THIRTY-FOUR – Silas Mubarak (Eddie)
Two loud pops woke Eddie shortly after midnight. He sat up when he heard one more. The pops were loud enough to where he knew they weren’t normal. He stood and walked over to the bars, straining his ears to listen for anything else up the stairs but it was silent. The only noises were down the hall—the guards talking and prisoners shuffling around their cells. What were those pops? They sounded like gunshots.
Then the little red light on the surveillance camera went off a couple minutes later. Eddie hadn’t heard a helicopter come in, and he didn’t hear anyone coming down the stairs. He took that to mean the guard who had slipped him the key was in the control room. That was his signal. This was his chance.
It was dark outside, and the prison was silent. Eddie walked to the door of his cell and reached around to insert the key in the lock. A quick twist and click and the door swung open. Eddie slowly stepped out into the hallway. He heard someone clear his throat down the hall and could see a faint silhouette highlighted by a dim light source around the corner. He tiptoed to the end of the hall, grateful the other prisoners seemed to be asleep. Eddie peeked around the corner and saw a guard walking away from him and another seated a few feet away with his face in his hands. Eddie took three quick steps and snapped the seated guard’s neck in one swift motion. He pulled the guard off the chair, donned his hat, and took up the same position the guard had occupied just seconds earlier. He saw the other guard turn around and look in his direction. The guard began to pace back. Eddie didn’t dare move too much. He counted down the guard’s steps until he was only a few yards away and then lunged at him. The guard attempted to duck and yell but Eddie shoved his hand over the guard’s mouth before he could make much of a sound. Eddie slammed the guard’s head back against the wall and then gave his neck a quick twist—yielding another distinctive crunch. Two down.
He found the cells with red circles in them, put his face against the bars and whispered “Mali.” There was no reply, so he whispered again, a little louder. “Mali.” He heard stirring and whispered a third time, “Mali, are you in there?”
“Eddie?” a female voice replied in surprise.
“Shh, yes… it’s me baby.”
A shadow approached him, but it wasn’t Mali. It was Cera, Lazzo’s wife. “Cera? Where’s Mali?” Eddie could see the troubled expression on her face. “Where’s your daughter?”
“Isabelle is…” She reached out and grabbed Eddie’s hand. “Mali isn’t—they—” Tears pooled up in her eyes. “They’re not—”
But there were three circles on the sheet. “No… she’s here—” He realized he was being too loud. “I was told she’s—”
“Eddie.” A tear ran down Cera’s face. “She died a day after the beating. Her brain—she—I—” Cera didn’t know what to say.
Eddie sank to his knees, and Cera slid down with him. He could feel tears in his eyes. He looked at Cera in shock. But there were three circles.
“Cera,” Eddie finally spoke up. He knew he didn’t have much time. “Isabelle is dead too?”
“I don’t know. Commander Boli took her.”
So Boli had been here for something else. “Why?”
“He didn’t say. Just that he needed her.”
Eddie didn’t have time to think about why Boli had taken his niece. “Who is next to you?” He pointed at the adjacent cell.
“Next to me? No one,” Cera replied. “It’s the—”
“The what?” He reacted to her sudden pause. “The what, Cera?” “It’s where they keep the coffins,” she whispered. “It’s where your wife and daughters are.”
Then it made sense. The guard probably knew Eddie’s wife and girls were dead but couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t want Eddie to suddenly become emotional. He didn’t want Eddie to react. He had to make him believe all was well. Cera apparently wasn’t even indicated on the map. Maybe the guard didn’t know who Cera was.
“Eddie, you have to go. You must leave now.”
“I’m taking you with me.”
“No, you can’t—”
“I am.”
“We’ll never—”
“We will.” Eddie unlocked her cell and swung her door open. “Stay with me.” Cera knew Eddie well enough to know there was no point in arguing. He grabbed a handgun and rifle off one of the fallen guards and walked toward the corner. Glancing down the final hallway, he saw four men seated at a table, playing cards and smoking. Eddie put his hand on Cera’s shoulder. “Wait right here a minute.”
He strode casually—head bowed—down the hallway toward the guards. One of the guards addressed him, but Eddie ignored the question. The guard repeated himself, irritated, and stood. At that moment he recognized Eddie and reached for his gun. It was too late. Eddie shot him four times and then finished off his magazine into the other three. The gunshots echoed through the hallways. Anyone outside would definitely have heard them. Prisoners in the cells rushed to their bars, begging for Eddie to free them. He ignored them. Hopefully the number of Xs on the sheet was right. He picked up two more handguns off the floor, slung an M16 over his shoulder, and whistled down the hallway for Cera. She hurried toward him. He held out his hand to her, helped her over the bodies, and swung open the door at the end of the hall. He glanced up the stairs but still couldn’t hear anything. No voices. No alarms. He slowly climbed the steps and peeked outside. One figure stood across the courtyard beneath a street lamp. Eddie recognized him as the friendly guard.
“Pssst…” Eddie tried to get his attention.
The guard motioned for him to approach and Eddie did—cautiously—pulling Cera along behind him. It could be a trap.
“I took care of the others.” The guard read Eddie’s wary look. “But more will be coming. I could not prevent the silent alarm.” Eddie nodded as the guard pointed down a staircase. “Follow these stairs down to the pier and take the boat to the location in Rincon marked with an X.” He handed Eddie the map. “There is a jeep parked there with keys in it, and a map in the glove box leading you to an airfield with a plane. Go—”
“You must come with us.”
“I can’t.”
“I cannot fly a plane.” Eddie made a flying motion with his hand.
“But you—”
“No. My brother is the pilot, not me. I can’t fly.”
“I must stay here and buy you time.”
“Then why did you help me if you don’t want to escape?”
“You don’t remember?”
Eddie shook his head. “Remember?”
“My father was Ben Mubarak. He—”
Eddie knew then exactly who this soldier was. This soldier had been a twelve-year-old boy the last time Eddie had seen him. Eddie put his hand on the young man’s shoulder before he could finish his sentence. “Silas, right? I saved your father’s life in Tripoli.” Eddie remembered the corrupt cop-led mob that had been stoning the man for stealing bread.
“Yes.” The young man nodded. “And my mother’s. I found out you were in Puerto Rico when I was in Denver and requested an assignment here. I thought I might be able to help. I owe you—”
“You owe me nothing. Your father did not deserve to die for feeding his family. You—he would be very proud of you. You have helped me plenty. And now, you must come with me.”