group stepped forward and declared with officiousness, "What the bloody hell is going on here?"
"We're... Um..." mumbled Ziad.
"We're most definitely not burying bodies." said Shlomi definitively.
"Good, 'cause it looks like you're burying bodies," said on of the less creative members of the men.
"Johnson, why don't you shut up and let somebody who scored a passing grade on the Auror test ask the questions? Eh? Good."
Johnson stepped back, grumbling.
"Now," continued the one who had passed the Auror test, "Put your hands in the air and step forward. We're going to take you into the Ministry."
Ziad said, "What happens if we don't raise our hands? And what authority do you have?"
Johnson stepped forward, "We've got a load of wands, that's our authority!"
"Shut the hell up Johnson. You're bloody stupid."
The leader turned back to Ziad.
"Our authority is that we've been deputized. We may not be full aurors yet but we've been given temporary arresting power, due to all the troubles lately."
Ziad nodded. "I understand. Well, I'm putting my hands up, okay?" Then, in whispered Arabic, he said, "When you raise your hand, grab mine, we're getting out of here."
Shlomi nodded.
Ziad raised his hands, and Shlomi did the same. Shlomi grabbed Ziad's hand and-
-They were whisked off into the nether and deposited back in the empty jungle clearing in East Timor.
"That was close." said Shlomi.
"Yup. Let's... Let's not do that again." said Ziad, as he dropped the dirty old sock that had served as a portkey.
"Well... We're back in East Timor." said Shlomi.
"Indeed we are. Now what?"
"Frankly, I have no idea. You can't exactly go back to school now, can you?"
"I don't know. I think the discovery of a half-dozen dead bodies outside the school would result in an increase in security, meaning it will likely be near-impossible for me to return, even if they aren't able to find out it was me, specifically." said Ziad.
"This sucks."
"Yup."
Ziad wiped sweat off his forehead.
"These suits are, well, ill-suited for this environment. It's too damn hot. Let's go somewhere cooler."
"I'm with you on that one."
Ziad removed his suit-jacket and turned it into a portkey.
"Grab on."
Shlomi touched the jacket and they were jerked half-way around the world to a street outside a large palacial building. A vast open blue sky stretched all around them, ending abruptly in the city that surrounded the two travelers.
"Where the hell are we?" asked Shlomi, his encyclopaedic knowledge of geography for once failing him.
"Dushanbe, Tajikistan. I saw a picture, once. I think it's about as far away from everything as it's possible to be."
"Damn right." said Shlomi wonderingly.
Unfortunately, they weren't very far away from the gunfire that broke out down the street.
Bullets whizzed overhead as a large tank rounded the corner of the street, followed by a few dozen uniformed, helmeted, and heavily armed soldiers.
"Shit." said Shlomi.
"I concur." said Ziad.
They ran into an alley. Unfortunately, another squad of soldiers was waiting in that alley. They pointed their rifles and yelled at Ziad and Shlomi, who rather promptly dropped to the ground, hands behind their heads.
"Why is everything terrible right now?" said Ziad.
"I don't know, man. I don't know."
The squad of soldiers prodded them to their feet and led them through a maze of alleys and streets, which showed the effects of heavy fighting. The soldiers were conversing, but Ziad couldn't pinpoint the language.
"It's Russian." said Shlomi.
"Oh."
Eventually, Ziad and Shlomi were led to a hastily erected base, teeming with soldiers and vehicles. A hundred lumpy bodybags lay in an orderly row outside the barbed wire entrance.
Ziad and Shlomi were led into a fenced-off enclosure that had a few dozen scruffy-looking men already in, hands clenched firmly behind their heads. A squad of soldiers sat or stood in one of the corners of the enclosure, weapons not quite pointing at the prisoners, but looking like they definitely could at a moments notice.
Shlomi spoke to the soldiers in Russian. They responded.
Ziad waited patiently while Shlomi carried on a rather lengthy conversation with the soldiers.
One of the soldiers eventually got up and left the enclosure and entered a tent.
"These are Russian soldiers. Apparently you got us involved in the fancy-fun Tajik Civil War."
"Goddamn wonderful. I'm so bloody smart, aren't I?"
"I applaud you."
A massive man left the tent, accompanied by the soldier. He wore a uniform with more stuff on it, indicating high rank.
The two soldiers walked up to the fence. The low-ranking soldier gestured Shlomi and Ziad over to the fence.
"So... What is an Israeli and a Lebanese doing in Tajikistan?" said the huge officer.
"We were intending to sell weapons to the Tajik military." said Shlomi.
"Sure." said the Russian officer. "What are your names?"
Shlomi answered first, "I am Oshri Cohen."
Ziad answered second, "I am... uh... Omar al-Shariff."
The officer nodded. "Very believable. Are you sure you are not Hollywood actors?"
Ziad and Shlomi glanced at each other before deciding, "Yeah, pretty sure."
The officer chuckled, "I am Colonel Yuri Perminov. My men are the 92nd Motorized Rifle Regiment, of the 201st Motor Rifle Division, Russian Army. But of course, I'm sure you already knew that."
Colonel Perminov looked pensive for a moment before saying, "I would believe your story, and send you to prison in Russia, were it not for one curious little thing. See, my men tell me you simply appeared in the street in front of the presidential palace, out of thin air. As if by magic."
The Colonel leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "My men don't speak English, but it is best not to say this too loudly. My daughter, she is currently at a special school called Durmstrang. Do you see where this is going?"
Ziad nodded, "I do see where this is going. I attended Hogwarts."
Perminov smiled, "Were you there for the Triwizard tournament? My daughter went, but did not get selected to compete, unfortunately. She met Harry Potter!"
Ziad nodded again, "I was indeed there," he lied, "Perhaps I met your daughter?"
"Probably, probably. This is not important. I must talk to you in more detail." He spoke briefly to the soldiers at the gate, who allowed Ziad and Shlomi to exit the enclosure and finally take their hands from their heads. They were led into Colonel Perminovs tent, where they sat in front of his desk.
"Now, let's get down to business." the Colonel said.
"Gladly." replied Shlomi.
"I want to make use of your powers to smuggle weapons into Afghanistan. Despite the Soviet's failure to control the country a decade ago, my superiors in Moscow still eye the region with hunger. They seem to not have read their history books well, but alas, orders are orders."
The Colonel leaned forward. "The Russian government still, quite secretly of course, has been working to upset the Taliban from control of Afghanistan and install a Russian puppet leader. Moscow then wants to extend the Russian empire deep into Central Asia once more, and, as if it was the 19th century, obtain the riches of India."
The Colonel laughed, "A silly goal, to be sure. But like I said, these are my orders. Russia is about to send weapons, money, and training instructors to rebel groups in the northern mountains just south of the Tajik border, in Afghanistan. That's why Russia sent soldiers to Tajikistan in the first place. If I may speak frankly, if we didn't use your magic, these plans could never come to fruition. It would simply be too dangerous to smuggle weapons through conventional means. But with portkeys or apparition, you can get everything necessary to destroy the Taliban and accomplish Moscow's ridiculous goals."
Ziad was, to say the least, rather stunned.
"That's... That's... Um..."
"-Quite a plan," finished Shlomi, "We'd be happy to help."
"WHA-... " Ziad began. Shlomi kicked his foot. "Ahem... Yes, of course. Happy."
The man across the desk from Ziad leaned forward and refilled Ziad's coffee mug yet again.
"So far it is quite an interesting tale. Although, I'll admit, you haven't gotten to the really interesting part yet."
Ziad chuckled, "If you'd let me talk, I'll get there. But first I'd like some donuts. Isn't that the law, or something?"
Author's Note:
I sincerely apologize for the delay. The last weeks have been, to put it mildly, crushingly busy. Term papers out the wazoo, tests, exams, you name it, I did it. It was exhausting.
This one is rather short, but I'm way too tired to type anything else tonight, so I'll just post this.