Barry Sadler: Desert mercenary

Gus saw where Carl was looking and spat on the floor. "Now, there is one who needs to be removed from this vale of tears. I have no argument with honest whores who are old enough to make up their own minds, but that swine sells children. One of these days I think I'll kill him.''

Neither Carl nor Dominic commented; it was unnecessary. Since it had been said, it was now only a matter of when Sulman would die. Gus used his chunky forefinger to point straight at Sulman's face. Closing one eye, he sighted over it and whispered bang! loud enough for the girls in the back of the bar to hear. Sulman left the customer at his table hurriedly, saying they would meet on the morrow in a more civilized environment.

The cafe girls plied their ancient trade among the clientele, approaching all but the table where the hard-looking man sat. The girls knew them and understood this was not a night to disturb them. The men were left alone. The bottle at their table grew empty.

At last, bored with the Chat Rose, Langers left them, handing Dominic a hundred dinars from the roll Monpelier had given him. "You move over to where me and Gus are staying. I'll see you in the morning. Gus, no trouble for now. Behave yourself. I don't want you in jail. If Monpelier comes through, we could move out at anytime. So be good and keep away from Sulman. We can always settle with him later."

Gus affected a pout which didn't work. Mockingly he replied, "Ah! You are a hard master, effendi, but this lowly one hears you and will obey. I shall, in an attempt to gain merit, take this lost child," he nudged Dominic, "into my protection until the morrow."

Langers just shook his head. Gus never changed. Paying the bill, he left them sitting, knowing they would be okay. After all the jokes and bullshit were done with, Gus was reliable where it counted.

Langers wanted to get outside and be alone for a time. The city was too heavy, confining. Letting his feet pick their path, he wandered through the streets filled with the smells that can only be found in a city of the East. Smells of cinnamon and curry, sandlewood and musk mingled with that of industrial chemicals and DDT. Mounds of trash moved as though they had a life of their own from the maggots that bred in them. There was nothing new; he had seen and smelled the same ten thousand times before.

His feet led him at last to the outskirts of the city. The night was clear as only the desert night can be. Moisture from the sea had been pushed back by winds from the desert. Resting his hip on a boulder, Carl looked back to see the way he had come.

He was on a rise outside of the city. In front of him lay the main town and harbor where ship lights rose and fell with the slight movement of the Mediterranean waters. To his back were the rocky hills and mountains, passes and gorges. In those hills and beyond lived, by Western standards, barbarian tribes, Berbers, and some members of the Tuareg tribe if you went far enough. In those same passes lay the bones of Romans and Carthaginians, Vandals and Byzantines, Americans, English, Italians, and Germans. For a dry land it had been well watered over the centuries with blood.

Watching the stars run their eternal course overhead, Carl thought of the land to the south. A harsh, unforgiving land. The job itself sounded simple enough, but few things were ever what they appeared to be. There would be unseen, unknown problems which would end up killing someone. Even that wasn't of any great import. The men they would take with them knew what the odds were.

A breeze from the hills rolled over him. It was good. There would not be many cool breezes when they passed over the mountains. Until they came out, by day it would be an oven designed by a shaitan, an evil spirit, to bake the souls of men in their own shells and by night almost freezing.

It was with dawn that Carl returned. He had needed the night in the desert to think and feel. Dominic had done as he'd asked and had gone with Gus to their hotel. He was sleeping in Carl's bed, no great surprise. Gus had opened one red eye when he'd come in and been told to go back to sleep, an order promptly obeyed.

After taking a quick shower, Carl went out to breakfast. Until it was time for him to go to the waterfront cafe he just walked. The sounds of the city washed over him: crying children, beggars, muezzins calling out from their minarets for the faithful to come to morning prayer. He moved aside to make room for a group of Coptic priests with tangled beards walking in orderly squads, swinging censers of incense on their way to some place or other.

The appointed time found Langers at the same table as he'd been at the previous day with Gus. Monpelier was relieved to find him sitting alone. Gus always made things so difficult.

"I am glad to see that you are on time, my friend. It is good. Fortunately, I have been most productive and have most of the information we require, but more will be coming shortly." Carl nodded for him to continue.

"It's as we thought. Sunni Ali has made his camp at Mt. Baguezane. The last word is that the boy and girl are well. At his camp he has only perhaps forty armed men full time. The others are with the animals or their families, but they can be summoned within an hour or two. At the massif Ali uses some of the large caves for his stronghold. They control three or four spring-fed ponds for their water. The springs usually flow all year. From here to the massif we can go one of two ways: we can drive the whole way or fly to the strip at Fort Laperrine in the Ahaggar Mountains, where I can have transport and supplies waiting. From there it is not far to the Talak Air Plains and stronghold of our friend Sunni Ali and his Azbine tribesmen. Getting out, well, that leaves us with the same problems. By ground or by air?"

They spoke around the attentions of the waiter and passing customers. "What about the other men?'' Carl asked. "If it's as you say, then we are going to need at least nine or ten more. I found Dominic yesterday and will be taking him. Do you have any others in mind that we can get?"

Monpelier removed a folded piece of paper from his pocket. "I have already found ten more. Like you and your friends, they are all former legionnaires or combat-experienced men. I think they will do quite well for our purposes."

He handed Langers the list and leaned back while it was read. Refolding the paper, Langers handed it back to Monpelier.

"I think you're right. I know a couple of the men on your list; they are good. And if the others are just as good then we should have no problems. Now what about equipment? We'll need a bit of everything just for contingencies."

Monpelier ordered a coffee and cakes. His stomach was beginning to rumble a bit. "I can get almost anything you need. Just make up your list. But let us take things in order. What is your first requirement?''

Langers leaned forward. "More information. I want pictures of the massif, more info on the background and history of Sunni Ali and the time frame we have to work in."

"As for what transport we need, this is the way I think we should approach it at this time. We'll fly into Fort Laperrine, but only to refuel. First we'll send a few of our men on ahead with the vehicles. They'll meet us in the desert as close to Baguezane as we can get without spooking anyone. If we pulled into any of the villages in a group, the Tuaregs would know of it immediately. We'll take all weapons and heavy gear with us on the plane. There are plenty of salt flats out there that can be used as a landing strip. We'll have the advance party select one and notify us by radio which one we are to use."

"Once the advance party gets clear of the Ahaggar Mountains, they shouldn't have any problems getting out to… I would say somewhere