Free The Shield of Darius by Allen Kent Page B

floor.  Voila, we drop in a dead heap into the alley.”
    “Minor problem.  One of us could lower the other down using a blanket, pull it back in, replace the panel and make the spare bed.”
    “And the guy on the outside becomes invisible I suppose.”
    Ben slapped the bed in exasperation.  “You’ve got to start thinking positive here Jim.  If we don’t get out, we’re going to rot away in here.”
    The gray bearded truck driver frowned.  “Don’t think I haven’t thought about getting out.  But we’re different types, Ben.  Hell, I’m one of those guys who spent my whole life in the same town, married the girl next door and never went anywhere.  When I drove truck, I stayed at truck stops so I wouldn’t have to deal with other kinds of people.  And I’m meaning American people.  I don’t feel comfortable going downtown in Portland, let alone Beirut or wherever the hell we are.  My wife’s the big social person. She’s involved in everything. Hell, I hated every minute of that trip to Portugal.”
    ”I can do it,” Ben said, hesitating.  “But it’d mean I’d have to go out alone.”
    “You can disappear? You’ve been keeping something from me.”
    “No, seriously.  You’ve been telling me since you first walked me around this room what a little guy I am.  And I’m as dark as most of these people….”
    “Yeah, but you don’t look like them. You’re a damned gypsy.”
    “Just listen for a minute.  If I could get down into the alley I could climb into that compound, take a chador off the line, and wrap it around me like a woman.  People would only be able to see my eyes and couldn’t tell the difference.”  Ben held his hands up to cover his lower face and forehead.  “Could you tell my eyes from one of these people?”
    “Maybe I could from one of these women.  I haven’t seen one of them up close.”
    “They don’t look any different.  Many of them don’t wear makeup.  No plucked eyebrows....”
    Jim raked his beard with long, gnarled fingers. 
    “You know how to wear one of those things?”
    “It’s easy.  All they are is a half circle of cloth.  You put the middle of the straight side down over your forehead, then wrap the rest around you, holding one side up across your nose.  All that shows are your eyes.”
    “But we don’t know where the hell we are.  You’d be out there wandering around as some A-rab woman and wouldn’t have any idea where to go.”
    Ben leaned forward on the bed.  “We’ve pretty well decided we’re probably somewhere in Afghanistan – or maybe Syria. That’s where the hostage problems seem to be right now.  I’m thinking Syria. They’re pretty pissed off with us. I might be able to figure out which when I get into the streets.  Posters, buildings, that sort of thing.  If it’s Afghanistan, some of the writing might be in Farsi. I speak and read some Farsi and it’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
    “I can’t picture all those countries very well. But what if we’re in Syria?  Then what?”
    “That would be perfect. The population’s pretty divided and I should be able to find some friendly people and turn myself over to them.”
    “And if we’re in Iraq? Some village where the Taliban’s still causing trouble somewhere?”
    “Taliban’s Afghanistan,” Ben corrected. “Plus, it sounds too big for a village. And in a city of any size, there will be friendly troops.”
    “Taliban or whatever. Sounds pretty ‘iffy’ to me.”
    Ben rose and paced slowly around the room.  “You’ve been in here a year and a half now and I’ve been here going on a month. And there’s no sign of anything changing.  I’m feeling like Hansel and Gretel.  Like I’m being fattened up to go in the oven.  I don’t plan to be here a year, and I’d like to get you out.  This is our only chance.”
    Jim sat quietly for a moment, looking grimly down at his slippered feet.  “This all sounds pretty well thought