Unbreakable Camels
part six, Hung Out To Dry

"Who is he?" MacGyver asked Angela, as they searched the mission from cellar to rafters for the missing man.

Angela looked as if she were at a loss. "He-- his name is Iban. He is one of my helpers. He sometimes brings us food... or money... whatever he can beg or find. Padre Deigas would sometimes have to resort to... to the black market-- to obtain hard-to-find medicines-- and he always sent Iban as his contact."

"Father Deigas had connections with smugglers?" Mac frowned at that fact.

"Oui. There was no choice-- some medicines aren't even legally available in this country. Iban told me once that he used to be a smuggler... before he lost his hand," Angela seemed embarrassed, so Mac schooled his features so that he appeared patiently interested. It wasn't her fault that the mission had to resort to clandestine means for support. He gently encouraged her to continue speaking.

"I had been expecting him earlier today. I went looking for him, because he did not come when he said that he would—mon Dieu!" Her hand flew up to her mouth; her eyes grew round and wide. "That was perhaps why I found him in such a state!"

"What do you mean?" Mac asked. Having searched the house, Angela led Mac outside into the courtyard. On the farthest end of the yard, a garden was being coaxed out of the arid soil. They looked all through the grounds, circling the dry trellises and were now coming back toward the rear of the mission. "What happened to him?"

"I found him down by le chateau de conchon... the tavern. He'd been beaten and was lying in the street. I was helping him back here when..." Angela lifted her eyes to Mac's face shyly, then looked away again quickly, "... when we bumped into each other."

Mac gave her an easy smile. "A fortuitous collision... for me."

They came to a long line where clean white sheets were hung to dry in the sun. Two robed and veiled ladies were putting out fresh laundry. Their thin, brown hands moved deftly, laying out damp sheets and pulling down and folding dry ones. Mac nodded to them as they walked past.

"So Iban is someone you trusted?" Mac asked.

Angela turned to him. "I trust him, but I do not know that you can! Monsieur MacGyver, what if he has gone to tell le conchon that you are here? They are looking for an Englishman, I have heard it said... maybe they will come here looking for you! You should go at once-- before they come!"

"I'm ready to leave when you are," Mac answered smoothly.

Angela grabbed him by the shirt with her good hand, giving him an intense stare. "You truly will not leave unless I go as well?"

Mac looked down at her. She was an admirable, petite package of a woman. Gently, he said to her, "If they come here looking for me, do you think that you'll be safe all alone? Come with me, Angela. Once you are safe, then I'll come back and finish my mission."

"Non! You should not take such risks! Not for... for just me."

"It's not just for you," Mac insisted. "Think about Father Deigas and the people that you've helped."

"Tell me what it is that you seek in this place," Angela said suddenly. "Maybe I know these answers which you so stubbornly seek!"

"Someone is selling American military secrets to terrorists. I know he works out of Jiru and that he's a pretty high-profile character, but I don't know his name."

Angela plucked at her lower lip absently, a habit which MacGyver found endearing. "Hmm. I wonder... I wonder if it is le conchon that is that man?"

"Conchon. Doesn't that mean 'pig'?"

"Oui. If you washed a pig in eau de toilet and dressed it in a suit, it would become Le Conchon! But I know not his true name." Angela looked around desperately. "If only we could find Iban! He would know!"

A crashing sound came from inside the mission. Before Angela could exclaim, a small dark child came running out of the doorway, looking around wildly. He saw Angela and ran to her, whispering something urgently while pointing back at the house.

Angela's face turned white with fear as she listened to the boy's words. "They are here! Mon Dieu! They are already here!"

⌂

Rafka Sri was a hard man. His voice was as rough as his wind burned skin, his hair dry and wiry and unkempt. His hands were strong and scarred from fighting and from working. But hardest of all his features was Rafka Sri's heart. He believed that one man's success was the result of other people's failures, and it was his goal to make as many people fail as it took to make him comfortably rich... or as he liked to put it, "The ends justify the means-- as long as it is their end and my means!"

Everyone called him Rafe, because Rafka was too soft a name for such a man.

⌂

"Tell your 'sister of mercy' that Rafe is here," he demanded to one of the elderly people who were cowering in the sick ward. He had ordered his men to surround the mission proper and grounds, but to wait there while he went inside. He didn't want to take any chances that his prey would slip through his fingers. He was tired of chasing people.

Before the old man could limp out of the room, Angela appeared in the doorway. Her dark robes and veil were in place. She had a stack of sheets folded over her hands.

"Captain Rafe, what can I do to help you today?" she asked. She handed the sheets to a helper, careful to show no sign that her wrist was injured.

Rafe gave her a leering smile that made her feel as if her robes were transparent. "Sister Anne Christine."

"Yes." She stood before him; small, defiant… humble and yet proud. Inside, she quailed, her heart as tremulous as a candle flame in a draft.

"I have only just returned home from a long journey, and I have heard that my friend Father Deigas... met some ill fortune." Rafe was missing several teeth from his rough life; his smile was as pitted as his soul.

Angela's eyes grew hard over her veil. She said nothing.

Rafe watched her reaction and seemed delighted by her anger. "I was surprised to hear that he was actually a spy. It makes one wonder if perhaps one were to look around this mission, one might find more spies."

"What? Padre Deigas was no... you are deranged!" She stepped back, gesturing widely around the room. "Look! Look all you like! You will find no spy in this house!"

"Sister," Rafe said in his gravelly voice, stepping forward to close the space between them, "I'm looking at one right now." His hand closed around her injured wrist in a cruel grip. "Come. Ryerson wants to talk with you."

⌂

Mac's Voice-over:
I recognized the man I had chased across Egypt, Israel, Saudi Arabia-- the same one who had been chasing me back through Iraq, Iran, and Afghanistan to this place.

Mac watched helplessly from the roof as this monster led Angela away, surrounded by armed men. He had not understood all the words that were exchanged, but he didn’t need a translator to know that Angela was in big trouble.

Mac’s Voice-over continued:
I almost wished that Rafe had come for me… it’s easier for me to slip out of his hands than to try to get in, rescue someone, and get out again alive. But there was no question about it… I was going to get Angela back safely.

How? Don’t ask me that yet.

And one thing that was still bothering me: why had Iban fled, and who was he… really?


~~~tbc