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Dyna-Mike
9. June
2005 Three
and a half years had passed. I was now nearly 49 years old, and Kareem was
nearly 30. The suite at the Swissotel had been both home and office the entire
time, with the exception of frequent visits to the Pentagon, the White House,
and various congressional offices to meet with operatives and academics from all
over the globe in ongoing attempts to interpret intercepted transmissions, and
to anticipate the next move of the "enemy". President Bush had
mobilized the entire reserve military force worldwide, and the globe was a much
different place than ever before. The
"War against Terrorism" had spread around the globe. The United States
in its wrath had not stopped at Afghanistan's overthrow, but had invaded Iran,
Libya, and Iraq while chasing the elusive Al Quada network. Initially military
experts had feared reprisals from the conglomerate of Arab nations in
retaliation against American aggression, but none had ever materialized. When
President Bush had gone on television with his threat to use nuclear weapons
against any opposing nation in his pursuit of terrorists, he had been taken
seriously. Yet all these years later, we were no closer to ending terrorism than
we had been prior to September 11th, 2001. Encouraged
by the successful American campaign, Israel, weary of Palestinian uprisings and
the seemingly endless 'enfitada" activities for almost two years had
declared open war on Palestine late in 2002. Despite worldwide cries of outrage,
they had moved in with missiles, warplanes and tanks and wiped out the entire
Palestinian government and infrastructure, and they continued to pursue all
suspected members of the PLO, Hamas, and other organizations to the death. Every
day there was news of a suicide bombings, and the rhetoric had not changed in
years. When OPEC threatened to cut off petroleum supplies to the United States
and her allies if they refused to intervene, President Bush responded angrily
that any such action would be considered an act of war, and any participating
nation would be crushed immediately with the full might of the American
military. Since America had been on a relentless rampage for over three years,
the threat was taken seriously. No nation dared oppose the wrath of President
and Commander-in-Chief Bush in such dangerous times. Even Russia and France,
traditionally opposed to US aggression, remained atypically silent. The
price of war was great, and the American economy began to strain under the
burden of rising military costs. Gasoline was up to $5 per gallon, a loaf of
bread was $7, and rumors of food and fuel rationing were heard from Washington.
Jobs were scarce and few, and only the wealthy had survived intact. The poor had
become the homeless, the middle class had become the poor, and the wealthy had
become wealthier. America had become a two-class society: the poor and the rich.
Most of the poor enlisted in the military as soon as they turned 18 because
there was no work in the private sector. I
was working in my living room, which had become my office almost immediately
after arriving in the Capitol, and was pondering the transcripts of the latest
batch of clandestine recordings of suspected terrorist sympathizers. The Secret
Service kept me very busy interpreting and translating documents and recordings
of suspects, but I seldom came across anything worthy of mention. Nonetheless,
the avalanche of work continued, and there seemed to be no end in sight. My
bank account, due to the annual payments from my inheritance, had swollen to
over $250 million dollars by this time. It seemed insane, but I had never spent
a single penny of it. I oftentimes thought about giving it away, but I literally
had no time to think about it these days. Kareem
worked as my liaison, bringing the work to me and returning with my
interpretations to the government offices day and night. He was ever at my side,
assisting with obscure dialects and language idiosyncrasies that befuddled my
progress from time to time. He constantly reassured me and kept me insulated
from the intensity of the Secret Service, a favor I greatly appreciated. Over
the years, Kareem had come to love and trust me like a father and even assisted
at times with the search for the Garden. I had never mentioned Gabrielae,
Mortach or the other outrageous experiences over the years. As far as Kareem
knew, I was obsessed with finding the Garden. He indulged my little fantasy with
enthusiasm. His loyalty was indescribable. Regardless,
my search for the Garden had come to a complete halt, since there was no time
for anything but work and sleep these days. I was just thinking about that when
the phone rang. It was Kareem, calling from Agency Headquarters. He had just
dropped off my latest stack of translations and interpretations from Riyadh,
Saudi Arabia. "Professor?"
his calm voice inquired. "Yes,
Kareem, what's up?" I asked. "Sir,
It's time to pack. You need to crate up your work for relocation
immediately." Kareem always did get straight to the point. "Where
to this time, young man?" I asked. "We
leave for Saudi Arabia next week, Sir. You've been appointed Cultural Consultant
to the American Embassy in Saudi Arabia. You'll continue your work there, closer
to the source of the material. No need to worry, Sir, everything's already been
taken care of," He continued. "Of
course it has, Kareem. It always is…" I trailed off. "Sir?"
Kareem asked. "Yes?"
I replied. "You'd
better turn CNN on, Sir. There's some news you ought to hear…." Kareem
was silent. "Okay,
I will," I responded. The phone went dead as he hung up. I rose from the
desk and walked across the room. I was feeling rather stretched. A vacation
would do me some good. I wondered to myself if that would be possible. After
all, it had been almost three and a half years on the job with no breaks to
date. I lived like a hermit in the hotel, and had no social life whatsoever. I
had never even visited the museums within walking distance from my suite in all
that time. I needed to slow down, because obviously there was an inexhaustible
supply of work. I turned the television on. The bland announcer was reading from
the teleprompter. "…another
first in American political history. With the announcement of the merging of the
Republican and Democrat Parties, the nation has become a single-party political
system, making President George W. Bush the most powerful man in history.
Without opposition, all his proposals are expected to receive immediate
approval, speeding up the War Effort exponentially…" I
turned off the television. "Wow!" I thought to myself. "He can do
anything he wants now…" It was a bit of a scary thought, but as long as
terrorists were threatening the world, one had to expect extreme reactions from
frightened nations. I thought back to the last time I had seen Gabrielae. I
remembered her words clearly. "Your
world is about to change as well, dear Samual. There will be wars, and fear here
and abroad, and suspicion will rule the hearts of men in time. Many lives will
be lost, for your people are nearing the vortex of your destiny as a
civilization. The future depends on the outcome of this convergence of worldwide
conflict. But for better or worse, you will never be the same again. The days of
change are upon you." I
had a sudden feeling of urgency. I had to return to my search for the Garden of
Eden. All the words of Gabrielae were coming to pass just as she had predicted.
I was running out of time! I felt angry for the lost years, and determined I
would redouble my efforts, and vowed that the Secret Service would just have to
accept the fact that I needed a life of my own. I was going to take a vacation
as soon as I arrived in the Middle East, whether they liked it or not. *
* * It
was early afternoon in July 2005. I was looking out the living room window of my
suite at the InterContinental Hotel in Riyadh. It was 111 degrees outdoors, not
unusual for this time of year. Despite the heat, it was a lovely view. The
grounds were a seeming oasis, over 100 acres, with a beautiful golf course and
finely manicured landscaping in the extensive private gardens. The view was
breathtaking from my suite. I
turned and scanned the living room. There was a long desk attached to a side
table with tons of equipment, fax machines, telephone, computers, printers and
stacks of papers in various piles. It looked as though I had been there for
months, although only a few weeks has passed since we had departed from the
United States. Kareem
was reviewing some documents while seated in the long, thick leather couch
across the room. His feet were resting on the cherrywood coffee table, and a
pencil was perched behind his right ear. "Kareem,
I'm taking a leave for a while," I announced. "I
see," he replied, looking up from his reading. "Would you like me to
set it up with the Agency, Sir?" he asked. "Yes,
I would, Kareem. I have to do this. I have let my personal pursuits languish for
years, and I need to regain some balance in my life. I need to get back into the
field, and resume my search for the Garden. I'm not getting any younger, you
know." I smiled at Kareem. "I
agree, Sir." He smiled at me compassionately. "You should have some
time to yourself. I'll have your workload divided between the other Middle East
field offices until you're ready to return to work." "Thank
you, Kareem." I hesitated. "There's one more thing, though," I
paused. "What
is it, Professor?" Kareem looked at me intently. "I'd
like you to assist me with my research. There's too much catching up to do, and
you are so well connected in this region. How do you feel about teaming up with
me on this?" I shuffled my feet and waited nervously. "I'd
be delighted, Sir!" he beamed. "I'll notify the appropriate parties
immediately. I'm sure they can get along without us for a while!" "Fantastic!"
I exclaimed, and walked over to him, extending my hand. "Partners
again?" I asked. "Partners
again, Professor!" he affirmed. *
* * August
2005 It
took just under three weeks to wrap everything up. Somehow during the entire
fuss I turned 49 without even remembering my birthday. That meant Kareem was 29,
because he was almost exactly 20 years younger than I. Agency couriers had been
coming and going every few hours, receiving their updates and instructions from
Kareem as I watched them box all our materials and paperwork up in locked
containers for redeployment. Eventually everything settled down and we were
alone in the suddenly uncluttered hotel suite. Here
we were in a luxury hotel in the middle of Saudi Arabia, preparing to embark on
a fantastic mission. The sun was setting, and I was waiting for the bellboy to
deliver the hot tea I had ordered about 20 minutes earlier. I was looking
forward to bringing Kareem up to speed, and enlisting his aid in an intensified
search for the Garden of Eden. My burning feeling of urgency was overwhelming,
and I had to move ahead with all my strength and resources for reasons I could
not explain. There
was a knock at the door. Kareem answered it, and the bellboy brought the tray
with the tea inside and set it on the coffee table. Kareem signed the charge
slip, and locked the door after the young man. He poured two cups of the
steaming tea, and nodded at me expectantly. I strode over to the couch, and
picked up my cup of tea. Kareem lifted his beverage to his lips, and after
blowing on it slowly to disperse the heat, took a small sip. I sat down in the
overstuffed leather chair directly across from him, and casually rested my feet
on the cherrywood coffee table. I closed my eyes, and sipped my tea slowly.
Several minutes passed in silence. Finally I spoke. “Kareem,
I need you to make some discrete inquiries for me. I want a small research
submersible with an external hydraulic claw, say about ten to fifteen feet. It
needs to have an interior capable of carrying two passengers and all their
scientific and personal supplies for about a week or two. I want absolute
secrecy, and I need safe passage to the Persian Gulf at the very tip where Iraq
and Iran’s borders meet the shore.” I paused, and waited for Kareem’s
reaction. He
sipped his tea again, and then softly set the cup on the low table. “Well
Professor, that’s going to cost. A lot. Not so much the equipment, or even the
vessel, but the secrecy won’t come cheap,” he said gravely. “Kareem,
I have plenty of money. You know that. You know more about me than probably
anyone else in the world. I don’t care what it costs. I’m resuming my search
for Eden in earnest. I’m not going to get sidetracked this time. I intend to
find it. I know it sounds crazy, but my mind’s made up.” I
tried to act casual as I took another sip of tea, but clumsily bumped the edge
of the cup against my chin, spilling the scalding beverage all over my shirt and
lap. “Ow!” I exclaimed and jumped up from the chair. “Doggone it, “ I
trailed off. Kareem reached into his [pocket and tossed me his handkerchief. I
began dabbing at the tea stains and wiped off the chair before sitting back
down. “Professor,
have you considered that you are an American, working for the Secret Service no
less? We have been at war with Iran and Iraq for years. If we’re caught on
this little expedition, the best we can hope for is to be tortured and held as
prisoners of war. We could even be shot or hanged. I assume you’ve considered
the risk of what you suggest? Even our hosts, the Saudi government, might not
look too favorably upon an excursion to the lands of their enemies. They may
suspect betrayal. And the cost of silence could cost you handsomely. Secrets are
very expensive to keep in these uncertain times.” Kareem regarded me
thoughtfully. I looked back at him with compassion. “My
friend, you needn’t involve yourself in this. I would understand fully if you
chose not to participate. But I’m going, with or without you. I must find the
Garden while it is still possible. If you think it’s difficult now, imagine
the challenges a few years from now. I’m doing this thing, Kareem, and I’m
starting right away. I have to. You know me well enough to realize my mind’s
made up. So what do you say?” Kareem
smiled at me as he often did. “I’m
with you, of course. I’ll follow you to the borders of Eden, or even the gates
of Hell if you ask, Professor.” He stood, and walked around the table. He
extended his hand towards me. I shook it enthusiastically. “Partners, again,
sir!” he beamed. “Yes,
Kareem, yes.” I smiled back at him. “Partners again.”
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