Leonardo said, “It’s not like we’re pushing, but clearly we aren’t wanted here.”
Unlike Beirut, the people here did indeed stare at the two Caucasians drinking tea, wondering why they had arrived. No one said anything, assuming they were in some way connected to Hezbollah, but it made Leonardo nervous all the same.
Tariq said, “Here’s the deal: We’re going to go just north of Mount Hermon, through some of the roughest terrain in Lebanon or Syria. Mount Hermon has the highest United Nations outpost in the world. They call it ‘Hotel Hermon.’ It’s the last checkpoint for the United Nations buffer zone between Syria and Israel along the Golan Heights. Because of it, we can’t just blaze our way through.”
Raph said, “And you’re the smuggler? Why on earth would you choose this route?”
“This is the way to your contacts. If you wanted to go to Damascus, it would have been much easier. You wanted to go to Daraa, which, as you Christians say, is a whole ’nother kettle of fish.”
He assumed a southern United States accent for the last piece, causing Raph to finally smile.
Raph said, “So we’re not going to have any issues with some border patrol from the United Nations?”
Tariq said, “No. Not at all. The road we use is not even a road, and they’ll be to our south, on the tip of the mountain, but very close. I use it specifically because it creates a seam. Nobody in the civil war in Syria wants to cause a problem with the UN mission along the Golan Heights, because it will finally cause someone in this godforsaken world to actually take a stand. It’s a narrow bit of no-man’s-land that I use to get through.”
Raph said, “I’m fine with that. And I’m fine with taking a stand.”
Tariq smiled, looked at his watch, and said, “Then let’s load up. No hoods this time.”
Leonardo moved to enter the vehicle and Raphael said, “Before we go, are you sure you’re getting us to the men we need to meet?”
Tariq said, “Yes. I am Hezbollah as far as you’re concerned. Trust me on this. If you want to talk to the devil, I’m the man who will lead the way.”
Raphael went to the Land Cruiser and said, “Okay, but understand, I’m keeping my pistol out for the rest of the trip.”
They began driving out of the Bekaa Valley, crossing a half hour of flat terrain, and then began climbing the hills, using a dirt road that barely existed. The engine groaned each time the vehicle slammed over a piece of rock, but it kept moving forward. Leonardo looked at Raphael, amazed they were taking such a path.
Raphael caught the glance and, in Croatian, said, “He’s getting us there.”
Leonardo replied, “Right until we fall off a cliff.”
The road wound around the ridges like a snake, a rough trail better suited to mountain goats, climbing ever higher, but the Land Cruiser seemed to eat it up, having no trouble. Eventually, the sun set and they were cloaked in darkness, scaring the hell out of both Raphael and Leonardo.
Looking over a sheer cliff to his left, Raphael said, “We should wait until tomorrow to continue. It’s getting too dark.”
Tariq laughed, pulling out a pair of PVS-5 night vision goggles, something that the United States military hadn’t used since the 1980s. The driver pulled his own out, putting them on. Tariq said, “We do this every day. Trust us.”
The sun dropped behind the mountains, and they began driving in the dark, the only light coming from the dashboard and the feeble glow from the parking lights.
Raphael looked to his left, saw a drop-off of about a hundred meters in the starlight, and said, “You’re not going to try to traverse this range without lights, are you? Those goggles you have weren’t even good when the U.S. went into Grenada.”
Tariq said, “The driver knows this terrain, just as a horse does. He could do it without these shitty goggles.”
They kept climbing higher and higher, winding around one switchback after another, the road growing more and more rough until it became impossible to see it against the mountain itself, becoming something only animals would use. Looking at the cliff to his left in the dim moonlight, Raphael finally said he’d had enough.
He said, “Stop. Stop right now. This is insane. This isn’t even a road.”
The driver stopped and Tariq said, “The top is about a hundred meters ahead. From there, it’s all downhill, but just as dangerous. You want to quit now?”
Raphael considered for a moment, then said, “A hundred meters ahead?”
“Yes. You paid me for a reason. I’ll get you to Syria without anyone knowing you arrived, but I told you it wouldn’t be easy.”
Raphael looked at Leonardo, who nodded. He said, “Okay, let’s go.”
They reached the top of the mountain pass, Mount Hermon rising to the right of them, and the driver stopped. Raphael said, “What’s happening?”
“There is a checkpoint ahead.”
“A checkpoint here? On top of the ridge?”
“Yes. It’s never happened before.”
“They’ve seen us?”
“I don’t know if they’ve seen us, but they’ve heard us coming for thirty minutes. What do you want to do?”
Raphael considered, then said, “Keep going. Put the lights on. Let’s see if we can get past them.”
The driver did so, illuminating the small goat track and amazing Raphael that anyone would actually dare to drive on it. They went forward, the lights illuminating a checkpoint with a small pickup truck blocking the road, the truck itself painted in United Nations colors.
Two men appeared out of the darkness, and both were wearing United Nations uniforms. Raphael said, “What the hell is this? I thought you said they were to the south?”
Tariq pulled out his pistol and said, “They are. These are not United Nations.”
The driver pulled up next to them and Raphael saw both men were armed with AK-47s and both were wearing the blue beret of the United Nations. The driver talked to them in Arabic, the conversation going back and forth. Eventually, he rolled up the window and conducted a three-point turn, then headed back the way they’d come.
Raphael said, “What are we doing?”
Tariq said, “Going back to the valley. We can’t continue here. Our path is blocked.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your mission is done. We can’t continue on. I’m sorry, but those men are not with me. I can’t pay them off, and I can’t call someone to let us through.”
Raphael said, “Stop the car.”
“What?”
“Stop the car. Now. We’re out of view of the checkpoint.”
The driver did, and Raphael said, “We need to be in Syria tomorrow. Can you do that now, from a different crossing?”
“Tomorrow? No way.”
Raphael said, “Then we go tonight.”
“How do you propose we do that?”
He reached for his backpack, pulling it forward, saying, “Are you sure those guys aren’t United Nations personnel?”
“Yes. This location is run by the battalion from Nepal. They even make a joke about being the ones that have to work here because they’re from the land of Everest. The people we talked to at that checkpoint spoke Arabic. Nobody in Nepal speaks Arabic. They’re fake, and I don’t know who they are, but I’m not going to cross them until I talk to my bosses.”