Dalliance in the Desert, Part I

Bit late with this entry, but a trip to and from Libya, and a bit of bobbing around in the Mediterranean Sea, does result in some delay. I am also writing this on a laptop in a Naples hospital, having had a bullet removed from my thigh.

Then the phone at my bedside rang. It was Sir Harry.

He was furious.

"What on earth did you think you were doing?" he shouted over the secure line. "I told you to stay well away from Gadhafi. We have things in hand."

I replied, "This had nothing to do with old Moammar. It involved a rescue operation for the physicist working on the X algorithm. The country is in all likelihood heading for civil war among the clans, and the project was at risk."

"It's not one of our projects. It's an American thing. You had no business risking --"

"I got the schematic."

Sir Harry paused, then said, "Well, as the Americans would say, 'No shit.' Perhaps I could send our attache Cyril around --"

"Only if all is well between us."

"All is fine. I'll get on to the consulate right away."

So that was that. Now for some background.

The whole thing began with a plea from Matilda Hatt, my close CIA friend and confidante. She was requesting my help in retrieving a scientist from deep in the Libyan desert. Tilly knew that I had connections in this area, stemming from my late husband's grandfather, Lord Strunsky II.

He had done some great favour in the past to a major Libyan clan, something involving healthy payment for railway concessions. T.E. Lawrence was also a player here, but I never learned exactly what it was all about. Suffice it to say, the clan chiefs were grateful, and had made Lord Strunsky and his progeny honorary clan members.

This meant that yours truly was known to that particular clan as 'Precious Daughter', and was received with great courtesy whenever I visited, something I had done twice previously. I was also off-limits to any of the young men, a situation that eased my mind considerably, albeit not completely. Some of the sheiks were rather attractive in an Araby sort of way....

Tilly knew all this, and also knew that I had access to the area where the scientist was working on perfecting the algorithm.* Events, however, were moving fast. Gadhafi was in trouble, all the clans were on edge, and civil war was becoming a real possibility. In Tilly's words, "We have to get the bugger out. Fast."

But now at the hospital, it's lights out. In my next entry, I will narrate just what happened. And I certainly won't take so long.

* Readers will understand that what is being described as 'the algorithm' has nothing to do with what the physicist was actually working on. I am not Julian Assange, nor was meant to be.