He said, "Okay. Okay, I'm ready."
Jibriil let out a deep breath. Smile coming to his face. "Thank God."
They rejoined the men in the middle of the street, Jibriil about to start talking when Adem said, "I'd like to make one request, if that's okay with you, sir."
Farah narrowed his eyes, but it wasn't anger. More like he was amused by the weak American standing up to him like that. He told the other officers in Arabic, "What kind of monster have we created here?"
Laughter. Then, "Hear him out, at least. He's already started negotiating hasn't he?"
Did they think he didn't know Arabic? Hadn't they tested him, like, two minutes ago? Adem said, "Please, it's not much to ask."
More laughter from the officers, but Farah wasn't so happy this time. Adem continued in Arabic. "I would like an assistant, especially since I'm still not completely healthy yet. There's a woman who helps me here, Sufia, and I could really make use of her kindness until I'm fully recovered."
No one was laughing anymore. Farah stared into Adem's face. Taking it apart in his mind? The tall man finally said, "Absolutely not."
Jibriil leaned towards Adem. "It's not the way-"
"I'm sick of that answer. I know it's not what they do here. But it's what I want, and I can at least ask."
"You asked, he said no. There."
Adem turned back to Farah, Jibriil's hand wrapping around his bicep. "Why not?"
Not used to being talked to like this. The tall man let out a breath, probably dismissing the little bastard. There was always combat if that's what he preferred. Farah said, "We can give you a nurse. We can give you an assistant. There's no need-"
"Tell me, you can give me a cook, someone to change my bandages, someone to help with my schedule. But you can't give me a woman who speaks English better than I do. One who was educated in London. I don't need an assistant. I need her. If she's in a meeting, maybe she sees or hears something I miss. Body language. Tone. I don't know. But believe me, you want both of us for this."
Farah couldn't help but grin as Adem pled Sufia's case. He turned to the other officers. "A born negotiator. I'm glad he's on our side. Otherwise, I would kill him where he stands."
Adem flinched. But held his ground and his tongue. Nothing else to say.
One of the other officers motioned to Jibriil. "You know the girl he's talking about?"
"Yes, she's helped his recovery greatly."
Nods all around.
Farah finally stuck out his hand. "Deal. But you pay her out of your cut. You find her a place to stay. Not with you."
Adem shook it. He wondered what else he could've gotten-more money? Two weeks vacation? But Sufia was worth more than any of that. The others began walking back to the hospital. Adem didn't have anything to pack. He wondered if they would let him keep his rifle. He hadn't seen it since being dragged from the truck, so it was probably lost forever, in the hands of some twelve-year-old ready to take on the infidels. Let him have it. Adem preferred a shower, a bed, and some time alone with Sufia.
Jibriil told Farah, "I'd also like to send along a bodyguard, if that's okay. I know you might have plenty of men for this, but I can send a man with combat experience, someone vested in keeping Adem away from danger at all costs."
Not a bodyguard, Adem thought. A babysitter. Maybe the guard who had been watching him his entire time here, never got his name. Whatever. If he wanted to stand in the hall with his gun and look bored, fine.
At the hospital, a jeep awaited Farah, his driver very much looking like a pirate-sleeveless shirt, bandana around his head. Scars on his arms, face. Staring daggers. Farah told one of the officers to find Sufia. Jibriil called out to one of his soldiers, but Adem missed exactly what he said. The soldier rushed off.
Jibriil slapped a hand on Adem's back, pride spilling out of him. "Trust me, this job is important. I even think it can help you make it home."
"Really?"
"No promises. If this goes well, there are high hopes for you."
"For what? I don't get it. If I get them a good ransom, I'm set free? Is that the deal you made?"
"Better than that. Much better." Wide smile.
"Cut it out. Tell me already." He'd been standing too long. Shifted from foot to foot and again and again.
Jibriil said, "If you prove yourself, then they will see you are perfect to lead crusades back home. A long one, where you will plan and guide our people towards a strike against the Cities. One big target. You understand?"
Adem first thought he meant Target Center, the arena in Minneapolis where the Timberwolves played basketball, and where many pop artists help concerts. Adem had been there several times to see games and shows. He saw Jamie Foxx in concert there last summer. But then he realized, the prize, the one big symbolic strike that would really hit at the heart of American indifference and consumerism.
"The Mall."
"Now you see. The Mall."
The Mall of America in Bloomington, south of the Metro. Adem hadn't gone there much, but of course he'd gone. Everyone had to go at least once. Huge, so much stuff to buy. Filled at all times of the day or night. Some tourists came from out of town to shop there-that was the whole vacation. A bus from your hotel would drop you off at the mall, pick you up. It was like a city. You could practically live there if you played your cards right and had some money in your pocket. To hear Jibriil say it this way, excited, hopeful, even, chilled Adem. He remembered hanging out there with Jibriil, meeting up with girls, talking about all the clothes and watches and sunglasses they couldn't afford.
Adem couldn't imagine how he would react if a suicide bomber detonated himself while he was there buying some sneakers. Four, five, six bombers at once, strategically placed. More, even. The scary part was that he could pull it off, easily. His stomach twisted. His sweat felt colder.
A soldier arrived with Sufia behind him. She looked confused but placid. Nothing about Farah intimidated her, either. Made Adem feel all puffed up. Wanted to say, That's my girl.
Farah said, "Adem has been given an important assignment in Bosaso. He'll be working with us. You will come along to assist him."
"Sir?"
"He requested you. You'll help him."
Shouldn't she be smiling? Or at least trying to hide it? Adem said, "You've been so helpful, I thought…anyway…"
She nodded. Still no sign of gratitude. "I have work here, caring for the soldiers, preparing food, so much to do."
Farah, loudly, "There's always someone else for that. We've already decided. Your needs will be provided for. We're ready to go."
Finally a glance from Sufia. Those eyes. Adem raised his eyebrows. Great, yeah? Isn't it? But what he got back from her made him feel like hiding. Such a contemptuous stare. A frown. Adem looked at the ground to escape it.
And then a young soldier joined them, stopping his run, kicking up dust. Out of breath. Adem kept looking down. His boots.
"You wanted me, sir?"
The voice got Adem's attention. The last one he wanted to hear. Raised his chin. This wasn't his guard at all. It was Garaad. Good ol' Garaad, ready to take off Adem's head in a second. An idiot full of bloodlust. No, please, not this, Jibriil. Anything but this.
Jibriil pointed towards Adem, then Farah. "My friend here is going to Bosaso to do some important work. He needs you to watch over him, protect him. It is very important you keep him safe."
Garaad was nodding the entire time, hands on his hips while he caught his breath. "Yes sir. I will, sir. You can count on me."