Ellie gave the soldier a pile of passports and papers. He slung his assault rifle over his shoulder and opened the first passport. The gun slipped forward and hit the WHO emblem on the door of her jeep.
Her papers showed that she was setting up mobile clinics in the region. WHO’s work gave her a legitimate opportunity to enter the militarised zone, track Gajan and use the clinics to move around while staying close to him. It was safer and more effective than her usual USAID cover.
‘Out,’ the soldier motioned to her and the others.
‘It’s all there,’ she smiled and pointed to the papers. She had the right documents for Arjuna, her translator, and the WHO employees, Barry Sharkey and Shane Bradfield. They were the last vehicle in the four-car convoy that was headed for Mankulam, eighty-seven miles from the location of the Tiger training camp.
‘Out,’ the soldier repeated, pulling the handle on Sharkey’s side. Two more soldiers stepped forward and started a cursory search of the vehicle. She wasn’t worried. Bradfield had hidden four 9-mm and sixteen rounds of ammunition deep in the chassis of their jeep, as well as three light vests. He knew exactly where to put it, but that was all he could fit. They couldn’t risk more.
‘Sure,’ Sharkey replied. ‘No problem, chief.’ He got out of the jeep, unfolding his six foot five frame very slowly. The early morning sunlight picked up the red flecks in his curly brown hair and beard.
The soldier stepped back, dropped the papers and fumbled with his weapon, hauling it back into place.
Arjuna emerged from the driver’s side, arms raised, and spoke rapidly in Sinhalese, explaining that Sharkey and Bradfield were there as sprayers with the dengue fever eradication program.
The soldier shouted at them again, moved his hand in a circular motion and then returned it to his weapon, steadying the gun in his hands and lifting it so it was angled up towards Sharkey’s chest.
‘No problem, chief,’ Sharkey repeated. He turned around slowly, hands in the air. Tucked into the back of his pants was an Empire film magazine from a few months ago. The soldier pulled it out. ‘You can take that, I’ve finished with it. Although, may I?’ Sharkey tentatively reached for the magazine and flicked through its pages. He stopped at a picture of Aishwarya Rai, Bollywood goddess and star of the recent Bride and Prejudice. He kissed the picture and gave the magazine back to the soldier, who laughed.
‘Papers.’ The soldier kicked at the papers on the ground. ‘You go.’ He gave the magazine to another soldier.
Sharkey picked up the papers and passed them through the window to Ellie. He got back in the car and said, ‘Take good care of Aishwarya.’
The soldiers saluted him with the magazine and let them through.
‘I can’t believe you gave them Aishwarya.’ Bradfield shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t give her up for anyone.’
‘No choice, mate,’ Sharkey shrugged. ‘Plus, I have more in my kit. Vanity Fair did a nice spread after the Oscars. I’d like to see what choices Hilary makes after Million Dollar Baby.’
‘Agreed. That was a helluva performance,’ Bradfield replied.
‘Okay enough BS, thank you. Sharkey, nice work with the magazine,’ Ellie interrupted. ‘We’ve got an hour’s drive to the WHO clinic. The medics will rotate. Four teams in, three teams out. Arjuna and I will do basic field patch-ups and vaccinations. Any serious medical issues will have to be seen by the real medics. Arjuna will handle the triage and send critical patients to the other teams. I’ll identify the asset.’
‘You better get that triage right, Arjuna,’ Bradfield teased. ‘Don’t want sir here to have to do surgery.’
‘My surgical skills are better than yours,’ Ellie retorted.
‘Post-mortems don’t count. My field surgery is excellent, never lost a soldier or a limb.’
‘It’s true. He’s pretty good with a medi-kit,’ Sharkey confirmed. ‘And he’s actually been, you know, in the field.’
‘I’ve been in the field,’ she said.
‘You’ve been near the field,’ Arjuna corrected. ‘Or you go into the field after we’ve cleared it for you. You and the other report-writers.’
‘Not to disrespect you, sir,’ Bradfield soothed her. ‘Your intel is always the best and I trust the plays you call. There’s no one I’d rather have in my earpiece than you.’
‘Me too,’ Sharkey echoed. ‘You’ve got a great brain, sir. And a uterus of steel, if you don’t mind me saying. You ask for the jobs other agents wouldn’t dare.’
‘Thank you, Sharkey,’ she said, looking out the window.
They were right. Ellie was trained for the field as all agents at her level needed to be. She could defend herself, but she wouldn’t kill unless she had to. Sharkey and Bradfield killed first and read movie magazines to avoid thinking about it later.
They were a good team. She could go into the field, interview survivors and piece together what had happened. She could evaluate which broken bodies meant broken laws, and which laws were worth defending. But she needed these guys to go in first. On this mission, Sharkey, Bradfield and Arjuna were there as her protection detail and the extraction team if necessary. She didn’t have the authorisation to exfiltrate Gajan, but—as BS always said—she needed options.
The key to staying alive in the field was having options.
•
The local Tiger leadership had agreed to allow their cadres to come to the clinic for tetanus boosters. Arjuna was in the tent at the other end of the clinic, giving a group a public health session on dengue prevention and management in Tamil. Ellie had a small window of opportunity, and she had to make it count.
Ellie wrapped the used sterile kit in its packaging and threw it in the bin like a basketball.
‘Good shot,’ the boy said in English, almost smiling.
‘Thank you. I have three younger brothers who think they coach me,’ she replied, re-gloving her hands and then opening another sterile kit. She unfurled it on the table beside her. ‘Take off your shirt please, I want to listen to your chest. Let’s see how your lungs are doing.’ She pulled the stethoscope out of her pocket and placed it around her neck as the boy moved to comply. ‘Gajan,’ she began quietly.
The boy jumped, startled. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘I know your brother, Sathyan. We’re good friends. We work together.’
‘Is he okay? Is my mother okay?’ he asked.
‘They are absolutely fine. They miss you and they’re really worried about you.’
‘Are you the lady that’s going to get me out?’
‘I am. But not yet. This isn’t the right time. How are you?’
‘How am I?’
‘Yes, how are you?’ she repeated.
Gajan finished removing his shirt in answer. The skin on his stomach had been stripped off in patches, as though rubbed with steel wool. He lifted his elbows. The skin around them and on the underside of his forearms was raw.
‘What were you doing?’ she whispered, lifting his arms gently. She didn’t know which ointment would soothe this.
‘Training. Getting ready to fight when the war starts again.’ He pulled his elbow away and clasped his hands in his lap. He looked so young. He was so young.
‘Are you allowed to keep things, Gajan? Like personal items?’ she asked.
‘A few, not a lot.’
‘Okay. This is your asthma inhaler, a new one, but not a real one. If you turn the internal canister like this, it turns it on. And then, if you want to meet, you press it three times. It emits a signal on a frequency I’ll be monitoring.’
‘Are you a spy? That looks like James Bond,’ he said.
‘It’s better than James Bond, actually. If there’s something you need to tell me, you can effectively call me. I can meet you at the clinic. Tell them you’re having trouble with your asthma.’
Gajan stared at his hands. She tried to reach out to him again. ‘Sathyan said you like electronics, that you’re good with your hands. You like making fish traps and Lego robots?’
‘Yes. Now I make bombs.’
‘Hang in there, Gajan. I want to get you out. I’m trying. But until I can do that, while you’re still at the camp, I’d like you to help me.’
‘Are you an American spy?’ he asked again. ‘Sathyan said you help refugees. But you sound like a spy.’
‘No, I’m not a spy. I’m trying to help you. But I need you to help me first.’
‘You want me to spy on my friends for you?’ he asked.
‘No. I don’t want you to do that. I just want you to keep watching and thinking about what you’re seeing. Pay attention without looking like you’re paying attention. Can you do that?’
‘You mean spying.’
‘I mean paying attention to the details. Like who’s in charge, who’s bringing your weapons. Who’s bringing your bomb parts. Listen out for words like Semtex.’
When he didn’t say anything, she touched him on the arm and he recoiled from her. His scrawny arms were covered in bruises. His eyes were filled with fear.
•
Arjuna shut the door behind him. ‘How many did you see today?’
‘Forty-three. Some with fever but not as widespread as I expected. A lot of tetanus shots, and I’m almost out of antibiotics.’
‘We’re lucky we were allowed to keep any at all,’ he noted.
She had worked with Arjuna and BS on two tours in Pakistan over the past eighteen months. They had been embedded with health units in other countries before and understood the currency of medication. On previous missions, their meds had been confiscated by the Army or the militia, depending on which region they were in. She had handed out vitamins and interviewed civilians; Arjuna and BS scoped the cities and countryside for terrorists.
‘Good to know the WHO still have some clout. They’ll clear out when the fighting starts up again. Properly,’ Arjuna qualified, when Ellie raised her eyebrows. ‘In-fighting between Tiger factions doesn’t count. I mean when everything goes to complete shit again.’
‘Won’t be long now,’ she predicted. ‘Both sides have rested well during the ceasefire. They’ve re-armed, replenished their human cannon fodder, that kind of thing. They’ve had some time to plan a genocide or a futile secessionist movement.’
‘It’s not futile, Ellie. The Tigers control one-fifth of the island. They are a state in all but international recognition.’
‘Yes, and international acceptance of their methods has changed. 9/11 took care of that. The question is, which superpower will fill the Sri Lankan government’s begging bowl with the arms they need to finish this?’ She suddenly felt exhausted. How many of the people she had seen today would survive the next conflict?
‘Your intel is telling you another big offensive is coming?’ he asked.
‘Don’t need any intel or a crystal ball. Just a history book. The two-state solution won’t work in Israel and it won’t work here for much the same reason.’ She sprayed down the table and wiped it clean. The astringent smell of disinfectant filled her nostrils. ‘It’s inevitable. They’ll fight to the death.’