CHAPTER 1
They reached the coast at midnight. The two military trucksturned off the main highway onto a neglected gravel track whichwound through rows of orange trees. From where he sat perchedin the back of the second truck, Sami saw the fruit reflected in theheadlights like glowing yellow eyes.
After bumping slowly around deep potholes, the trucks pulledup at a cluster of five old wooden huts around a clearing. In a hugeopen-sided shed, empty wooden crates were stacked untidily fromfloor to ceiling.
Sami still felt sick from the winding drive down the mountain.He had sat on the men's rucksacks and kept a tight grip on the threerubber dinghies beside him as the truck lurched around the tightbends. He'd had to take slow deep breaths to stop himself fromthrowing up.
Captain Baqar, the leader of the Fidayeen Commandos, jumpeddown from the first truck and looked around. A short, bear-likeman with a temperament to match, he took every opportunity toassert his authority.
'Everyone out,' he yelled in Arabic. 'I want an armed guardwatching the trucks! These bloody locals, I don't trust them.'
The commandos climbed out of the two trucks and stretchedtheir legs after the long drive. One of the officers, a tall, lean-facedman, pointed at the shacks across the clearing. 'Move your gear intothose two huts.'
Sami helped the men unload their kitbags from the back of thetruck and helped carry bedrolls across to the huts. Captain Baqarstood smoking with the other two officers, speaking in urgent tonesabout the mission. Sami knew that their target was an oil storagedepot which supplied the northern Israeli military outposts. Itsounded as if the officers were afraid they might be detected as theyapproached the depot by sea.
After the last bag was unloaded, Sami stretched his achingback and took a deep breath. The salty air and the sound of waveswashing up on the nearby beach reminded him of his parents'home in Colombo. His father used to lead Sami and his brotheracross the railway tracks to the sand, where they would search forseashells among the rocks and run from the waves that chasedthem up the beach. Normally Sami tried not to think about hisfamily and the fact they had no idea where he was. It just depressedhim.
The captain turned to Sami. 'Don't stand around sniffing the airlike a dog. Get my bags in there and make sure we have somewhereto sleep.'
Sami picked up the captain's bedroll and rucksack and rantowards the hut. It didn't pay to be around the captain when he wasin a foul mood.
The hut door wouldn't open. Sami shoved it hard with hisshoulder. The hinges groaned as the door opened. As his eyesadjusted to the dim light he saw old faded posters of Hollywoodmovies curling on the dirty scuffed walls. A layer of fine sandcovered everything and crunched under Sami's feet as he crossedto open the window. The room smelled of rotten food and piss.Rubbish lay in the corners and a pile of unwashed plates wasstacked on the floor against the back wall.
Sami didn't want to be there. Only that morning he hadbeen called from his hut in the mountain camp and ordered toaccompany the commandos down to the Israeli border. His jobwould be unloading the boats the men would use to approach theirtarget the next night. It sounded simple but he'd heard stories fromother servants of previous raids into Israel going horribly wrong.
Sami's ribs still ached where the captain had kicked him whenSami said he didn't want to go with them down to the coast.
'You worthless piece of shit, who are you to question me?' Itwas not the first time the captain had hit him. He yelled and threwthings at all the servants in the camp.
Most of the Palestinian officers treated Sami like an animal.But it was better than that filthy Saudi gaol where they found him.Sami owed the Palestinians for getting him out of the clutches ofthe Afghan gang. He couldn't stop himself thinking about what hadhappened in gaol. It slipped into his thoughts hundreds of times aday.
The captain poked his head through the door of the hut. 'Whata goddamn shithole,' he growled. 'God, I hate this country.'
Sami kept out of the captain's reach as the man stompedtowards the back room. It looked like the fruit pickers had usedthe back room for sleeping. The room had four rows of bunk beds,each mattress rolled and tied with a cord. Sami rushed to open thetwo windows, letting in fresh air that smelt of the sea.
The captain looked around. 'This is better!' He flexed his headthis way and that to loosen his neck muscles. He grunted andpulled one of the beds closer to a window. 'Unroll it here,' he said.'And get rid of that filthy mattress. I don't want it anywhere nearme.'
The two young officers who followed the captain into the backroom looked nervous. Sami knew it was their first mission. Theireyes darted around the room, knuckles white where they clutchedtheir weapons.
Lieutenant Shafiq nodded at Sami as they passed. Not mucholder than Sami, the lieutenant reminded him of his older brother.He had the same deep-set eyes that made him look serious evenwhen he was trying to be funny.
After the officers settled in their hut, Sami sat outside on thestep. The sea breeze had picked up, rustling the leaves on the fruittrees. Sami could hear the men talking inside. He knew he shouldget some sleep but his mind was restless. He just wanted to be backin the mountains where he felt safe.
The sentry patrolling the open area walked over. 'Hey Sami,has the captain been giving you a hard time?' He had a laugh in hisvoice.
Sami waved to him. 'What do you think, my friend?'
Abdul was the youngest of the Fidayeen fighters. He used tocome to the kitchen hut in the camp and he and Sami had becomefriends. He would give them all cigarettes in return for Lebanesebread that he would smuggle away under his tunic.
Abdul grinned at Sami, and walked towards the orchards at theback of the hut.
The truck had backed up against a sloping ramp and Samiclimbed it to retrieve his bedroll and bag. The torn, old canvasbag held everything that he owned: a clean thawb and a change ofunderwear wrapped around a toothbrush and a piece of soap. In anouter pocket a plastic card identified him as an indentured servantof the Palestinians. Everyone needed some form of identification inthis security-mad country.
The canvas bag also concealed a secret: a small but growingstash of money stuffed in the lining, notes he had collected fromthe men's pockets when they threw their clothes at him for washing.Sami was determined to leave this place one day and the moneygave him hope that he would one day walk in the front door of hisparents' house.
He found a clean place to unroll his bedding on the floor of thehut and propped open the door with a piece of wood. He stretchedout but could not sleep. He tried to focus on the familiar soothingsound of the waves, but all he could think about was headingback to the mountains with the trucks after the men left on theirmission.
After lying awake for what seemed like an hour, Sami creptout of the hut. He took a few deep breaths of the salty night airand looked around for Abdul. He had to be careful. Abdul mightmistake him for a local.
The bright moon made huge balls of cotton of the high,rounded clouds. The faint glow from the city of Sidon to the northhid some of the more distant galaxies that he could normally seefrom the training camp in the mountains. Sami walked into theorchard behind the hut. He could just see the dunes throughthe trees. The lure of the sea was strong. The sound of the wavesbreaking on the beach called to him. He made his way between theorange trees, the sea breeze soft on his face.
When Sami reached the beach he lay on his back and stretchedout on the warm sand and at that moment a shooting star crossedthe sky right above him. People back home believed that a fallingstar was a bad omen, predicting death or the demise of someoneclose. But Sami's grandfather used to laugh and tell Sami that it wasa story made up by ignorant villagers.
A slow moving cloud covered the stars as tiredness finallyovertook Sami and he fell asleep, lulled by the sound of the waves.
He woke suddenly, his heart thumping. What had woken him?He remained motionless and tried to remember where he was. Thebreeze brushing his face and the whisper of the waves remindedhim.
He dug his fingers into the sand and watched a hint of dawnlighting the sky. Soon it would be time for Fajr. The men wouldwake for their morning prayers and Sami should already be busypreparing their breakfast of flatbread and hummus.
He was about to sit up when he sensed movement in the dunesto his right. With his eyes open wide to the dark, he strained tohear something. Over the sound of the surf he heard a muffledcough and a quick harsh command in a language he did notunderstand. A hot rush of fear raced through him. Breathing hard,almost gasping for air, he tried to stay calm but thought of all thearmed groups in Lebanon who would shoot first and ask questionslater.
Sami pressed himself deeper into the soft sand, hissenses screaming with fear. He lay very still, praying that hiscream-coloured thawb would be difficult to see against the whitesand. A whisper of movement came from the dunes. A line of aboutten men crossed the sand twenty metres from Sami. They walkedquietly towards the fruit pickers' huts, their feet squeaking in thesoft sand. The dark shapes, each carrying a weapon, took longminutes to pass.
Sami felt a sense of doom. He had managed to get out of theSaudi prison but had he ended up in a place even more dangerous?After a few minutes he rolled over on his stomach and liftedhis head, his heart hammering. The empty dunes lay in front ofhim, leading back towards the orchard. He scuttled like a crab,keeping low to the ground, until he reached a tree and peeredinto the orchard where the men had disappeared. He had to findsomewhere to hide.
Then something on the other side of the beach caught his eyeand he realised it was another group of men trudging up the sandtowards him. Sami gathered the thawb above his knees and dartedinto the orchard. A faint glimmer of light from one of the huts toldhim that the commandos were already waking for their prayers.
He stopped and rested his hand against the trunk of an orangetree, his breath still jagged. A strange metallic smell made himlook down. At his feet a body lay crumpled, the head twisted at anunnatural angle.
Blood stained the ground under the man's head and in a terriblemoment, Sami saw that it was his friend, Abdul. Oh no! Oh no! Hisheart thumped even louder. He was cold with sweat.
Even as he tried to scramble around the body, Sami couldn'tkeep his eyes off the dead sentry. This is bad, he thought. This is bad.
Flashes of light and explosions came from the camp, lighting upthe fruit trees with an unearthly glow. Gunfire erupted within theorchard. Sami crouched on the sandy soil, his body shaking.
Out in the open, beside the dead sentry, Sami made an easytarget. He scurried deeper into the orchard but the only places tohide were low piles of pruned branches. Bursts of automatic firestill sounded from the compound. A voice called from over nearthe gravel track to the camp. Another voice answered not far fromwhere Sami crouched.
The burning trucks created a fiery pool of light. Sami's eyessearched the darkness, registering a flicker of movement. A manin a dark uniform, carrying a sub-machine gun, emerged fromthe direction of the huts, spotted Sami right away and in a singlemotion lifted his weapon and fired.
Bullets whistled past Sami and thudded into the tree trunk. Ashout from the man was answered from inside the orchard. Samiscrambled back the way he came, keeping the tree between him andhis attacker, his flesh cold with the anticipation of being hit. A pausein the gunfire made him look over his shoulder. He could not seeanything, but knew the man would be searching for him. Sami was nostranger to trouble but he had never experienced someone out to killhim. He turned to go deeper into the orchard but tripped and crashedto the ground. It was Abdul. In his haste he had not seen the body.
Abdul's assault rifle lay on the ground, his hand still curledaround the stock. Sami fumbled for the weapon. It was heavier thanhe had imagined. He had cleaned many of them at the camp buthad never handled one with a full magazine. Although Sami feltmore secure with a loaded rifle in his hand, he had never fired one.But he had seen it done many times. It couldn't be that difficult.
Sami's hands tightened around the rifle stock. The only way hecould see to get out of there was to go around the camp to the mainhighway. He wiped the sweat from his hands on his thawb andmoved parallel to the edge of the camp. He moved slowly, crouchedalmost double. Choking smoke and the sharp smell of explosivesfilled the air. Flashes of explosions and gunfire echoed loudlythrough the trees. The familiar slapping sound of an AK-47 firingmade him look to the right. A few of the Fidayeen Commandoswere fighting back. But the sporadic return fire came only from theother side of the camp.
Frightened but thinking more clearly, he reached an impassablechain link fence. He had no choice but to follow it to the far edgeof the camp. He spotted a man moving around the outside of thelast hut. A loud explosion rocked the building, blowing out therear windows. The helmeted man, dressed in a dark uniform anddraped with ammunition pouches, stood by a window and firedinto the room. Someone screamed from inside the hut. Samiducked behind a tree and pressed against the trunk. He prayed thatthe man didn't see him.
The man moved into the orchard to his right. Sami slunkaway to the left, his eyes searching the area where the man haddisappeared. He crept behind the hut, staying just inside theorchard and using the lower branches of the orange trees as cover.Someone shouted in Arabic from inside the camp. Flames flickeredthrough the shattered back windows of the hut Sami had cleaned.The front of the hut was brightly lit by the burning trucks and hesaw that the hut door was half open. He was almost at the cornerbut anyone crossing that open space would come under fire so hestayed crouched next to the hut wondering whether he should takea chance and get across to the other side.
A movement in the shadows behind Sami caught his attention.Two men stood behind a bush by the edge of the clearing andslightly ahead of him to the right. They were looking at somethingon the other side of the clearing.
If the men turned they would see Sami on his knees next to thetree and would not hesitate to shoot. Moving slowly, Sami steadiedhimself and carefully raised the rifle to his shoulder. He tried toimitate the actions of the commandos he had seen in training.Through the open sights of the weapon Sami aimed at the two menand pulled the trigger. The gun did not fire.
Sami looked down in horror, turning the gun from side to side,wondering what had happened. The safety catch was locked! Samicursed himself. He'd watched the commandos train so many times.How could he make such a stupid error?
He unlocked the safety just as the men started to turn. Oneman's eyes widened in surprise as he saw Sami crouched by the tree.
Sami threw the rifle to his shoulder and pulled the trigger. Hewas blinded by the flash and blinked hard to clear his eyes. Whenhe could see again, the two men had vanished. Had he hit them?Too scared to look away in case they reappeared, Sami kept the rifleon his shoulder. Someone shouted from the orchard where the menhad been.
Sami turned and scrambled around the hut. Bullets thumpedagainst the other side of the building. He crouched below thewindow with his back against the wall. Although hidden fromwhoever had fired, he was out in the open and knew he couldn'tstay there too long. He remembered one of the instructors at camptelling the trainee commandoes that only constant movementduring a fire fight would prevent them from being killed.
He could not go back to the orchard, so crept instead aroundthe front corner of the building, crouching and holding the riflelow and ready to fire. Bullets hit around him, throwing puffsof sand into the air as he turned the corner. With no place to gohe jumped through the open door into the hut. He slipped onthe bedroll by the door and lost his balance, crashing to the flooronto his hands and knees. He scrambled away from the entranceknowing that staying there would get him killed.
