The Pirate (22 page)

In that she was like her father. Again she saw him on the water skis, the muscles straining against the lead, his entire being enjoying the physical effort of skill and balance.

She lathered the soft pubic hair until the dark curls were covered with the white fluff. Then she thrust her hips forward and let the shower beat directly down on her. The tingling and the warmth ran through her. Softly, almost automatically, she stroked herself. Her orgasm and the vision of her father on skis with hips thrust forward came together, taking her by surprise. Before she could stop another orgasm shook her body. She felt shock, then anger, then disgust at herself. She was sick to even allow such thoughts. Violently she turned off the hot water and held herself rigid under the icy stream until her flesh was blue with the cold. Then she stepped from the stall, wrapping the towel around her.

It was crazy. She had never had thoughts like that before. But it was in her blood. Her mother had said so many times. She was like her father. His body ruled him; his lusts and appetites were never to be satisfied. Her mother had told them stories about him and his women. He was not a man who could ever be satisfied with one good woman. Bad blood, her mother had said in warning.

She rubbed herself dry and then, tying the towel around her, went into the barracks.

Soad, whose bed was next to her, was almost dressed. “What are you doing tonight?”

Leila reached for a robe. “Nothing. I thought I would just stay in bed and read.”

Soad began to apply her lipstick. “I’ve got a date with Abdullah and a friend of his. Why don’t you come along?”

“I don’t really feel like it.”

Soad looked at her. “Come on. It would do you good to get out.”

Leila didn’t answer. She remembered Soad on her first day here. She had come to be near her boyfriend and had told everyone how she couldn’t wait to be with him. But when he didn’t appear she hadn’t been upset. She took her female liberation seriously. Women had equal rights in this army and by now she had fucked her way through the entire camp and made no bones about it. “Cairo was never like this,” she’d say with a burst of raucous laughter.

“Tell you what,” Soad said seriously. “If you come along I’ll let you have Abdullah. He’s the best cocksman in the camp. I’ll settle for his friend.”

Leila looked at her. “I don’t think so.”

“What are you saving it for?” Soad asked. “Even if you don’t want it for yourself, it’s part of your duty. Didn’t the CO tell us that it was our responsibility to give solace and comfort to our men? I can’t imagine a better way to combine duty and pleasure all at the same time.”

Leila began to laugh. Soad has a one-track mind. “You’re fantastic,” she said. “But none of those men appeal to me.”

“You’ll never know until you try them,” Soad said. “Men can surprise you. The greatest lovers look like nothing sometimes.”

Leila shook her head.

A puzzled look came over Soad’s face. “Are you a virgin?”

Leila smiled. “No.”

“Then you’re in love.” It was a statement.

“No.”

Soad gave up. “I don’t understand you.”

That was the truest thing Soad had ever said. But how could she make the woman understand that there were things more important to her than sex?

CHAPTER 8

It was just ten minutes after reveille when the barracks door opened unexpectedly and Hamid shouted from the doorway. “Attention!”

There was a flurry of motion as the women fell into place, in front of their beds, in various stages of dress.

Hamid stepped back from the doorway and the CO entered. Her sharp dark eyes took in the entire barracks in one sweeping glance, then she walked into the center of the room followed by Hamid. The fact that some of the women were half-naked seemed to make no difference to her.

She was silent for a long moment before she spoke. Her voice was clear and emotionless. “Today will be your last day. Your training has been completed. Our work has been done. This camp will be closed and each of us assigned to duties elsewhere.”

She paused for a moment. The women did not stir, nor did they take their eyes from her face. “I am proud of you,” she said. “All of you. There have been those who have looked upon us with disdain and skepticism. They have said that women, especially Arab women, could not make good soldiers, that they were only fit for cooking, cleaning and taking care of the children. We have proved them wrong. You are members of Al-Ikhwah. You are the equal of any man in our armies. You have completed the same training as the men have and you have done as well as any of them.”

The women were still silent. The CO began again. “You will have exactly one hour to pack your personal belongings and be ready to leave. I will see each of you individually to give you your next assignment. This assignment is not, I repeat, is not to be discussed among you. It is your own, and highly secret. Any discussion of your individual assignment will be regarded as treason and will be punishable by death—for one poorly chosen confidence can cause the death of many of our comrades.”

She walked back to the door, then turned to face them. “An-nasr, I salute you. May Allah protect you.” Her hand snapped up in a salute.

“An-nasr!” they shouted, returning her salute. “Id-bah al-adu.”

The room filled with their voices as the door closed behind her.

“Something big must be in the wind.”

“This is a month earlier than we had been told.”

“Something is wrong.”

Leila didn’t speak at all. She opened her locker and began to take out the clothing she had worn on her arrival. Silently she laid her uniforms and fatigues in a neat pile on the bed. Even the brassieres and panties, shoes, boots and stockings were placed into a neat stack.

She opened the small suitcase that she had brought with her. She took out the blue jeans she had bought in France just before she came and put them on. It was then that she realized how much her body had changed. The jeans, which had once hugged her, were now big around the waist and in the seat. Even the shirt was loose, and she rolled the sleeves because they seemed to have grown longer. She tied the shirt across her waist and slipped into the soft sandals. She packed her comb, brush and cosmetics, then carefully checked the locker. It was empty. She snapped the suitcase shut.

She sat down on the bed and lit a cigarette. The other women were still debating what to take and what to leave. Soad looked across at her. “You’re wearing your own clothes?”

Leila nodded. “The CO said personal belongings. These are the only things that are mine.”

“What about the uniforms?” one of the others called.

“If they wanted us to take them they would have said so.”

“I think Leila is right,” Soad said. She turned toward her locker. “I think I won’t mind getting into my own clothes for a change.” A moment later she gasped in dismay. “Nothing fits. Everything’s too big!”

Leila laughed. “It’s not too bad.” She put out her cigarette. “Think of all the fun you’ll have getting new things.”

As she walked out of the building, the sun was coming up over the mountain. The morning air was fresh and clean. She breathed deeply.

“Ready?” Hamid’s voice came from behind her.

She turned. She was leaning against the building, the ever-present cigarette dangling from his lips. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said.

He looked at her steadily. “You’re not like the others, you know that.”

She didn’t answer.

“You didn’t have to do this. You’re rich. You could have everything you want.” The mercenary’s eyes were appraising.

“Could I? How do you know what I want?”

“You don’t believe all this empty talk, do you?” He laughed. “I’ve been through three wars. Each time it has been the same thing. The slogans, the shouting, the threats, the promises of vengeance. Then when the bullets begin to fly it’s all over. They turn and run. Only the politicians go on forever.”

“Maybe someday it will be different,” she said.

He fished another cigarette from his pocket and lit it from the butt of the other. “What do you think will happen if we take Palestine back?”

“The people will be free,” she said.

“Free of what? Free to starve like the rest of us? With all the money coming into the Arab countries now, the people are still starving.”

“That will have to be changed too.”

“Hussein, the oil sheiks, even your father and his prince, do you think they would willingly share what they have with the masses? At least now they have to do something. But if we win and there is no pressure on them, what then? Who is there to make them share? No, they will only grow richer.”

“It will be up to the people to change them.”

Hamid laughed bitterly. “I’m almost sorry to see this job finished. It was a good one. Now I’ll have to find another.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Don’t they have another assignment for you?”

“Assignment?” he laughed. “I’m a professional. I got paid. One thousand Lebanese pounds a month for this job. I don’t know any place where I can make that kind of money.”

“Surely there must be a place for you in the army?”

“For one-fifty a month I can get my ass worked off,” he said. “I prefer the Brotherhood. It pays better. They always seem to have lots of money to throw around.”

“Don’t you believe in what we’re doing?” she asked.

“Sure I do,” he said. “I just don’t believe in our leaders. There are too many of them, each busy lining his own pockets while trying to become the top dog.”

“They can’t all be like that.”

He smiled at her. “You’re young yet. You’ll learn.”

“What happened?” she asked. “Why the sudden change in plans?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. The orders came last night and the CO seemed to be as surprised as any of us. She was up all night getting things ready.”

“She’s an extraordinary woman, isn’t she?”

Hamid nodded. “Maybe if she were a man, I would have more faith in our leaders.” He looked at her quizzically. “You know you owe me something.”

“I do?” she asked, puzzled. “What?”

He gestured at the barracks behind him. “There are fourteen girls in that platoon. You’re the only one I haven’t fucked.”

She laughed. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” he said half-seriously. “Thirteen is an unlucky number. Something bad is going to happen.”

“I don’t think so.” She smiled. “Look at it this way: You have something to look forward to.”

He grinned. “I’ll strike a bargain. If we ever meet again—no matter where—we’ll do it.”

She held out her hand. “Agreed.”

They shook hands. He looked into her eyes. “You know, you’re not a bad soldier for a girl.”

“Thank you,” she said.

He glanced at his watch. “Do you think they’re ready?”

“They should be,” she said. None of them had very much to take.

He threw his cigarette down and turned and opened the barracks door. “Okay, girls,” he shouted in his field voice. “On the double!”

***

It was almost two hours before they were ushered into the CO’s headquarters. While they waited, the camp was being dismantled before their eyes. Men and trucks were moving everything—beds, clothing, weapons—out of the building. Already the camp was beginning to look like a ghost town. And with doors and windows open, the desert sand was swirling in, anxious to reclaim its own.

The women stood outside headquarters watching truck after loaded truck pull away. The headquarters building itself was the last to be dismantled. Furniture was being moved out as they were ushered in.

Following alphabetical order, Leila was the first to be called. She closed the door behind her, stepped to the CO’s desk and saluted smartly. “Al Fay reporting.” Somehow it didn’t seem as proper in blue jeans as it had in uniform.

The CO returned her salute wearily. “At ease. An-nasr,” she said. She looked down at the sheet of paper before her. “Al Fay, is that your name?”

“Yes, ma’am.” For the first time Leila thought of her as a woman. The CO was tired.

“You are to return to your mother’s home in Beirut,” she said. “You will be contacted there and directed to your next assignment.”

“Is that all, ma’am? Nothing else?”

“That is all at this time. But don’t worry, you’ll hear from us.”

“But how will I know? Isn’t there a code name or some way that I will be sure of—”

The CO interrupted. “When the call comes, you will know,” she said. “For now, your assignment is to go home and wait. You will not involve yourself or go near any political groups no matter how sympathetic they are to our cause. You will keep your own counsel and remain in the normal social confines of your family. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The CO looked at her for a moment. She seemed about to say more but then she stopped. “Good luck,” she said. “Dismissed.”

Leila saluted, executed a smart about-face and left the room. She walked through the outer office. The other women looked at her with curiosity, but she didn’t speak.

There was a truck parked outside. Hamid gestured toward it. “Your limousine awaits.”

Leila nodded, silently climbed in the back and sat down on one of the rows of benches. It took less than a half-hour before the truck was filled.

They were peculiarly silent. Suddenly they were all strangers, bound by their orders, afraid that they might unwittingly reveal something.

It was Soad who broke the tension. “You know,” she said in her coarse Egyptian voice, “I’m really going to miss this place. It wasn’t so bad and I got some of the best fucking I ever had.”

With that, they all laughed and began to talk at once. There were so many things they had to remember and joke about—the accidents, the mistakes, even the hardships. A half-hour passed and still the truck hadn’t moved.

“What are we waiting for?” one of the women called to Hamid.

“The CO,” he replied. “She’ll be out in a minute.”

He was right. A moment later she appeared in the doorway behind him. The woman fell silent as they stared at her.

It was the first time any of them had ever seen her out of uniform. She was wearing an ill-fitting French tailored wool suit. The jacket was too short, the skirt too long. The seams of her stockings were crooked and she walked uncomfortably on the high-heeled shoes she wore to give her height. Somehow the commanding presence she had in uniform had disappeared. Even her face looked pudgy and uncertain.