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Chased Across Australia

By Reynold Conger

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Chapter I

In Damascus, the Executive Director asked his secretary to prepare coded messages. He waved a memo saying, “I just received approval from the El Kazar Council to begin the offensive against Australia. Please inform the list 'A' participants that the target for Operation Kangaroo is Sydney, Australia. The device shall be detonated at noon local time on Circular Quay. Date: the thirtieth of June next year.”
“June thirtieth, most appropriate,” commented the secretary.
“The date was chosen to maximize the publicity impact. Our hero was martyred on that date three years ago.”
“A fitting memorial. It will take time to draft messages in accordance with the operational plans and then code them. They will be on your desk for signature between noon and two in the afternoon tomorrow.”
“That is acceptable. I do not want any errors.”
The secretary retrieved a thick file of plans for Operation Kangaroo from the file cabinet. It only took a few minutes to remove thin folders containing initial orders and the “A” list. He laid the rest of the file on the section-leader’s desk. The section leader would want to review the documents before proceeding with Operation Kangaroo. The secretary then began transcribing the orders into coded messages. The first message was to a man in Detroit named Ifticahr.
* * *
In New Mexico, a woman approached her husband's chair from behind and threw her arms around him. “What do you suppose the thirtieth is?”
As Jill kissed him on the cheek, Jack said, “Let’s see. Today is the sixteenth, so the thirtieth of October must be a Friday.”
“No, not the thirtieth of this month, the thirtieth of June.”
He ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “Hmm, that must be the date of the all-star game.”
“No, you bum. . . . “
Jack’s laugh cut Jill’s protest short. “Now, now. You don’t think I would forget our anniversary do you?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Well, next June thirtieth will be our anniversary and a special one at that.”
“Yes, it will be our thirtieth anniversary.” By now Jill had moved around to where she could snuggle in Jack’s lap.
Jack circled her slim waist with his arm and kissed her. “I’ve been thinking. Since next summer will be out thirtieth anniversary we should do something special.”
“A thirtieth on the thirtieth. Hawaii, Ireland, Alaska or should we simply go back to Niagara Falls?
“It won’t matter to me where we celebrate our thirtieth as long as you’re with me.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Mr. sexy.” Jill kissed Jack very passionately
“You know, now that Hank lives in Sydney, we could take a trip to Australia.”
* * *
“Got your e-mail, Dad,” said the voice of Henry Higgins over the phone.
Jack Higgins cupped the receiver and said, “It’s Hank.” As Jill scampered toward the bedroom, Jack spoke to his son, “Glad you could get back to us so soon. Your mother will be on the other phone in a minute.”
“I’m here,” said Jill.
“Hi, Mom. Gwen and I are excited about your plans to visit us next winter.”
“Next summer, Dear,” Jill prompted.
Jack laughed, “June will be summer here when we leave, but winter when we get to Australia.”
“Oh, I always get that kind of thing mixed up,” said Jill.
Henry chuckled, “Remember, down here the seasons are opposite. Of course, you would have a better visit in the summer, say February.”
“Of course, but it’s easier for me to schedule time free in June or July than in February,” said Jack.
“I know. That’s school vacation for you. Now, don’t let the weather worry you. Winter here is cool, but not cold. We’re about as far south of the equator as Miami is north, and Americans like to spend the winter in Miami.”
Jack said, “That’s what I figured.”
“I’m still taking my long-johns,” said Jill.
Henry said, “By all means bring your long-johns. They call them woollies down here. Dad may want to bring a heavy sweater. Now, if you want to be warm, we’ll send you up to Queensland. It’s pretty warm there all year round.”
Jack said, “I thought we should spend some time on the Great Barrier Reef.”
“Of course.”
Jill added, “I’d like to SCUBA dive on the reef.”
“Great idea. The point is, we’d love to have you visit, and there is plenty to do. Sydney is an exciting city, and we can also send you north, south or even west. I can take some vacation time so the four of us can take a trip together. Let me know how your plans develop,” Henry added.
“You said four. What about little Mark?” asked Jill.
Henry responded, “We have several babysitters we’re pleased with. One is a widow with young children of her own. She’s more than glad to keep Mark overnight.”
“That must cost a bundle,” replied Jill.
“No more than leaving the dogs at a kennel, and Mark loves going over to Aunt Jennie’s house.”
Jack said, “At this point we’re making very rough and preliminary plans, like checking to see if we would be welcome.”
“Of course you’ll be welcome, and we agree that you should celebrate your thirtieth anniversary with a special trip, and an anniversary dinner on Circular Quay. Say, how’s your soccer team doing this year?”
“This year we have the best chance to make state in years. Ten good seniors backed up by underclassmen who have a lot of talent.”
“And the best coach in the state,” interjected Jill.
Henry laughed, “Great. After all the years you’ve been coaching, you deserve to have a team play in the state tournament.”
* * *
“Cahr, there’s a letter for you from your cousin Jamal.” Sarai called from the front door where the mail had just finished cascading through the mail slot.
Ifticahr took a stack of envelopes from his wife and scanned the return addresses. “I didn’t expect to hear from him again so soon,” he commented as he sat in his comfortable chair and ripped open the envelope from Syria.
Sarai sat on the couch with the rest of the mail and began sorting out the junk mail.
Cahr finished the letter, carefully tucked it back in the envelope and put the envelope in his shirt pocket. Then he went through the rest of his portion of the mail.
After several minutes of silence, Sarai asked, “Well, what did Jamal have to say? How are things in Damascus?”
“Ah, pretty much as usual.”
“Cahr, Jamal usually writes such chatty letters. They’re always entertaining. Why don’t you share this letter with me? You always share his letters.”
“There really isn’t much to share. He just talks about the weather and politics.”
“Honey, you’re being evasive. There isn’t bad news, is there? Is someone sick or even dead?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Sarai walked over to sit on the arm of his chair, “So, read the letter to me.”
“You’ll just be bored.”
“Then if you don’t mind, I’d like to read it for myself.” Sarai reached for the envelope in his pocket.
Cahr slapped her hand away and said, “NO!”
“Honey, what’s the matter?”
“You simply cannot read this letter!”
Sarai stood with her hands on her hips. “When we moved to Detroit, we agreed to live like Americans.”
“Yes, but we remain Muslim even though we have become Americans.”
“So?”
“A Muslim wife obeys the wishes of her husband.”
“Oh, come on. About reading a letter? What’s the big deal?”
“I do not wish you to read this letter.”
“Oh, I see. It must be male stuff. He must be bragging about his latest exploits with a woman. What did he do? Seduce an Israeli woman this time?”
“Light of my life, why must you be so nosy?”
“Look, when we moved here we agreed to live like Americans.”
“Yes, we agreed to assimilate into the American culture.”
“Whatever that means.”
Cahr rose and slowly walked toward his desk in a corner of the room. As he walked, he said, “Assimilate means to become a part of. We are to learn to speak English like Americans, eat American food, dress like Americans, but modestly. Eventually we will look and act exactly like Americans except that we shall remain true to Islam. In fact, I must be assimilating pretty well because I prefer to show off my beautiful wife rather than to hide her under a burqa.”
“Then if we are to become like Americans, we must trust and share the way American couples do. Ike shares his feelings with Mandy. Susan keeps the books for her husband’s business.”
“Of course. Susan’s husband cannot even add.” Cahr unlocked a drawer in his desk.
“Mack is an excellent plumber.”
He placed the letter in the drawer. “Sure, but his books were a mess. Remember, I worked as his helper now and then before H-P hired me. He would have lost his shirt if I hadn’t noticed the mistakes in the bid he was preparing for the Ford Street Apartments Project.” He carefully locked the drawer and returned the key to his pocket. “I think Susan forced him to turn the books over to her rather than face financial ruin.”
Sarai walked toward her husband as he turned away from the desk. She met him with a hug in the middle of the room, “Cahr, I love you.”
“Light of my Life, I am the luckiest of men to have a woman like you love me.”
“Look how Allah blessed us by putting us together.”
“Yes, my father got angry at the very suggestion that I might wish to find my own mate.”
Sarai laughed. “My father threatened to shoot any young man I might start dating without his permission.”
Cahr kissed her. “We are doubly blessed. First, we are blessed to have fallen in love with each other.”
“My mother predicted that I would lose my head over a man if I attended that community college.”
“Of course she was right, and my father warned me to keep my distance from those loose American girls.”
Sarai giggled, “The greatest blessing of all was when the matchmaker presented my parents with your picture.”
“Obviously, you danced with joy.”
“Of course not. I frowned. I ignored how handsome you are and said you did not look Palestinian. I’ve always wondered if you bribed the matchmaker.”
They kissed again before Cahr said, “If I had thought it would do any good, I would have, but what can be done to influence a matchmaker? My parents must have looked at photos and resumes of a hundred young ladies. They wanted me married to the perfect woman. Finally, one night, they called me into the living room. The matchmaker sat there with a grin from ear to ear. My parents had selected five women for me to choose from.”
“And you chose me. How romantic.”
“Stop that. You know that my father would have withdrawn you from consideration if he had even suspected I knew you.” Cahr held Sarai at arms-length as though inspecting her. “I set your photo aside with a remark about your height.”
“What about my height?” asked Sarai even though she knew what he had told his parents and the matchmaker.
“I said that you are too tall. I made a fuss over the shortest woman presented, but the matchmaker told me you were the best of the lot, in spite of your height.”
“I’m an inch shorter than you,” protested Sarai.
“Yes, isn’t that terrible? I hardly have to even duck my head to kiss you, but I didn’t dare admit to my father that we had ever met, let alone that we had kissed.” He pulled her back into his arms and kissed her to demonstrate how nicely their lips aligned. “I made the poor matchmaker work hard to convince me that you were even worth considering. Eventually, however, Papa said, ‘If the matchmaker recommends this girl, Sarai, we should take her advice. After all, Ifticahr doesn’t know what he is talking about. Too tall, indeed. I will write a formal letter for the matchmaker to take to Sarai's parents.'”
Sarai kissed Cahr. “Cahr darling, look how well we have assimilated into American culture. We even fell in love and married the way Americans do.”
“As I said, we are doubly-blessed.”
“So, having fallen in love the way Americans do, we need to trust and share the way American couples do. You know I worry when you get too secretive.” She kissed him passionately.
When the kiss ended, Cahr sighed and said, “I think I have been set up.”
“No, but you’re wise enough to know when you need to change your mind in order to make your wife happy.”
Cahr let go of her and walked over to the desk. “You do not know what you are asking. I should not, but because I love you, I will share with you even though it puts your life in danger along with mine.” He unlocked the drawer.
“Put my life in danger?”
After looking in the drawer, Cahr relocked it. “Yes, if I share with you, it could put both of our lives in danger. Can you keep a secret?”
“Of course. We dated secretly for six months. Each time I came home, I was bubbling with love and wished I could share my joy with my sister. Of course I can keep a secret, especially if that secret will help keep you safe.”
“Very well then. I shouldn’t tell you this, but. . . .”
“Tell. Tell.”
“My cousin Jamal died eight years ago.”
“I don’t understand. You just got a letter from him.”
“Exactly why I wanted to shield you from this. You must keep it a secret that I am a member of El Kazar.”
“El Kazar, the terrorist organisation?” Sarai put her hand over her mouth.
“The same. The letters from Jamal are the way headquarters communicates with me. I was assigned to move to Detroit to become what is called a ‘sleeper’.”
“No! You can’t. This is terrible. I thought you loved me,” Sarai screamed.
Cahr stepped back over to his wife and took her in his arms, in spite of the fact that she tried to push him away. “This is for the glory of Allah and the restoration of Palestine.”
Sarai sobbed, “I married you because I love you. I thought you loved me. I was expecting to enjoy many years of living with you. Now you’re going to go off and die to forward the restoration of Palestine. You don’t love me after all. You want to die a martyr’s death so that you can spend eternity with your fifty-seven virgins.”
“Sarai, Sarai. I do not intend to become a martyr. For one thing, El Kazar does not use suicide bombers. That is a waste of manpower.”
“But, you will be just as dead if you get shot, and how can we make love if you get put in jail?”
“I am not the kind of terrorist who shoots people. I am trained as a communications expert.”
“But even in that role, you could be arrested or killed.”
“That is a hypothetical possibility, but I can assure I will do everything in my power to stay alive and free to remain your husband.” Cahr attempted to kiss her.
She ducked her head and said, “Wonderful. If something goes wrong and you really do get killed, you become a martyr with fifty-seven virgins at your beck and call while I am left alone.”
"Light of my life, I would rather spend a lifetime, even a shortened lifetime, loving you than to have all of the virgins in heaven for eternity.”
“Fine, perhaps that romantic thought will comfort me when I’m a lonely widow and you are enjoying the sexual favors of one virgin after another.” Sarai finally succeeded in breaking away from him.
“We will have to search the Koran. I’m sure there must be some provision for husbands and wives to be together in the hereafter. If nothing else, I am sure Allah would include you in my harem of virgins.”
“But I’m no longer a virgin. You changed that.”
“A technicality that I am sure Allah can handle. Unfortunately if he does give you to me, the other fifty-six virgins will be bored silly because you and I will spend all eternity together in bed.” Cahr opened his arms wide.
“Oh Cahr, do you mean you would prefer me to a harem of women more beautiful than me?
“Restoring your virginity will be an easy task for Allah, compared with finding fifty-six women who are more beautiful than you. I love you and want to remain faithful to you the way American husbands are faithful to their wives, or at least the way they are supposed to be faithful.”
Sarai stepped into his arms. “Darling, don’t ever leave me. Just kiss me over and over, and don’t stop kissing me until we both lose control.”
The kisses increased in passion even as Cahr carried Sarai to bed.

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