Huntsville, Alabama
“Zak?”
“Yes. Who is this?” replied the DIA agent.
“I thought you would have recognized my voice, I know it’s been a few years!”
Zak’s stomach had lurched on hearing his name and had just prayed it wasn’t who he feared it was. However, the more the voice spoke, the more Zak knew his worst fears were well founded. It was ‘The Sheikh’.
“I can’t talk just now.”
“Why ever not?” asked the Sheikh.
“I’m in the office, there are other agents around,” he whispered.
The Sheikh did not respond and the line went quiet. Zak visibly relaxed.
A hand on his shoulder made him jump.
“Sorry, I thought that was you,” said the man as Zak turned to face the owner of the hand.
Zak froze as he looked into the face of a man he had never seen before but a voice that chilled him to the core. The Sheikh had obviously followed him. Zak was not in the office but sitting in a booth of a small roadside diner.
Zak tried to explain why he was not the office as he had said but the Sheikh waved his hand as though it were irrelevant.
Zak looked at the man whom he knew adorned governments’ Most Wanted lists around the world. Although, of course, the lists showed a silhouette where a face should be. Nobody had ever even given a description, let alone a photo. Zak had expected a battle hardened, tough, bearded, Osama-like character but The Sheikh was none of these. In fact, the Sheikh would not have looked out of place adorning the front cover of GQ magazine. More Arab Prince than Arab terrorist.
“I need your help.”
“Of course,” replied Zak. It would not cross his mind to do anything but assist a request, particularly as he knew the request was serving his spiritual homeland.
“Come, I will explain as we drive.” The Sheikh looked down at Zak’s plate, his lunch was only half eaten.
Zak quickly threw his napkin across the unfinished meal but it was too late.
“I fear you have spent too much time with the Americans,” said the Sheikh, shaking his head in disappointment. “Bacon?” He looked Zak in the eye and led him towards the car park, his head still shaking.
Zak felt like a five-year-old child chastised by a disappointed parent. As he walked towards the rental car, the Sheikh handed him the keys and climbed in the passenger seat. Zak was driving.
“Where to?”
“The airport, I have a plane waiting.”
“But, my office, they are expecting me back.”
“Well, you’d better tell them not to.”
“When will I be back?”
“You’ll be back when we’re finished.”
“How long will it take?”
“As long as it takes.” The Sheikh smiled. He could keep this up for hours.
Zak got the gist and stopped asking silly questions. He called his office and told them he wouldn’t be back that afternoon. He’d worry about it the next day, when, and if, that came. He was getting a very strong notion that he would never be back.