also DSS, and they were eyeing everything around—especially the six Yemeni soldiers with AK-47s. How come everyone else gets a gun?
Brenner said, “We’re in the middle.”
As Kate and I moved to the middle vehicle, two DSS guys opened the rear doors and we slid in. Brenner got in the passenger seat, and the other DSS guys grabbed our luggage and jumped in the front and rear vehicles. Brenner said to the driver, who was Yemeni, “Yalla nimshee,” which I remembered means, “Let’s go,” and off we went.
Brenner informed us, “These are FAVs—fully armored vehicles—and the glass is bullet-resistant.” He added, “Resistant as in duck. There are two flak jackets in the rear. I suggest you put them on.”
I turned and retrieved the two heavy military-issue flak jackets, which could stop anything from a bullet to antiaircraft fire. I helped Kate into one and put on the other.
This all seemed a little like overkill, but I recalled being met this way the last time, and it was considered standard operating procedure; also known as the embassy covering its ass if something went wrong.
We cleared Sana’a International Airport in less time than it takes to say “Sana’a International Airport,” and we were on the surprisingly decent four-lane road toward Sana’a. This was the way I’d come to Yemen last time, and it was a bit of déjà vu—except for being met by Colonel Hakim. More to the point, this was a good introduction to Yemen for Kate, who by now must be thinking, “I should listen to my husband.”
Brenner broke into my thoughts and said, “Half the fun is getting there.”
No, half the fun is me making wisecracks—not you.
Anyway, a rival wiseass was the least of my problems. I asked Brenner, “How long you got left here?”
He replied, “As long as you’ve got left. We’re all leaving together.”
Well, maybe that answered part of the question of who else was on the Panther team.
I suggested, “Let’s wrap it up in thirty days.”
He replied, “Now that you’re both here, that’s very possible.”
I hadn’t yet given Kate the good news that we were here to be Panther bait, and she was missing some of the nuances, so she said, “That’s very flattering, Mr. Brenner.”
He said, “Please call me Paul.”
And call me red meat.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
There wasn’t much traffic at this hour—it was now 3:55 A.M.—and we clipped along at 120 KPH. The Yemeni driver yawned loudly. The khat must have worn off.
Brenner said to Kate and me, “This is Mohammed. We pay him a dollar an hour to drive for us. Two dollars to stay awake.”
Mohammed laughed, so he understood English, or he’d heard the joke so many times he knew he was supposed to laugh.
I asked, “Why the Yemeni driver?”
Brenner explained, “The Yemeni government now insists that we have at least one Yemeni driver in a convoy at night for our enhanced security.” He further explained, “Partly it’s so we have an Arabic speaker who can talk to the idiots at the checkpoints, or call for police or army backup if we get into a situation.”
I said, “That sounds almost plausible.”
“Right. But it’s bull.” Brenner let us know, “We actually don’t know who Mohammed works for, do we, Mohammed?”
He replied, “I am just a simple driver, sir.”
“Right. And I’m the cultural affairs attaché.”
“You are, sir.”
That out of the way, Brenner turned and said to us, “The only incident we’ve ever had happened at this hour.”
Kate said, “Thanks for sharing.”
I asked, “Guns?”
“Oh, right. You want guns.” He passed us a black canvas bag and said, “You’ll carry the M1911 Colt .45 automatic, A1 model.”
I opened the bag and saw the two military-issue automatics, a dozen magazines, two boxes of ammo, two hip holsters, and a cleaning kit.
Brenner asked, “You familiar with these?”
Kate replied, “I’m qualified on this.”
Right. Very qualified. In fact, she killed someone once with a Colt .45 automatic. I assured Mr. Brenner, “I’ve been shot at with this gun.”
“Good. Kate can give you a quick lesson on how to shoot back.”
Wise guy.
I made sure both guns had a loaded magazine in place, and checked that there was a round in each chamber and the safety was on. I left the guns in the bag, but kept it open between us.
I asked Brenner, “Do we get automatic rifles?”
“If you should need to leave Sana’a or Aden.”
“Right.” I asked, “How’s the civil war going here?”
“I don’t know.” He asked Mohammed, “How’s the civil war going?”
“Oh, I do not know, sir. I only know what I read