play her game as she looked up into Natalie’s eyes.
“Hello,” Natalie said, “You’re pretty.”
No reply.
The little girl flew the plane in once more.
“Your dolly is very pretty. What is her name?”
No answer.
Al Massri turned to look in their direction.
“My name is Natalie,” she pointed at her chest, “Natalie.”
Still nothing from the child.
“She doesn’t speak,” Al Massri volunteered.
“No,” Natalie said, looking from the bearded man to the child.
“No. Her name is Fatima,” he said, “She is….,” he made a swirling motion with his finger to his temple, “She is….I don’t know the English,” he struggled, “She hasn’t spoken since her parents were killed in front of her.”
“Traumatised,” Dennis corrected him.
“Yes. This is it. Trauma….as you said.”
“Traumatised.”
“Her family were killed?” Natalie asked.
“Yes in an air strike on her family’s house. She was pulled from the rubble. She spent two days with her father laying across her. His head was crushed and his brain had come out of his head.”
Natalie brought her hand up to her mouth. Hutchinson was shaking his head. Dennis remained impassive. During his time in the middle east he had seen far worse.
“You poor thing,” Natalie said, taking her hand away again. She turned to Al Massri again.
“Can I give her a gift?”
He waved his hand expansively.
“Yes.”
Natalie reached around behind her neck and undid the small clasp on the heart shaped pendant and gold chain she always wore. She put it around the little girls neck and let the pendant down gently onto the little chest. Fatima dropped her toys and reached up and held the pendant in her fingers, twisting it this way and that.
“There you are. A pretty necklace for a very pretty little girl.”
Suddenly the child dropped the gold heart and she threw herself forward and hugged Natalie tightly. Natalie put her arms around the tiny back and held Fatima equally, her eyes closed. Then the little girl released her grip and smiled at the beautiful woman.
Al Massri watched on.
“There are many thousands of children here in Gaza just like her.”
He nodded at one of his men who moved to the child.
“Come on little one,” he said, “Let’s get you away from the house.”
The child followed him towards where she lived on a small makeshift bed under a large tarpaulin.
“We took her to an orphanage but she came back. She seems to like it here. She can stay, where she will grow up to hate my country’s enemies.”
Natalie rejoined them. Tears were running down her face. Al Massri finished talking to his man then led them on. Hutchinson was still puzzled at something Dennis had said in the house. He caught up to the journalist and grabbed his arm to slow him down. Al Massri, unaware, moved further on ahead flanked by his bodyguards.
“Pete I don’t like this one bit. Are you sure we can trust him.”
“He can be trusted. He would give his life for what he believes in.”
“What didn’t he want us to know when he stopped you from explaining any more about him?”
“His group has used torture on its enemies. Torture and suicide bombings.”
Hutchinson could only imagine the horror.
“I’ll be honest Pete. I’m petrified of him, of the power he holds.”
Hutchinson had watched as Al Massri had walked up the road with his machine gun slung carelessly over his shoulder and people had called out to him.
“What was that about not needing passports. Already taken care of. How are we going to get guns through Israel and into the west bank?”
Dennis knew that the time had come. He reached into his jeans back pocket and pulled out three passports, opened them one at a time and handed one to Hutchinson who looked at the writing on the front.
“These are Australian?”
Dennis nodded and pointed at his girlfriend.
“Meet the new head of the British red cross in Palestine. Miss Natalie Feltham.”
“What?”
“Natalie is travelling under her own name but now she is a top aid worker with the red cross.”
Hutchinson couldn’t believe his ears. He knew he wasn’t going to like the next answer.
“And we are?” he asked looking at his own photograph in his forged passport.
“We are private military contractors or PMC’s as they’re known for short. We are working for an Australian security company called utility resources group. We are based in Dubai. We’re her bodyguards and because I speak Arabic I am also her interpretor.”
Hutchinson was speechless. Dennis knew his plan was brilliant. Finally Hutchinson asked.
“How were you able to arrange this without us getting wind of it?”
Before Dennis was able to answer