The Hostage Chapter Three
Martin was two weeks shy of graduation from West Point when he had to fly back to Chicago to attend his father's funeral. Martin, Sr. had passed away suddenly from a severe embolism in his brain. Martin stayed with his mother, Janina, for a few days after the funeral, and then they flew back together for his graduation.
During the few days he spent in Chicago, he and his mother had a visitor. It was Janina's uncle, her father's brother, from Saudi Arabia. They were both shocked to see him because Janina had no contact with her family back home at all, except for one letter she had received from her sister when her father died. Nevertheless, they were cordial and hospitable to the man. Ibrahim only stayed a couple of hours, but he made it quite clear that Martin's place was as a soldier in Allah's army and not the United States Army. He admonished Martin to honor his dead grandfather. He gave Martin a card, and said, "I know you will do the right thing. Here's where you can reach me when you see an opportunity to serve Allah."
During his stay, Janina was polite and stayed in control of herself, but as soon as he left, she began to scream. She was hysterical and Martin had great difficulty calming her down.
"I hate them," she said. "If your father hadn't rescued me, I'd be dead."
"What do you mean?" Martin asked. He was appalled. His mother had never spoken of her life back in Saudi Arabia until now."
"They treat women worse than pigs," she started to explain. "Once my veil accidently slipped from my face. We were out in public and I was only sixteen. I adjusted it quickly, but when we got home, my father beat me until I lost consciousness. This is a warning,' he said. One more indiscretion like that, and I will kill you. You acted like a whore.' I lived in a constant state of fear. I celebrated when I heard of his death through my sister."
"When I was eighteen, I got a clerical job at the oil company where your father worked. We fell desperately in love." She smiled remembering those days. "I mentioned my growing feelings to my father. He said that if I married outside the faith, he would kill me, and it would be considered justifiable by the community. When I told your father how much my father opposed our marriage, we got married secretly, and he spirited me out of the country one day on the company airplane. What gall Ibrahim has to try to recruit you for his murderous plans."
During his growing up years, Janina had instructed Martin in the tenets of her faith, but she never encouraged him to embrace Islam. In fact, she encouraged him to embrace Martin, Sr.'s faith. Unfortunately, Martin, Sr. did not believe in God, so Martin never really felt a part of any religion. He attended Protestant services at West Point, just because it was mandatory to attend any religious service, and to be one of the boys. However, there was one thing that kept him apart, and would never allow him to be one of the boys.
When he graduated from The Point he was still a virgin. He knew since middle school that he was gay, but he could never act on it. He had no interest in women, and he remained a virgin until he settled in at his first duty station in California. There he became friendly with another graduate from his class. They knew each other, of course, but had never buddied around at West Point. Here at the base, however, they had a common bond, having graduated together, and they became close friends.
On the long Labor Day weekend, they decided to drive to San Francisco and celebrate the holiday there. They checked into a hotel. As soon as they were alone together, there was no doubt in either of their minds what they both wanted. They just simply read their desires in their faces. They undressed and fell into bed without either having said a word to the other. They spent the entire weekend in the hotel room. It turned out that the other soldier was a virgin too, and they were both intent on making up for lost time. They were able to enjoy each other for over a year after that wonderful weekend, and then they were issued orders which separated them.
A short time earlier, Spenser had been called into the office of the base commander. He was told that he was being deployed to Afghanistan because he spoke Arabic, and his services would be vital as a translator. Martin never questioned his orders, but for some strange reason, he thought about his mother's Uncle Ibrahim.
He took a commercial flight to Northwest Florida Regional Airport, and from there he was to fly on a military transport to his ultimate destination. He was just settling into his seat, when a friendly accented voice said, "Hello Martin. It's so nice to see you again." He looked up into the icy black eyes of Uncle Ibrahim. Martin had an uneasy feeling, but he shook his uncle's hand, and said, "Nice to see you too. Quite a coincidence, isn't it?" Martin did not delude himself for one moment that this was a coincidence.
After they were seated and the plane lifted off on its flight to New York, Ibrahim started to talk to Spenser in Arabic. "I understand that you are going to Afghanistan as a translator." Spenser was shocked. How the hell did he know that?
"So?" he asked in English.
"Speak Arabic. You should practice," Ibrahim said in Arabic.
"I don't need practice," Martin retorted in English. He actually exaggerated his Midwestern accent.
"As you wish," his uncle replied in English.
"What's on your mind, Uncle," Martin tried sounding polite. He didn't feel like being polite after what his mother had revealed to him.
"This is your opportunity to serve Allah. I am sure there will be many things you will learn that would serve our cause well, should we be aware of them."
"I'm sure you are correct Uncle. But what makes you think that I would do such a thing? More importantly, why should you trust me, and why should I trust you?"
"I trust you because you are a true son of Allah. Your father had no religion and your mother taught you hers. Your attendance at church at the Academy was mandatory. I know your heart wasn't in it."
"How the hell do you know so much about me?"
"We have been keeping you and your parents under surveillance since you were born." Suddenly Martin had a disquieting thought. Could his father's embolism not have been an embolism at all? He shuddered at the thought.
"I know that this is a big decision for you to make, but I will give you my card again, and I want you to think long and hard about where your loyalties lie." Ibrahim turned his back to his nephew, and they never spoke again until the end of the trip. As they left the plane, Martin's Uncle said to him, "It would be wise for you to consider that we are aware of your hotel stays with that other Lieutenant." His uncle might just as well have hit him with a ten ton sack of concrete, but Martin kept his composure. He did not answer, but walked quickly away from his uncle.
All Martin had with him was a carry-on bag. Even though he had no luggage, he literally ran to the baggage claim, where someone was to meet him. He immediately spotted an air force staff sergeant who was holding a placard with his name on it. He approached the sergeant, and the man saluted Martin smartly. They exchanged a few swift words, and Martin was led to a private parking area where the two men boarded a Jeep and the sergeant drove to Eglin Air Force Base. It appeared that Martin was to fly to Afghanistan in an air force transport.
Upon arrival in Afghanistan, Martin was escorted to his final destination by a good looking young sergeant. He saluted Martin and said, "I'm Sgt. Young, Lieutenant. We have about a two hour drive ahead of us. Is there something you need to do at this airport before we head out?"
"I wouldn't mind a good long pee, if that's alright with you."
"Of course. I should do the same before we leave."
Along the way, Sgt Young engaged Martin in animated conversation about what life would be like for him in Afghanistan. By the end of trip, Martin was calling Sgt. Young, Jim, and Jim was calling him Martin. But, when other people were around they addressed each other formally.
Martin expected to arrive at a big compound, housing prisoners of war whom he would interrogate. Instead Jim drove them to a deserted village. They stopped in front of an old shack. "We're here," Jim said. The two men went inside. There was an army major sitting at a small desk, and a corporal was taking notes as the major dictated. The major smiled broadly when Martin came in. Martin saluted him, and he introduced himself as Major Jordan Carter. The two officers shook hands, and the major asked Jim and the corporal to leave them alone.
"I can see you are looking rather perplexed," Carter said. "Let me fill you in on things quickly. Interrogating these guys is useless. They won't tell us a thing. You can't crack religious fanatics. They want us to kill them so they can fly straight to paradise. If we try to use, shall we say, more persuasive means of interrogations, the outside world brands us as barbarians. They seem to forget all the terrorist attacks on America, Israel, and I don't know how many other countries. The World Trade Center is like ancient history to these bleeding hearts. They fail to see that if we can break these scumbags by any means, we may well be saving hundreds of UN and American lives."
Carter paused and gazed at Martin. He was trying to read something in Martin's face, but Martin remained stoic.
"We have formulated a plan, but we need help and you have the perfect profile to be the man we need," Carter continued.
"What is that, sir?"
"I'll try to digest it for you. For two or three months we want you at the POW camp. You will conduct questioning in Arabic and try to gain the trust of the prisoners, if at all possible. During that time, you will make snide remarks about your superiors and their disrespect for Islam. Let them know that you are fed up with the non believers. Then you will help two or three of them escape, and you will defect with them. Our soldiers will carefully avoid firing anywhere we know you might be. You will try to capture one of our own. If you can't, we will arrange a capture for you. You will make those phony video tapes, showing how well taken care of your hostage is. They always hide the hostages and their captors in some remote spot. A courier picks up the film to be aired. We will be constantly observing you, and we will follow the courier to their headquarters, where, God willing, we'll capture, or kill if need be, their big guns."
Martin did not say a word. He remained perfectly silent. Finally Carter asked, "Are you in? We can't force you."
Martin reached into his wallet and pulled out a card. "I can make it easier than you think," he said. "This is my uncle's card. All I need to do is call him after I have been at the interrogation camp for a few weeks. I'll tell him I'm planning on defecting, because I can't stand how the prisoners are being treated and the total disrespect for Islam. He'll help me infiltrate the enemy camp. He'll revel in it. He has been trying to enroll me in the Army of Allah for some time now."
Carter stood up and shook Martin's hand. "Good man," he said.
To be continued...