Thursday, January 22, 2009

A Dalliance in Darfur

It is good to be back home after a rather hectic week. Readers of my last piece will know that I had received an assignment, one that involved extracting some over-eager missionaries who had been abducted by the Janjaweed while in Darfur. I was not keen on this endeavour -- missionaries of any ilk are bothersome, the "my stone is mightier and prettier than your stone" syndrome, and I wish they'd just grow up and leave us to our own devices. Or in my case, vices.

In that one of the abducted was a niece of an American Senator (Republican, goes without saying) I was pressured by my colleague in these matters, Matilda "Tilly" Hatt of the CIA. The fee was also substantial, so off we went.

Now in any operation of this kind, one depends on certain assets, both technological and human. Thus there are certain things blocked out in this particular missive; to do otherwise puts a number of people at severe risk, most importantly of all, me. Apologies.

Now to begin. Tilly, with the help of an overhead AWAC and a ******* had located the place where the captives were being held. The place, a large tent, was heavily guarded, and while Tilly knew that it would be child's play to blast the entire area into smithereens using the new ******* missile, this would not be really beneficial to the health of the missionaries. The Janjaweed had to be encouraged to leave. This is where I came into it.

I had gone to Khartoum, and with the assistance of ****** and ******* had been vetted as a "sexual relief person" (my Arabic is no hell) to the ruler of Sudan, Omer Al-Bashir. Thus it was that I was admitted, clad in a chador, to the great man himself. I removed the chador, and saw his eyes light up. Good, I thought. I had thought long and hard about just what to wear to entice, and had selected my best alligator boots (up yours, PETA) my suede miniskirt and the tightest cashmere sweater I owned.

"Come here, " Al-Bashir ordered, and I complied. Once face to face, I swiftly reached under my skirt, withdrew a small plastic syringe containing ******* that had been overlooked in the pre-visitation search, and jabbed it into his neck. He fell back onto his desk, a flicker of fear in his eyes.

"Now then, Omer," I stated in English, with which I knew he was familiar, "this is what will happen if you do not do exactly what I say. You will notice, for instance , that you have lost all feeling in your toes and feet. In five minutes your entire body will be in the same condition, completely paralyzed. And that will last for the rest of your life."

"What do you want?" he whispered.

"One phone call. To those Janjaweed idiots holding the missionaries at ******. And you better make that call soon, or you will have no vocal chords left to do it.

"I don't --"

"Oh stop it. You pay them. Now get with it. Should you be successful, I have an antidote that will bring you back to whatever normalcy you enjoy. And don't even think of calling your guards. By my reckoning, you now have only four minutes left, and if you were going to torture the antidote out of me, well, I've withstood a lot longer than four minutes. Good Lord, man I once had to watch an entire episode of Larry King Live, the one where he was interviewing Paris Hilton. Now do it!"

I guess the drug had begun to enter his upper legs, and I could see the fear in his face. He reached for his phone, and in harsh Arabic issued orders. "There", he said, "they've been released. Now --"

Now we wait," I said. "And you hope."

Another minute passed, and then a voice rang in the receiver planted in my ear.

"It's OK, Simone," said Tilly. "The ungodly have cleared out, and there the captives were, all neatly bound and gagged in a row. We're now off the ground, and headed out. We owe you."

"Yes you do, but we'll settle up later. See you soon."

I broke the connection, and turned to Al-Bashir.

"Right. And Omer, think twice before you encourage the Janjaweed again. Dealing with the deranged always presents problems. Now hold still."

I reached into my mouth, uncapped a tooth, and withdrew a small pill. It was comprised of ****** and I was told its effect would be surprising. I popped it into the man's mouth, and within twenty seconds watched as beatific smile emerged on his face, and he began to gasp with pleasure. Interesting, that.

I put the chador on again, and rapped on the door. A guard opened it, and I said "I think satisfaction has been given."

The guard looked at Al-Bashir, who was in some kind of ecstasy. As he escorted me out, I could see a real look of respect in his eyes. "You'll have to come again," he said.

"Looking forward to it," I replied.

Not on your life brother.

Again assisted by our Khartoum assets, I was soon on a plane out of Sudan, and this quick departure suited me just fine.

I had an inauguration to attend.

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