Finally he said a bit more deliberately, 'So now you are international terrorists. The only help I know of must also come from the international terrorists.'
'How?' said May Lin.
'I have a brother-in-law, whom I loathe. He's a more or less friendly chap personally, but I loathe what he stands for, and I had promised myself I would never again have anything to do with him. But still, he owes me a favour. His name is Hamid. He lives in this region. He may even be here in Islamabad.
'How can he help?'
'He specialises in helping people get in and out of countries. I'll look him up and see what he can do. Perhaps, in the mean time, you three should get some passport photos taken.'
'So if we're going to be terrorists, we might just as well do it all the way then,' said Ernie.
'Wisdom said we disguise as terrorists,' remembered May Lin.
Abdul invited the three to a nice restaurant for a meal. On the way, he and Ibrahim began conversing in Arabic.
'Ibrahim,' he said, as they sat down at the table. 'You're going to go on a trip to America. Have you ever eaten a hamburger?'
'No, Sir, I have never had American food,' he answered.
'What do you eat when you're together?'
'They tell me to choose, so I get nan and dahl, or else mutton curry or sometimes brianni.'
'In America, they eat nothing but hamburgers and hot dogs,' said Uncle Abdul.
'Hot dogs?'
Abdul translated it for him, literally.
'Oh! But Uncle Abdul! Allah forbids us to eat dog!' Then, in Zondon, he asked Ernie, 'In America do they eat dogs?'
Everybody laughed.
'Don't worry, Ibrahim. I'd never order anything for you that's not halal. They only call them hot dogs.' Uncle Abdul said.
When that was translated into English, Ernie added, in English and Zondon, 'But most hot dogs are made with pork!'
Finally, Ibrahim consented to eat a hamburger. The others ordered local food.
'What did you eat on the planet where you came from?' asked Uncle Abdul, in Arabic.
'I don't know!' Then in Zondon, he said, 'What did we eat on Zuz?' then immediately in Arabic again, 'I have to use the crystal thing again to remember! I don't know what we ate.'
Ernie said in English, 'We didn't eat durian, we've determined that much.'
May Lin broke out laughing, Ernie joined her, and the other two just looked at them.
'A private joke, if I'm not mistaken?' said Abdul.
They recounted a bit of the conversation they had in Peshawar.
'So it's as though you're from two places,' said Abdul. 'And you remember the former place through use of the crystal.'
'It extends our human mind so we can both remember our Zondon past and have the same mental capacity as a Zondon,' explained Ernie.
Ibrahim whispered to May Lin, 'What are they saying?' She began translating for him.
Ernie continued, 'Also, while using the crystal, we hear Wisdom. He tells us what to do next and gives us all sorts of advice. That's how we knew to ask you for help.'
'You speak of Wisdom as though it were a person!'
'That's the only way I can describe it.'
Ibrahim added, in Arabic, 'It's the Emanation of Allah.'
'The Emanation of Allah,' repeated Uncle Abdul slowly in Arabic. Then in English, he said, 'I don't suppose a person like me would be capable of using the crystal to hear Wisdom?'
'Wisdom speaks in many forms,' explained May Lin. 'He said he spoke to Ernie through you, didn't he, Ernie.'
'Through me!'
Ernie explained, 'When you rushed me out of Egypt. You were like the mouthpiece of Allah you were! I would have taken my own sweet time, and Dr. Stanovitch would have done his thing with May Lin!'
'Hmmm!'
The food arrived, and Ibrahim found he rather liked hamburger -- sort of.
Ernie asked about Eddie.
'He's very absorbed in the study of the high priest's tomb, which has proven to be an enigma indeed. It's obvious it wasn't built to be a tomb at all, because the way the objects are placed doesn't match the functionality of the chamber. We tested the monument for the date, and we found that though the inscription is about the right year for the death of Thakanamen, the monument itself is much older by some three or four thousand years.'
Interesting. What do you make of it?' said Ernie.
'What do I make of it? Your brother has no idea what to make of it, but in my humble opinion, just between the four of us, Allah built it Himself, and the high priest Thakanamen stole it. It was made for your crystal.'
'That's probably why the image of Ra slid off the pedestal when the crystal landed,' remembered Ernie.
Conversation went on to other things.
Ibrahim told Abdul a Mullah Nasruddin joke:
'Mullah Nasruddin went into a shop to buy a pair of trousers. Then he changed his mind and chose a cloak instead, at the same price. Then, he picked up the cloak and left the shop. The merchant shouted, "You have not paid," Mullah Nasruddin said, "I left you the trousers, which were of the same value as the cloak." Then the merchant said, "But you did not pay for the trousers either!" The Mullah said, "Of course not! Why should I pay for something that I did not want to buy?"'
After that Abdul paid the bill, and they made their way back.
When they arrived at the hotel, Abdul said he would try to look up his brother-in-law. With that, he returned to his room in the Holiday Inn.
It was bed time.
The next day the three had photos taken at a photo shop in the hotel lobby. Late in the day Uncle Abdul returned.
'I've located Hamid. He can help, but you must go to Kabul.'
'Kabul!? Ai yo!' responded May Lin.
'How will we get out of Pakistan, let alone to Kabul?' asked Ernie.
'I told you. They are specialists in getting people anywhere they need to go -- or, as is applicable in most cases, where they have no business going.'
'So, what's the plan?'
'First thing tomorrow, someone will be by to fetch you. I've given them your room number. Be ready at five a.m. I've paid for your room already, so you just need to slip out the back door. I'll check you out later in the morning, just as a courtesy to the hotel management. Also, here's something to keep you going.'
He handed Ernie an envelope.
'But, Uncle Abdul! You shouldn't!'
'For the well being of the universe. Also, May Lin will need to dress up a bit. Here is a traditional Afghan woman's outfit with the head scarf. In Kabul it's required dress.' He handed them a wrapped bundle.
After a dozen profuse 'thank yous', Uncle Abdul was off.
Ernie opened the envelope and counted ten thousand U.S. Dollars.
Chapter 18
Just as Uncle Abdul said, there was a knock at the door at five the next morning. The three were packed and ready; May Lin clothed from head to toe, and Ernie and Ibrahim, in their local clothes.
'Ernest Magawan, Tan May Lin and Ibrahim Zalman?' said the Arab looking man.
'That's us,' answered Ernie.
The man introduced himself as 'Ali.'
'You're a friend of Hamid?'
'I will take you to Hamid. He is in Kabul,' said Ali.
Ali helped them with their things, and led them to the fire escape at the end of the hall. He opened the door and looked out both ways before letting them out. Then they followed him down the five flights of stairs to the bottom, where a four-wheel-drive van was waiting. A driver waited inside.
The three got into the back seat, Ali got in next to the driver, and they were off through the back streets of Islamabad. The windows were covered with a dark film, so while they could see out, it was impossible for anyone to see who was inside.
Soon, they were on a highway where the signs indicated that Peshawar was somewhere ahead.
After it got light, they stopped at a village market where they had breakfast. Then, they were off again.
&
nbsp; Before they got to Peshawar, they turned off onto a dirt road, and continued along, apparently bypassing Peshawar.
Later, Ali turned around and said, 'We are now in the Khyber Pass. The rout we are taking was once used by drug traffickers before the Taliban abolished opium growing.'
After a while, with no ado whatsoever, they were in Afghanistan.
Altogether it was a nine hour drive. Judging by the cars that overtook them it could have been less, but obviously the driver wasn't interested in shattering the suspension of his fine vehicle, nor the backs of his passengers.
For all its beauty, there were obvious signs that the nation had been at war for the past 20 years. Once section, they were told, was the scene of a remarkable ambush on the Soviets by the Mujihideen. Burnt out, rusted Soviet tanks still served as a monument.
The scenery, alone was worth the trip. They tended to make one wonder how such a beautiful country could have so much war -- until Ernie remembered, one can also ask that about Ireland. The rocky passes were breathtaking, the snow capped mountains were awesome, and the turquoise lakes and emerald green pastures in the areas near the Kabul river begged to be depicted on a postcard. In spots beyond Jalalabad, ancient Buddhist landmarks could be seen across the river.
Then, finally, they came to the flat region around Kabul, and then, into the town itself. By now, it was already getting dark, but they could see even in this light that it was a city still reeling from war.
They rode through the town before they reached the gate of a walled compound. The driver beeped the horn, and someone came out. They spoke in the local language.
'He told them the volunteers are here to meet Hamid,' said Ibrahim.
'Volunteers!' echoed both Ernie and May Lin.
By then, the door was being opened, and they drove in. Inside, it looked like a military complex. Men were either scurrying around with papers and file folders, or standing around in groups toying with their weapons. The only thing lacking were the uniforms.
If there was any doubt as to what they were letting themselves in for, it was now removed.
A bearded man in local garb walked up to them.
'Ah! The volunteers sent by my brother-in-law! Welcome to our centre.'
'And you must be Hamid?' said Ernie.
'Yes, indeed, I'm Hamid. It is with deep pleasure that I welcome the friends of my brother-in-law. Won't you come this way and I will show you to your room.'
They followed him inside, up the stairs and he showed them to a suite of two rooms.
Muhammad will be up later to collect some photos from you and information for your new passports. Then, later, Aziz will brief you on your mission.'
'Mission?' returned Ernie.
'Oh! Just a simple one. You will be carrying a message. But quite an important one, so he'll tell you exactly what you must do. I'll have some food sent up to you shortly. For myself, I'm afraid I must leave on an item of urgent business, but I've seen to it you will be well taken care of.' With that he made a bow and left.
'So, we're volunteers for a mission!' said Ernie.
The rooms were furnished with low tables, sleeping mats with mosquito nets, and an abundance of cushions. Hamid had turned on a ceiling fan for them before he left. There was a private bathroom as well, and a small veranda that overlooked the courtyard.
'Aii yo! What has Uncle Abdul got us into la?' said May Lin, looking down at all the bearded men and their killing machines.
A young man brought a tray of nan and various local dishes, and set it on the low table.
Later in the evening, when the table had been cleared, Muhammad came in and sat on the floor behind the table, took down their information, and collected their photos. He told them they would each receive two passports, one Canadian and the other, South African. They were obtained in such a way that they should have no trouble with on-line checkpoints.
'Normally, these kinds of passports are reserved for personnel on high level missions for the jihad. As you are a trusted friend of Hamid, and obviously experienced in this line of work, we saw fit to make them out for you.'
Later still, Aziz came in, holding a large brown envelope, and a piece of hand luggage.
'I must stress the importance of this not falling into the wrong hands. This carry-on bag will be ideal for carrying it. I give it and the envelope to you now, so you can pack your things in it.'
He opened the bag and showed them the bottom.
'Notice this concealed opening between the layers in the lining at the bottom. I suggest you keep it there and not take it out at all until you are ready to deliver it to the address I will give you.'
At that, he inserted the envelope into the opening. The bottom of the bag was exactly the size of the envelope, so it looked and felt like an empty bag.
'Tomorrow,' Aziz went on, Muhammad will bring you your new passports along with your flight tickets to New York. I will also bring you a list of instructions of where to deliver the envelope, and what to say when you meet the recipient.'
'What day will the flight be?' asked Ernie.
'Tomorrow evening. As long as they don't start shelling the airport again, you will catch an Ariana Afghan Airlines flight from Kabul to Dubai, and from there, a connecting flight to New York. If they shell the Kabul airport, we may have to drive you to Gardez. In the mean time, for two reasons, it is better if you don't set foot outside this compound. The first being security. If you are seen going in and out of here, the C.I.A. and various other agencies will be alerted to the fact you are working for us. The second reason is that the Taliban government has enacted strict laws regarding behaviour and dress. They may overdo it in their zeal, especially their strict interpretations of the Quran in light of their local customs, but their heart is in the right place, and they are solidly behind the world-wide Islamic revolution, so they've been very good hosts. But our men must keep their beards long, and women can't go anywhere unaccompanied, so unless you can grow a long beard overnight, it would be inadvisable to be seen outside. The peace of Allah be on you, and have a good sleep.'
On that note, he left them.
Ernie sighed, and looked at May Lin. She looked back with an expression that said the same as his.
'Hamid must have owed a very big favour to Uncle Abdul for us to be such guests of honour,' said Ernie.
'Don't forget la, we also volunteers.'
'But not just any old volunteer. We're "trusted friends" with special passports usually reserved for high level missions. If that doesn't make us international terrorists, what are we?'
May Lin said, 'How do they get passports numbers to pass the computers and not show up as stolen?'
'I've heard that they advertise a job opening in a big city somewhere attracting the ones who are barely literate and least likely ever to make a trip abroad, and then have him fill out a passport application instead of an employment form. They apply for the passport on their behalf without them knowing it, and then get a professional to modify it.'
Ibrahim was disappointed that they couldn't leave the compound. He had wanted to take Ernie and May Lin to visit his Uncle Anwar. On the other hand, he admitted, his uncle would probably forbid him to go.
* * *
In the late evening they sat on the veranda and looked at the stars. The lights were turned off in the courtyard below, so the stars shone brightly. The sky was also much clearer here than in Islamabad, so the stars could impart that much more of whatever they had to give.
Ernie looked at the crescent moon as it was setting. As usual, it was sad. By now, he realised that it was the light reflected from the sun that carried the sorrow. Just once, he had looked directly at the midday sun for a second, while using the crystal, and it so overwhelmed him that he was distracted from what he was trying to do at the time. Just as the rays of the sun are too much for the naked human eye, so were the strong feelings it emanated, to the Zondon senses. Indirect sunlight didn't have the same effect, because it was diminished
through refraction, and the distribution of sunlight was so uniform in the daytime it was easy to become oblivious to it. Looking at the moon at night, at least Phondesh could analyse it on a tolerable level.
It was as though the whole solar system were groaning for something to be put right. But what?
This was the solar system the Supreme One had set aside for His unique creation. How could it be such a sad place? Whatever it was affected even the subatomic structure, giving atoms within DNA molecules an unusually high probability factor.
Ernie's human mind knew that one of the laws of Quantum Mechanics that had puzzled local physicists was the discovery that you cannot accurately predict the location of an electron at any point in time. Only by using a margin of probability can one establish a working formula. They were baffled by the fact that there was a probability factor to begin with. However, according to his Zondon understanding, the probability factors he had observed in this solar system, were unusually high -- relatively easy to predict.
When the probability factor is high, zoetrons spend more time orbiting the electron in the three dimensions of physical space, traversing into hyperspace only once in six or seven revolutions.
Zoetrons are unique among sub-atomic particles. They only inhabit living DNA. They are, to life, what protons and electrons are to matter, and photons are to light. They are the most basic units of thought.
As exotic matter, they orbit the electrons at super light speed, passing through the nucleus as though it weren't there -- except when the hyperspace hole is open; in which case, it travels into hyperspace, makes an orbit there and back again, completing a figure-eight pattern.
The lower the probability factor is, of course, are less stable the atom would normally be, but this is compensated by the increase in figure-eight paths into the hyperspace dimensions, so that, other factors being equal, a constant state of stability is maintained.
The difference this makes in practical larger-than-quantum scale is that the less the probability factor -- or, the more access to hyperspace by the zoetrons -- the more multi-dimensional the life force becomes, and the less it is confined by the ordinary laws of physics. In animals, it provides instinct of impending danger. In beings with higher intelligence, it can do other things.