THE ANGRY DOVES
By Dorian Scott Cole
Copyright 1980, 1987, by Dorian Scott Cole
This book is copyright material, not public domain, and all rights are reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in any media. This book may not be sold or included in any collection. The reader may make a printed copy of this book for his personal use.
All characters in this book are a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental
William and Kenza returned to Beirut after a brief respite in Morocco. William had called Gerald and asked him to take on a security role to help protect them in Lebanon. After a few choice words about the dangers of women in field work, he had agreed. The first night, they stayed in a hotel, meeting Gerald the next morning at the apartment. Gerald had been there for a day, and had brought along a motorcycle for his own transportation.
Gerald inspected the damaged yacht with William and Kenza, and then helped Kenza down the ladder. Seeing her bravery in the face of the terrorists confronting her, he gained a new respect for her and was immediately more pleasant toward Kenza, seeming to drop his male chauvinist attitude. "So, are you about to charm the socks off Ismail?" he asked her, smiling pleasantly.
"Of course," she replied with charmingly.
"It's going to be a delicate balance," William said, climbing down the ladder.
"We went to see one of William's CIA friends," Kenza explained. "Art gave William some good advice, mixed in with the usual rubbish."
"Art made an impression on me. When we finished talking about how he used force to control people, he said, 'Keep an eye on your backside; you make a lot of enemies.' I said, 'Enemies? I always felt that by being a nice guy, people shoved me around a lot anyway."
"I'll never forget his reply," Kenza continued. "It was beautiful... classic. He said, 'There are people out there, like me, who shove everyone around a lot. They don't care if you're nice or not, they shove you just the same. The difference is, nice guys know how to control their reaction without turning it into a war.
"Take it from a bad guy, nice guys don't finish last, they come out on top most of the time. It's us push and shove guys, who don't care about others, that keep coming out last. We win a few battles and lose the war."
"Well, when you need a push and shove guy, here I am," Gerald said, bowing. "So, what's your strategy, William?"
"Today you and I are going to install some basic protective devices in the apartment."
"That won't stop them from bombing the place. How are you going to do that? send them a bottle of champagne and a friendship card?"
"Of course not. We're going to use a combination of force and incentives. First, we're going to threaten to totally destroy their terrorist credibility if they ever attack us. Then we'll show them how they further their cause by leaving us alone or cooperating with us."
"Sounds good," Gerald commented. "Let's hope it works."
They began installing intrusion alarms to alert them and Gerald to anyone trying to enter the apartment. The apartment grew hot since they had the air conditioning off to install wiring, and had the doors open.
Seeing them wipe sweat from their brows, Kenza said, "I think I'll get you some cold drinks," and went into the kitchen.
A moment later, a scream and the sound of a struggle brought William in a dash for the kitchen. He saw a man struggling through the outside door with Kenza. William stepped into the kitchen, but was immediately held at bay by an uzzi pointed
toward him. A third man stepped toward the living room door to go after Gerald. He crouched at the doorway, and then moved quickly forward to take Gerald by surprise. Gerald, waiting for him beside the door, kicked the man in the face as he moved through the door.
The man guarding William, momentarily disconcerted, started to fire his uzzi at William; but William, seeing the man's moment of decision was coming, dropped to the floor as the man fired and rolled toward the man, using his legs as a scissors to topple him.
Gerald, seeing through the window the first man escaping with Kenza, dove headlong through the closed window, knocking the man and Kenza to the ground. He rolled once, and was immediately on his feet kicking the gun away and pinning him to the ground.
"Are you OK, Kenza?" Gerald asked.
She nodded, brushing herself off and rubbing her bruises.
William and Gerald tied the three men up and took them into the kitchen. Inside they found a paper on the floor with a scorpion with its tail stinging Israel. William recognized it as Khaled's insignia, the one he used to make certain he got credit for his terrorist deeds.
"Looks like I get to talk to Khaled earlier than I thought."
"What are you going to do with these two?" Gerald asked. "Kill them?"
"We'll give them back to Khaled. He can deal with them."
"Are you going to take them back to Khaled?" Kenza asked fearfully.
"No, we'll let him come to us. He's going to wonder what happened very soon, and he'll send someone looking."
* * *
Late that night, having set an elaborate trap, William and Gerald took up position on a rooftop on a vacant building near the apartment and waited for Khaled's men. William had put Kenza safely in a hotel, knowing it was unlikely he could control the situation well enough to protect her. At one a.m., they
saw a man go around the apartment, looking in the windows. Gerald started to go after him, but William stopped him. "He's a scout and a trap. Wait."
Ten minutes later, two more men arrived and entered the apartment while the first man stood outside, keeping watch. Again Gerald wanted to go after them, but William said, "No. there's more out there, waiting for us to make a move."
William pressed a radio controlled switch, silently releasing gas inside the house, putting them to sleep.
"Now wait," William said. The man standing watch outside looked inside, patiently circling the apartment for several minutes looking in all the windows. He signaled and three more men appeared. Surrounding the building they looked cautiously in all the windows, then conferred for a minute, and then took attack positions near the doors and windows. Two men entered while the other two waited outside. After a few minutes they gave the all clear signal to the other two, and they entered. William again turned on the gas. Watching through his infrared night scope, Gerald could see no movement inside the house after ten minutes. Again Gerald wanted to go down after the man keeping watch.
"Keep an eye out now for the person who was overseeing this. He won't go in there, but he will leave soon."
Gerald took his night scope and began searching the streets, looking for someone. They heard the sound of a motorcycle starting and leaving. That had to be the one. "Shall I go after him?" Gerald asked.
"No, I want the word to get back to Khaled, but I didn't want that man to see us enter the building. I want what happened in there to be a big mystery to Khaled. They may have another man or two posted to watch, so you and I will sneak down there and tie them all up, leaving the lights off.
The following day they kept watch. William positioned himself inside the
vacant building and watched the street in front of the apartment, and the left side. Gerald took up position on his motorcycle in an alley off the street on the right side of the apartment, watching the street and rear of the apartment.
At nine am a man on a motorcycle slowed as he went passed the front of the building, looking into it. He wore the traditional robes, but combat boots instead of sandals. Turning left, he went slowly past the side of the building.
William alerted Gerald over his transceiver. "That's him. Take him out before he leads you into a trap."
Gerald's motorcycle was larger and much more powerful than the terrorist's. Within a block, Gerald was beside him and forced him into an alley, and then into a wall. The man reached into his robe for his uzzi, but Gerald backhanded him, knocking him backwards off the motorcycle. The terrorist attempted to rise, but Gerald stepped on his hand and kicked him in the head, knocking him unconscious.
Gerald cradled him in his arms on the front of the motorcycle and using the alleys, took him back to William, who had relocated to the yacht showroom. William wanted the terrorist to see neither where he had hidden the other terrorists in the apartment, nor the vacant building they were using for a lookout post.
When the terrorist awoke, he found he was bound and had two pistols pointed at him, William's and Gerald's. William waited until the man's head was clear then said to him, "I want you to take a message to Khaled."
"No one fights Khaled and lives!" the man spat. "You are a fool!"
"Tell Khaled he's smart as a terrorist, but he doesn't know how to play my game. Tell him he is too smart to become a fool. Tell him if he touches any one of us, then one of his men is going to desert him and begin telling all kinds of things about him. For example, it will become known that he is really
a puppet for Lybia and his real goal is to conquer Palestine, Lebanon, and Syria."
"That's a lie," the terrorist shouted. "Syria is his friend."
"Not when we get done. When we get done Khaled will have no allies. Syria will cut him off and he'll have no way to finance his terrorist activities. And tell him this same man is going to provide proof that he is Khaled's lover."
With that, the terrorist screamed, writhing against the ropes binding him. "You filthy swine! No one will believe you."
"He will carry Khaled's insignia, and tell of things no one could know about Khaled but someone very close to him."
"You know nothing! Nothing! Filthy lies only!"
"We have six of your men. We know where Khaled is and we can get to him anytime. There is nothing we can't do or we don't know, and there are several other groups working here besides us. You go tell Khaled he is too smart to be a fool." William nodded to Gerald.
Gerald helped the man to his feet and unbound him.
"Give me the other six men," the terrorist demanded.
"Tell Khaled to show me how smart he is. Tell him to find them."
They got a truck, put three of the terrorists aboard the damaged yacht and pulled it to a remote landing. Followed by Gerald in a power boat, William piloted the craft six miles into the Mediterranean, dropped anchor, and returned to shore with Gerald. They returned to the showroom, stowed all their personal belongings on the other yacht, put one terrorist in the cabin and left the other two in closets in the apartment interior. Pulling the yacht with the single terrorist inside, they moved deep into Lebanon's interior, stopping
finally in a deserted area and put the yacht between two hills.
They donned disguises, returned to Beirut, and checked into a hotel under different names, at different times in three separate rooms. Gerald then disguised himself in Arab dress and passed the showroom at regular intervals to see if the terrorists had tried to retaliate. By the end of two nights, nothing had happened. They returned to the apartment the following morning and released the two terrorists.
"Give Khaled this message," William said to them. "As soon as I get his pledge to leave us alone, I'll turn the other four loose."
When the terrorist had gone, William instructed Gerald, "Let's get the other four now and hide them where they can't be found. I guess you're going to have the chore of feeding them for a few days."
Near dawn, William returned to the hotel where Kenza was waiting. She was fully clothed, looking like she hadn't slept for a week. "Is everything OK?" she asked, her voice sounding tired and strained.
"That's one down," William said to her. "As soon as I receive a message from Khaled that he is going to leave us alone, we can move back to the apartment."
"One isn't enough," she replied, sounding depressed. "The television news today reported Ismail has returned to his Parliament post, after recuperating from a long illness in Jerusalem."
William fell back on the bed. "First I'm going to sleep for two days."
"What did you do to Khaled's men?"
William explained the whirlwind of events to her. The more he talked, the more tired and depressed she looked.
When he finished she said, "Don't you remember what Art said about the
power game? It's confrontation. It's us against them. It's do something bad to you, and you do something worse to me. Isn't that just what you're doing to Khaled? Sooner or later, won't he find an opportunity to do something worse to us?"
"We have to make sure he doesn't. But what would you have me do, turn tail and run, or invite him to tea?"
Kenza shook her head. "I'm too tired to think. But I don't like it. What are you going to tell Samuel? You know what he said about paramilitary operations."
"We have to protect ourselves whether they like it or not. I'll write a simple report stating that Khaled has made threats, but has not carried any out. That's basically the truth."
"What if something happens to us? Your government will never know what happened."
William shrugged. "What difference would it make?"
Kenza shook her head and laid down on the bed, exhausted. "I love you, William. When will there be time for us?"
"Soon," he whispered to her, and held her close as they drifted to sleep.
* * *
Late the next day Gerald visited their hotel room. He removed a paper from his pocket and handed it to William. It was a message from Khaled, on his personalized paper, scorpion stinging Israel. It read, "You have not won, Duvall. Fear every moment you are in Lebanon, because very soon you will make a mistake, and when I'm done torturing your soul, Allah can have it. You are a dead man."
He showed it to Kenza. "We got what we wanted. A stalemate." They returned to the showroom apartment and William began to plan to meet Ismail.
"Are you going to wait until Ismail finds us here?" Kenza asked.
William could see she was frightened at the thought of another terrorist encounter like the last one. "No, we're going to him."
"Yes, we just need to get put on the list of people invited to government socials. I think our Embassy should have a little party, and invite Ismail and us. In that controlled situation, he can't hurt us."
Kenza smiled devilishly, "So, you're going to invite him to tea?" They laughed at the absurdity of it all.
The Embassy soon had a reception for a few new diplomats, and Ismail was invited. He brought his ever present bodyguard, Hadid, with him. Seeing William and Kenza across the crowded room, they froze in position, their drinks in midair. William approached them, all smiles, and guided them toward a quiet area of the room.
"You were warned, Duvall, to get out of Lebanon," Ismail said forcefully in hushed tones."
"Khaled Quatani has already tried throwing us out and killing us. He has decided he is better off leaving us alone."
The two recoiled in disbelief. "You're a fool, Duvall. What do you -
"My name is William," William interrupted. "And this is my wife, Kenza." Kenza raised an eyebrow at the word wife, but kept her silence. "I'm going to be of great help to you, and I hope you welcome that very soon. But if you intend to do us any harm, we have prepared a nice dossier on you and Hadid. We haven't had the opportunity to give it to the Parliament members or the President, but we did leave it with a friend out of the country. If anything happens to us, our friend will make
sure everyone gets a copy. So you had better take good care of us."
Ismail looked at them bitterly. "I see how you work, Mister Duvall. I will never accept your help," he hissed.
"I'm sorry you feel that way. I believe in your goals, and even bigger ones. With my help you can accomplish them much more easily."
Hadid countered, "The only help we want from you is in digging your grave, which I intend to see happens very soon."
Ismail signaled for Hadid to be quiet, and said to William, "I'm not going to spend my time fighting you, so I'll explain this just once. Mr. Duvall, this is our affair. There are already too many forces in Lebanon - that's the trouble we are trying to end - so we certainly don't want another.
Get out of Lebanon. Whatever you are trying to do here is hopeless. If I see you again, I will assume you are trying to interfere in my affairs, and I will kill you. Understand?"
Growing angry at Ismail, William's eyes burned into Ismail like hot coals, and speaking with iron in his voice said, "I understand, now you understand. I'm not here to play games with a rag tag army. The kind of trouble you're trying to create can destabilize this region and bring the entire world into a war. We can't allow you to do that. If Syria or the PLO doesn't kill you or your men, I'll be forced to stop you. We're offering you a much better alternative. Think about it."
Taking Kenza's arm, William turned away, leaving before Ismail could say no. He stopped at the door and looked back momentarily, seeing Ismail restraining Hadid from going after them.
William knew the next few days were going to be positioning. He and Ismail would dance around each other looking for weaknesses and strengths and
testing each other's resolve. He tried to prepare Kenza for that, knowing that Ismail might make threats in a last attempt to scare them off, but would not carry them out. They reopened the showroom and William had Gerald sit in for him as salesman. He would use his time bugging Ismail's home and following Ismail and Hadid to learn the pattern of their activities.
Leaving the apartment at three a.m., William traveled to Hadid's apartment building, where he lived alone, to wait. Seeing Hadid leave at five, he followed him. Hadid drove to William's showroom and parked in an alley near there, obviously setting up watch on William. William parked near the rear entrance to the alley and kept watch on Hadid.
Hadid remained there until three pm, eating occasionally from food in his car. William was similarly prepared. At three, Hadid went to a restaurant, ate a hasty meal, and returned to the alley. At midnight he returned to his apartment.
When the second day began to follow the pattern of the first, William went to Ismail's home, installed a bug, then returned to watch Hadid. When Hadid went to the restaurant at three, William decided to have some fun. Going into the same restaurant, he took a table near the door with his back to Hadid, but where Hadid could see him, appearing not to have noticed Hadid. He ordered coffee and pie, and pretended to do paperwork, but using a table knife as a mirror he watched Hadid.
He found after a couple of hours that he had indeed cultivated an interest in the financial side of the business, on paper, and that Hadid was still consuming coffee. William continued his paperwork for another hour, then ordered dinner. He knew Hadid didn't dare leave because he was following him. Finishing his dinner at seven, he ordered more coffee, and continued his paperwork. His bladder was beginning to burn, but, having nothing better to do, he decided to keep up the contest and see who blinked first. Hadid might have drunk more coffee than he.
By eight o'clock, William was in serious pain, but he ordered more coffee. He would loved to have seen Hadid's expression as he ordered yet another cup, but he dared not look and give himself away. He ordered cake, hoping it would absorb the liquid. By nine the pain overcame the fun of it. Rinsing gingerly with slow cautious movements, he went to the rest room, seeing Hadid rise and follow in the same manner, hurrying, but carefully.
Reaching the door at the same time, William began to chuckle at their plight. Hadid looked dour as he entered, but as William continued to chuckle, he could not help but smile. The smiles and chuckles were infectious, and soon they were both laughing. Two men about to enter the rest room, heard them and quickly changed their minds and backed out, bringing more laughter from the two spies. They both continued chuckling as they paid their bills and went to their separate homes.
William listened to the bug in Ismail's home for three days and learned of his new plans. He decided it was time to have another meeting with Ismail, confront him with what he knew, and force him to stop his plans. The evening of the third day he drove to Ismail's house.
When Ismail opened the door the look on his face portrayed hatred, disgust, and contempt, but he said nothing and led William into his study. They sat in chairs facing each other, Ismail waiting passively for William to speak.
"As you might suspect, I'm on to your plan to build your operation here and conduct terrorist attacks on the Syrian Army here in Lebanon." Ismail stepped backward in surprise.
William saw he had him off guard, and continued, "Stop your armed revolution or you will be exposed."
Ismail considered William's statements quietly for a moment, leaning back,
fingers together and touching his pursed lips, looking more like a politician than the leader of terrorists. "You play a nice game of chess, William. So, you think you have my Queen, and have me in checkmate - nowhere to go. But you're not playing the same game, you see, because I'm not playing chess."
"What do you mean?"
"You think the object of the game is to prevent me from operating. You destroyed my camp in Syria. Now I have no camp to destroy, so you will have to kill me to stop me. And what good will that do? My people will only suffer more because of my loss, which isn't what you want. You see, I'm not going to play your game."
William saw Ismail's chess strategy was to misstate the problem and hopefully talk William out of opposing him. "Perhaps if you knew my game better, you would want to play. Let's talk about my game: help from outside, power, influence, money, sound advice. I'm in a position to offer you these to help your people. I can put the odds of success heavily in your favor instead of heavily against you."
Ismail looked contemptuous. "Was your Jesus tempted with so much in the wasteland? I know at what price these things come. I will not be your puppet."
William was ready for that argument. "I'm not interested in puppets. We want this area stable and peaceful, and we believe you have the ability to serve those interests if we can just get you to quit creating havoc here."
"Controlling how I operate isn't a string?" Ismail shot back angrily. He rose and turned to the wall of books lining his study. "You don't understand, William Duvall, and understanding is everything." He leaned against his books.
"'Do it my way,' you say. You have answers, but you don't even understand the questions." He walked slowly around the room, sighing as he went. "You come
here expecting to force me to do things your way. You ask us to swap living in fear under terrorists, to living under your control. What does that mean? Swap one threat for another? We are the Lebanese. We are the Palestinians. We will not live under control, we will live our way."
Ismail stopped near the window. He pointed outside. "My people have lost so much that threats mean nothing to us. Get out among the people and understand them and their problems. See that they are afraid to go outside, and their children can't go to school. Then come volunteer as my soldier, not my commander."
William started to counter that he could not permit Ismail to upset the balance of power in the area, but decided it was not the time to make threats. Ismail had a valid point and William could understand why he would not submit to control. William would have to change his strategy in order to win Ismail over. Ismail would use the people as his rallying cry, then so would he. He left with no comment, thinking he would have to find ways to incorporate the people into his plans.
Kenza had been on pins and needles ever since William had mentioned going to see Ismail. When he entered the apartment, she inhaled deeply, allowed a final shudder, and let herself relax. William sat next to her on the sofa and held her close.
After a moment he broke the silence. "Ismail will be a Lebanese, with no outside power over him."
Kenza smiled, saying, "Bully for him. Now give us a minutes peace together before you get me stirred up again. If it's over, then it's our time. I want a night together."
William began rubbing her tight shoulder and neck muscles. In fifteen minutes she was sound asleep, exhausted from the tension. He carried her to bed.
The next morning she awoke with, "How did it go?"
William smiled longingly at her. "Perfect," he said, gazing into her eyes. "This is our time, remember?" He kissed her, enjoying her soft, moist lips, feeding on them insatiably. He pulled her body closer to him, feeling the softness of her skin against him.
Her arms were immediately around him, gently, lovingly pulling him closer. "It's been too long!" she moaned with pleasure. His fingers traced the curve of her neck, soft, golden skin, embracing the beauty of her features, defining her femininity. As she tilted her head, enjoying his touch, his lips caressed the golden pasture like butterflies gathering nectar. His hand continued to her breast, gently cupping it like a treasure, kissing it gently, his tongue touching the nipple. She sighed with deep yearning. He continued to coax it gently.
Her hands, rigid with pleasure, plied against his sides, wondering at the metal of his muscles. She pulled herself against his solid chest, kissing it like a kitten licking milk. She felt his thigh muscle, like a tree limb come to life, responding to the touch of her hand. She marveled at the gentleness that could come from such a strong hard man, as she cupped him, feeling both the hard and the soft. Still cupping him, she pulled gently. He caught his breath, and placing his hand between her legs, he kissed her passionately and began stroking her slowly and gently until neither could stand it any more, and he was on her, relieving weeks of frustration and tension and madness. For a few moments, there were none but them and there was no more conflict, and they were one again, lost in the pleasure of each other's bodies.
Next: Chapter 16