Jack Terral - Battleline (2007)

But as the years passed, he began to have spells of erectile dysfunction. Of course, the several drugs available to jump-start his lovemaking abilities took care of that small problem. Lately, however, he had begun not to care when those old desires couldn't be satisfied, and this was mainly because he wasn't having too many of those erotic cravings. The passing of several decades had brought about a "been there, done that" attitude on his part when it came to sexual liaisons with women.

This last deal for the Iranians, with all the preparation, bribery, cajoling, threats, and logistical nightmares of gathering up infantry fighting vehicles, self-propelled artillery, and those goddamned tanks, had really drained the old boy. The officers of the Ukrainian and Russian armies were a rotten bunch and very difficult to set decent prices with. He had to admit this Iranian caper was the crowning achievement of his entire arms-dealing career, but it left him spiritually exhausted. The millions of Euros he made on the transactions soothed his anguish to a great degree, but he finally reached a conclusion: Things were getting too big and too complicated for even the great Harry Turpin to handle alone.

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2300 HOURS

HARRY had a special guest that evening. Archibald Sikes--he would never be Arsalaan or Sikes Pasha to his compatriot-had been invited over to take pleasure in something he hadn't enjoyed in a long, long time.

English beer!

Harry had several cases of Tetley's with him that were neatly stacked in the rear of his tent. The crates that held them were labeled with the Farsi words "mive ab," so that any casual glance by an Iranian Muslim would make him think the Englishman had brought in some fruit juice. Even though the arms dealer had done a lot of business with the Iranians in the past, he still had to be careful about bringing alcohol into one of their military garrisons. Imbibing was seriously frowned on in the Islamic religion, and even enjoying a few brews by himself was considered taboo.

It was because of this that he had invited Sikes over at such a late hour. They could safely enjoy a few pints if they kept the lantern turned low, the tent flaps shut, and their conversation quiet. Sikes seated himself in a camp chair.

Englishmen prefer to drink their beer warm, so there was no need to ice down the goodies. Sikes seemed almost orgasmic as he took the first few tentative sips. After smacking his lips, he quickly consumed three deep gulps.

Harry grinned at him. "So 'ow's that then, Archie lad?"

"Have I died and gone to heaven?" Sikes replied with a wide grin.

"Well, I thought you needed a taste o' Blighty after all the time over 'ere," Harry said.

"I must admit I've missed those good times in the pub," Sikes said. He took a deep breath, then drained the mug. "Gawd! I ain't never gonna see England again, am I, Harry?"

"It's 'ard to tell, lad."

"But things'll look up for me after this invasion," Sikes said. "I'll have a large command and a promotion along with a couple of medals, I should think."

"D'you miss 'ome much?" Harry asked.

"O' course."

"I don't want to make you no worry, lad," Harry said. "But yer mum and dad 'as been 'aving a terrible time of it."

"Oh, Gawd!" Sikes exclaimed. "I was afraid o' that. I ain't heard nothing from the old folks, o' course, but I had a notion that the Army would be going after 'em because o' me."

"It's more'n the Army, Archie," Harry said.

"The antiterrorist coppers have been coming 'round too. They took your dad in one time and kept him under interrogation for a whole bluddy night. It liked to 'ave drove him to an 'eart attack."

"How'd you know about all that then?"

"I got me eyes and ears in Blighty, lad," Harry said, "along with a lot o' other places. Yer folks is worried Mr. Sikes might get the sack at his job."

Sikes grinned and shook his head. "That's not gonna happen, mate. The union looks after their own in a case like that. There'd be plenty o' trouble. I know, 'cause I worked there meself for a year or so. I wasn't worth much, let me tell you, but the foreman didn't dare do nothing about it." Archie laughed. "Management was real happy when they learnt I was leaving to join the Army."

"Everybody's down on your dad," Harry said. "The union too. Since them Wogs blew up the Underground, the whole bluddy population has got a new attitude toward things. It seems there's a couple o' Arab blokes down at that warehouse that's come under suspicion. It was thought your dad might be involved with 'em."

Sikes reached over and picked up another bottle of beer from the bunch on the floor. After opening it, he settled back in the camp chair, glancing at his older friend. "I know things might look bad, Harry. I went from good to bad soldier after that commissioning thing, y'know?"

Harry shook his head. "I never understood that, Archie. Don't get upset with me, but it seems you 'ad a good chance for a commission, but in a different regiment. You shoulda took it, lad."

"There's such a thing as pride, Harry," Sikes said testily. "The fact they said I wasn't good enough for 'em just set me off, hey? Maybe it wasn't logical, but that's the way I felt, and I ain't sorry about it. I ain't sorry about nothing."

Harry eyed him carefully. "Ain't you even sorry about deserting from the Army?"

"Hell, no!" Archie exclaimed loudly, then quickly quieted. "They was gonna kick me out when we got back to Blighty anyhow. They ruined me life, Harry. There I was doing fine in the Army, a sergeant and all, and then they turn around and treat me like shit. It wasn't my fault!"

"I can see yer point, lad," Harry said. "I ain't putting no blame on you."

"It's gonna turn out alright, don't you worry none about that," Sikes assured him. "I got a good command for this invasion, and when we finish up in Afghanistan and take over Pakistan, I'll be sitting pretty in the Iranian Army. I'm a major now and expect to be at least a brigadier when we start our operations over on the other side o' the Persian Gulf. I got real glory ahead o' me, Harry. I'll be able to make up for all that trouble and bother I caused me mum and dad."

Harry smiled. "O' course you will. No problem with that, 'ey?"

"I'll have a lot o' money," Sikes said. "I can send 'em enough to buy a nice house, and my dad won't have to worry about his job. If I'm a gen'ral, the British government and Army have got to forgive me past sins, hey? Maybe I'll even be able to go home for a visit. I mean, they got to show respect to a bluddy gen'ral, ain't they?"

"I would think so," Harry said. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to the younger man. "'Ere, Archie. I notice there ain't no birds around 'ere. When's the last time you got yourself a bit o' tail, 'ey?"

Sikes grinned and shrugged. "I had one of them temporary marriages when I was with the Pashtuns. A thirteen-year-old. But she was mature for her age, Harry. It ain't like I was having it on with a little kid."

"Sure," Harry said. "Them Pashtun girls grow up fast." He winked at Sikes. "I know a place up near Tehran called Khoshi. It's a special place for foreigners. Lots o' liquor and women. We could go up there, you and me, and 'ave us a bit o' fun. Know what I mean?"

"Oh, yeah!" Sikes said. "I feel bluddy deprived, I do. But ain't that risky what with Islamic law and all that?"

Harry shook his head. "The government knows about the place. Them Muslims ain't all stupid. They know they need a place where special guests from the West can get away and ease up a bit."

"I bet a lot them Iranians go there too, hey?"

"They'd be in deep shit," Harry said seriously. "There's times when them mad followers of Islam are 'arder on their own kind than on us infidels."

"I switched to Islam," Sikes reminded him.