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"I suppose this means you aren't going to rescue me," Blake said as I was shoved into a small cell with him. It appeared to be the only one they had. The rest of the room held supplies of some sort.
"I always said you were smarter than you look," I told him and rubbed my wrists to get the circulation started again. I couldn't believe the mess we were in, even though it was entirely my own fault. I couldn't really blame Blake. How was he to know we'd end up in the hands of a homicidal terrorist?
I wondered what would become of us? Actually, I had a pretty good idea. I worried about my kids and what they'd do without me. The boys are so young. Of course, they still have their dad as a role model, but my daughter -- how would she make it without a mom to guide her through those teen years?
In actuality, she'd probably do fine. When I left she didn't even want to admit she was related to me, at least not in public. But still, I'd miss her wedding, her college graduation, her...
"Eileen!" Blake pinched me lightly on the arm. "Snap out of it!"
"Ow! Stop it! Where are we?"
"Somewhere in the desert. That's all I've been able to get out of that rock they've had guarding me off and on over the past few days. Oops, he must have heard me -- here he comes again." I looked up and, sure enough, this huge fellow dressed in desert camouflage utilities and carrying what appeared to be a fully automatic submachinegun, waltzed into the room.
I whistled low and soft. "Look at that subgun."
"Yeah. It's real too. Oh -- and you don't have to worry. This ape doesn't speak any English. Watch this." Blake plastered a big smile on his face and gestured to the guy with the gun.
"Hey you! Yeah you, the big ugly one with the hardware. I'm thirsty. How about bringing that fat rear end of yours over and giving me a drink of water," he said, pointing to his mouth and smiling.
"I hope you're right about not speaking English, my friend, because if King Kong takes offense, he's going to turn you into the lower price spread," I said, keeping a wary eye on the brute who was bringing a cup of water to our cell. He handed the small cup to Blake through the bars and gave him a large, gap-toothed smile. I had to admit, I'd seen brighter wattage in a night light.
"So, this guy's big, dumb, illiterate and well-armed. Where does that get us?"
"Don't know," Blake admitted. "They aren't aware I speak the lingo and I've been listening. One thing's for sure -- we need to get out of here in the next 24 hours or..." he let his thoughts trail off.
"Or what?" I asked. Blake had one heck of a pair of shiners and -- judging from the assortment of cuts and bruises on his face -- Razzack wasn't exactly a gracious host.
"They've got plans for us. I'm not sure, but I think it involves staking us out in the desert and leaving us to die," Blake said.
"Die?" I squeaked. "Are you just going to let them do it? I mean, don't you have a plan?"
"Plan? Sure. I'll call headquarters and tell them to send in the cavalry. Who do you think I am, Napoleon Solo? They took my belt, my shoes, my wallet and just about everything else I had. All I've got left is the cyanide capsule in my tooth and a location transmitter that doesn't seem to be doing its job or I wouldn't still be here."
"Well, maybe I can help. How do you say 'good-looking' in Arabic?"
"That's not going to work, Eileen."
"Why? I mean I admit I could stand to lose a few pounds, but I'm not exactly chopped liver." I was insulted.
"Because, I'm afraid that Killer over there prefers me."
"He's gay?" Blake nodded.
"We've been imprisoned by a seven-foot tall, gay, terrorist moron?" I asked.
"That appears to be the size of it."
"Then there's only one thing left to do. You need to lure him over here and I'll jump him while he's, uh, trying to romance you."
Blake looked offended. "No way."
"Why -- does my plan ruffle your testosterone?"
"No, nitwit. I just want to know how you're going to overpower someone who's a good foot taller than you and outweighs you by...well, he outweighs you. Ever tried to put a chokehold on someone bigger than you?"
"There's got to be a way. Look, if you can get him to open the cell door, I think between the two us we can put him on the ground. You keep him busy and I'll come up from behind. What have we got to lose?"
"Besides my dignity?" He sighed. "OK. I'll give it shot. But only if you promise not to tell anyone...I mean it, Eileen, your lips stay zipped. Got it?"
"Like who am I going to tell? Mr. Waverly?"
He grinned. "I guess there's nothing left to lose. Ready?"
"As I'll ever be."
*********
Blake managed to get Goliath in our cage by pretending to want to get a little closer to him. The guard opened the door to the cell, smiling broadly all the while. Blake held up his hand as if there was something in it, and Einstein squinted, his attention riveted to Blake's empty hand. That's when I struck. Sort of.
I climbed up on the small cot against the wall and Blake maneuvered Jumbo my way and as soon as he was close enough I reached out with my hands cupped and slapped them as hard as I could over both ears. He turned and looked at me with an expression that reminded me of the way vicious man-eating crocodiles study their prey before sliding into the water after them. And then, just when I figured I was destined to be a shrimp on the barbie, he gave me this foolish look and slid to the floor, unconscious.
I felt the pulse in his neck. It was there, but I figured I'd probably busted both his ear drums. He was going to feel pretty rotten in the morning.
"Let's get out of here, now!" Blake hissed and grabbed my hand.
"Wait! The gun," I said, and went back to get it. I handed it to Blake, then walked quickly around the room.
"Hey, what are you doing? We need to get out of here!" Blake said.
"Give me a minute, I saw something here that might come in handy." I found exactly what I needed: motor oil, a partially-full gas can and some old bottles. There were even a couple of rags lying around. It's almost like they were expecting me.
I carefully -- but quickly -- put together a mixture of oil and gasoline in four bottles-- and stuffed a gas soaked rag into the top of each. I grabbed the bottles by the neck and smiled. Blake shook his head at me.
"Let's go!" He said and cracked the door. The room led into a hallway, but -- except for us and the guard -- this building appeared to be deserted. I figured it was used to store stuff, like food, ammunition and overweight housewives. He nodded and did a quick movement out of the door and to the right. I came behind him, hugging the wall on the left. The bottles clanked once and he threw me a nasty look. I shrugged and tried to be quieter. Hey -- it's not easy to move like a panther with a couple fists full of Molotov cocktails!
We worked our way to the door and Blake did a quick peek.
"There's troops to the right. They look like they're getting ready to pull out. A convoy of some sort."
"Can you see how to get out of here?" I asked.
"Negative. But I remember the guard telling me that the gate was north of the building we were in so that makes it," he pointed to the right, "That's the way the troops are headed." He looked down at the bottles in my hand. "What are you going to do with those things?"
"Just wait. You'll see."
"How are you going to set them off without fire?"
I held up a book of matches. "Filched them from your guard." Blake made a face, then took another look outside.
"We can't wait around for someone to discover we're missing. Let's do it."
*********
We decided to go after a jeep that carried just a driver. Less people to fight that way. Plus the one we picked seemed to be the last one in line. As soon as it was within striking distance, we took off running. We were so fast no one caught on as Blake and I dove into the back of the jeep. Blake slid into the shotgun position and rammed the sub gun into the driver's neck. The guy jumped, but Blake said something in Arabic and the driver gunned the engine, speeding up to the gate. But when he was almost even with it, the driver yelled something at the guard, who started to close the gate on us.
Blake conked the driver, shoved him out of the jeep and I slid into his seat. The gate guard yelled something -- we'd been burned. No need to be quiet at that point. Blake opened up with the sub gun, mowing down the guard and I gunned the engine and shot past the gate, which was still closing. The line of trucks and troops in front of us wasn't reacting very fast. I guess they never expected to be attacked from their own compound, so I paused for a second, whipped out the book of matches I'd lifted off the guard, lit one, touched it to the rag on one of the Molotov cocktails and tossed it.
I've got a pretty darn good arm and that bottle sailed just as pretty as you please, smashing on the guardhouse and causing it to explode, along with the gate and just about everything around it.
Suddenly men were yelling and running all over the place.
"Gun it!" Blake yelled and I floored the jeep, hoping it had enough fuel in it to get us out of there.
"Which way?" I yelled. Bullets were flying by this time. I was worried about the jeep's gas tank, though. Especially with three more Molotov cocktails on board.
"Hard right -- that'll take us north and if we're lucky our direction-finders will cut in and someone will look for us."
A stray thought tickled my brain, but I didn't have time to say anything. It looked like the bad boys decided to pursue us. The line of troops and trucks were turning north, right behind us.
"How many are there?" I asked Blake.
"Don't know. But probably close to a dozen or more, and a couple of those are troop transports." He put the sub gun on the floor of the jeep. "Give me those cocktails."
I had them between my legs -- not very feminine and I hated to think of what would have happened if one accidentally ignited, but at least they were convenient. I handed him the matches and one of the cocktails.
"OK. Eileen, when I give the word, I want you to swing around and head straight for the other vehicles," Blake said.
"OK."
"NOW!" He yelled. I gave it a hard left and we were were headed straight on a collision course with a bunch of armed terrorists. I don't know who was more dismayed -- them or me.
"OK, get back on course, Eileen," Blake said, lighting the cocktail in his hand. Then he stood -- pretty brave of him considering I was in the process of swinging back around to head north again and bullets were buzzing past our heads -- and threw that lit cocktail as hard as he could throw.
"Hold on!" I yelled and floored the accelerator -- I already knew what was coming and I was right. There was an explosion that literally rocked the jeep. The sky lit up and -- uh oh -- flaming debris started raining down on us.
I'd like to point out I still had custody of two Molotov cocktails. Blake grabbed another one and -- not even bothering to light it -- hurled it back behind us, where it exploded in the fire and doubled the conflagration.
"Speed up!" He yelled.
"This is as fast as it will go!" I screamed. Dark smoke billowed out behind us. I pulled the last cocktail out and handed it to him. He put it between his legs -- better his than mine, I figured -- and snatched up the sub gun. Turning, he fired off a volley. Meanwhile, I was pushing the little jeep as hard as I could. We were putting some distance between us and the convoy, but it wasn't enough for me. I wanted to get far enough away to where I couldn't even see the smoke.
Sand was kicking up and I could hear gunfire behind us, but they weren't shooting at us anymore. Those bullets were being detonated by the fire. The sky was nice and rosy -- even in daylight I could see the flames shooting up behind us three stories high or more.
I drove hard and fast for ten more minutes and -- it seemed like a miracle, but we left them behind! I slowed down a bit and forced myself to relax. Blake took a deep breath and leaned back in the seat.
"Well, it's not much, but we do have something of a head start. Let's hope we find our way back to civilization before they catch up," he said. I was about to answer when an odd noise caught my attention. A plane. It was a plane.
"A plane!" I said and yes, I know I sounded like Tattoo. Blake had heard it, too. He shielded his eyes and tried to look for it.
"Nope -- it's a helicopter, Eileen. Look!" He pointed at the bird, which was almost straight overhead.
Blake pointed the gun at it.
"Friend or foe?" I asked.
"What friends are we going to have out here in Razzack's territory? Who knows where we are?" Blake asked.
He had a point. Warily we watched the chopper as it seemed to circle us, then abruptly pulled up and shot ahead.
"Uh oh. Look up ahead," Blake said, pointing at the helicopter.
It was landing.
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