you later.”
He put a manila envelope on the coffee table and said, “These are your travel documents, including your airline tickets. Also included is your contact info for when you arrive at Sana’a Airport.” He continued, “The Travel Office did the best they could, but you’ll be arriving in Sana’a at about two-thirty A.M. on Sunday morning. You’ll be met, of course, but in the event you’re not, you have instructions that will tell you what to do.”
I asked, hopefully, “Take the next flight home?”
“No.”
Kate inquired, “Why would we not be met?”
Walsh replied, “Things can go wrong.”
“So,” I inquired, “if four guys in white robes ask us to get into a black van, we should say no?”
“You should definitely say no.” He added encouragingly, “We’ve never lost anyone at the airport.”
I inquired, “Anyone ever delayed at the airport?”
“Now and then.” He reminded us, “But you’re traveling on diplomatic passports, so you’re not required to answer any questions, except for your destination, which is the American Embassy.” He added, “Demand a phone call to the embassy. The night duty officer is alerted to your arrival.”
“If he doesn’t answer, can I call you?”
“No.” Tom continued, “You will be met before you go through passport control. You will not have to go through customs, but if someone demands that you open your bags, then open them. And make sure there is nothing in your luggage that is offensive, compromising, or contraband.”
“Like soap?”
“Like weapons, alcohol, or certain magazines. Or anything made in Israel.”
“So no Uzi submachine guns?”
He informed us, “There’s a list in the envelope.” He continued, “Assuming all goes right at the airport, there will be a three-car convoy to take you to the embassy.”
I asked, “Do our guns travel in the dip pouch?”
“No. You will leave your handguns here. When you get in your vehicle in Sana’a, you’ll be issued handguns which you are authorized to carry at all times.”
Kate asked, “Who’s our contact person at the airport?”
Tom replied, “His name is Paul Brenner. There’s a photo of him in your envelope. I understand he’s former Army CID—Criminal Investigation Division. He’s now working for the Diplomatic Security Service.”
Kate asked, “Does he know why we’re in Yemen?”
“I don’t know.” Tom stood and said, “I want to thank you again for taking on this assignment. And I want to wish you both the best of luck.” He looked at me and said, “I know you have some reservations about this, John, but I also know that you will become more enthused about this assignment when you learn how important it is to the country.”
“I can feel it already, Tom.”
“Good.” He said to Kate, “You’ll have a more difficult time as a woman—and as the member of the team who has to keep John in line.”
They both got a chuckle out of that. Really funny.
Tom and I did a good, firm handshake, and Kate got a hug, which in a Federal building is sexual assault.
We promised to stay in touch by e-mail and send cards on the holidays.
Out in the hallway, Kate said, “I can’t believe we’re getting on a plane tonight to go to Yemen for a year.”
“Did you unplug the toaster?”
“Well… maybe it won’t be a full year.”
“Probably not.”
She asked me, “Are you excited?”
“I keep pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”
She stayed silent as we walked to the elevators, then said to me, “I feel better that we’re together and we can look out for each other.”
“Right.” I remembered an old Arab saying. “When walking through a minefield, make one of your wives walk fifty paces in front of you and your camel.” I didn’t say that, of course. I said, “If I had three more wives, we’d have a whole five-person team looking out for each other.” Actually, I didn’t say that either. I said, “We always look out for each other.”
She kissed me as we waited for the elevator, and we held hands on the way down.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Al Rasul said he wanted to see me before I left, so I went to his desk and he suggested a cup of coffee in the break room.
We sat at a table with our coffees, and I said to Al, “Tom has agreed to send you to Yemen with us.”
He smiled, then said, “You know, I’ve never actually been to a Muslim country.”
“Except Brooklyn.”
He smiled again and said, “I don’t think I’d like it. I know my wife wouldn’t.”
“She Muslim?”
“Yeah. But born here. She sees the new immigrant women with the scarves