You Die For Me

Preface

Endless miles of sand dunes and scorching heat. The Sahara Desert is both beautiful and brutal. Stretching in a shifting horizon of sand, beginning 200 miles north of Timbuktu Mali to Algeria on the Mediterranean Sea. Salt traders travel 1,500 miles by night on thousand camel caravans to sell their salt in the north.

The desert is my cradle, I was born here

The desert is my road, I travel here

The desert is my grave, I will die here.

A Tuareg tribesman crossing the Sahara to trade salt for gold wrote this poem. Camels, referred to as "ships of the desert" are able to go without food or water for weeks. Sheep and goats are also resilient animals in this harsh environment. Traveling from oasis to oasis is wiser than from well to well. Wells in the desert are owned and managed by different tribes and permission is required before use. Otherwise you will be shot. This is the law of desert.

The Niger River Valley is equally brutal due to its aggressive giant crocodiles. They are capable of taking almost any animal within its range - including a large elephant's trunk. The Pinnasse, a river boat used to navigate the Niger River, is no match to the speed boat of the River Pirates. These armed insurgents, are either black Africans or Arabs, abduct westerners at gun-point and later demand ransom. Neither are friendly folks.

Ise Heijiro Marrakech, Morocco April 2, 2013

CONTENTS

１Tango

２Law Firm

３ Kalamazoo, Michigan

4 Casablanca

５ Timbuktu

６Niger River

7 Gao

8 Desert

9 Oasis

10 Night in the Sahara

11 Kidal

12 A man falls from the sky

13 Hoggar Mountains

14 Bailey bitten by snake

15 Cave Compound

16 Fighters Return

17 Mohammed

18 Banquet

19 Released

20 Oscar talks about his brother

21 Bones in the Sand

22 Tuareg

23 Zabari

24 Talk

25 Niger River War - 1st day

26 Monday Morning

27 Mona’s story

28 Chicago –surprise

29 Capitol Hill — Washington DC

30 Casablanca International Airport

1 Tango

Lolo Bongo, a big African black, drives a yellow cab on weekends and lives in downtown Chicago. Lolo goes to vocational school weekdays. He wants to be an eighteen wheeler truck mechanic for better income and benefits. One Saturday at midnight, he drove to his apartment in his cab after his shift to sleep until morning. He walked by Marie’s apartment, heard music seeping through under the door. He stopped and listened, it was La Cumpalsita an Argentinian tango. He had heard the tango before in her apartment. Lolo thought, "Marie is working late."

Around eight o’clock the next morning, Lolo opened his door to go throw the trash. He heard the same rhythm and melody that was La Cumpalsita. He knocked on Marie’s door there was no answer. He knocked louder, still no answer. He began to worry that something was very wrong. He went back to his apartment and called the landlady. Twenty minutes later the old landlady came with two policemen. One of the police knocked on the door — no answer. He told the landlady to open the door. The policeman entered the room then said, Don’t come in here! The landlady and Lolo were shocked as they could see through the open door that Marie was hanging from a rope tied to the lighting fixture on the ceiling. The landlady covered her mouth with her hands, Oh My God. The tango beat its pulse from her smart phone. The policeman looked up at her, thought for a second, and then radioed in for assistance.

Algeria Hostage Crisis

One Sunday morning in late April, Detective Frank Melanzano opened his bedroom window facing Lake Michigan, four miles to the east. The cool, soft breeze from the lake brushed his face. One more year and Melanzano would retire. His wife, Florence, was happy about his retirement even though it would be a few years earlier than the average Chicago policemen.Frank went downstairs to the kitchen, hit the switch on Mr. Coffee and opened the door to let Buster, the family dog out. With a fresh cup of coffee in hand, he entered the living room, sat on the couch and reached for the remote control to tune into the morning news.

He liked to watch Chicago’s WGN-TV "Your very own source for breaking news at seven o’clock. The weatherman reported a typical April day, which means unpredictable. The wind, rain and snow coming from Canada across lake Michigan keeps the State of Illinois and neighboring Midwestern states cool and their soil fertile. This year the Great Lake region will have a good harvest of corn, wheat, and soy beans barring any drought conditions like we experienced last year, a female spokesperson from the U.S. Agricultural Department explained. Market Watch was next with a fund manager from an investment firm selling his prediction on commodities. Suddenly the screen blinked Breaking News" and a Washington news correspondent announced that the Al Qaeda Islamist network operating in the Maghreb, who called themselves AQIM, had attacked a gas plant in Algeria two hours ago. BBC’s video report followed.

The video showed images of the gas plant near the Libyan border, This is our initial report. We are still waiting to confirm the details, the reporter from Libya announced. "What BBC can confirm are reports from a French nurse who escaped the compound. The nurse told us that when security sounded the siren, multiple gunshots — a dozen or so — were heard near the

entrance of the plant."

Good morning Frank, I heard gunshots and a siren. What’s happening on the news? Florence joined Frank on the couch. Muslim terrorists attacked a gas plant in Algeria. This terrorist activity is way beyond my scope of work, Frank remarked.

Where is Algeria anyway? I’m thankful that we live in America, Florence said and rubbed her husband’s grey hair with affection. Frank, we’ll go to the ten o’clock service then have brunch at Alice’s restaurant with Charlotte and Bill afterward, OK? Florence announced as Frank’s smart phone vibrated.

"It’s Ronnie Bowman, honey, I have to answer

it."

Good morning boss what’s up? Frank said, answering the call.

Frank, this is not a good morning for us. Homicide called. We have orders to go to an apartment complex in downtown Chicago. I’ll pick you up. It’s on my way and we’ll go directly to the site. It appears a young woman was hanged early this morning, Bowman said.

Detective Frank Melanzano, Homicide Division,

Chicago Police Department looked at his wife and said, "I’ve been called for a case. This is why I want to retire.

The whole country is celebrating the Easter Holiday and I can’t even go to church on Sunday with my wife and friends. Instead, I have to go check out a dead body."

The detective pulled out his old raincoat from the closet, and said It looks like rain in the city.

Mysterious Lizard

Boss, I should find the origin of these strange lizards. I wonder why she kept such dangerous pets in a city apartment.

There were two large brown lizards in a box by the window. One being larger than the other. The detectives were combing the apartment for clues to Marie’s death. Frank was looking down at the lizards in the box as he was talking to Bowman.

Oh, you’re talking about Gary, a college student answered when Detective Frank asked the tenants living across the hall about the lizards. Gary belongs to Lolo. He lives in the apartment next door.

So, Gary is not Miss Marie’s pet? Who is Lolo? Frank asked.

"Lolo Bongo is a vocational school student from Mali, a western African country. He drives a taxi.

Lolo called the landlord when Marie didn’t answer her door when he knocked," the neighbor added.

Call Lolo Bongo here, Bowman requested.

"Yes… That’s my Gary, the other one is

Marie’s." Lolo pointed to the big one. They are Spiny-tailed lizards from the Sahara desert, he informed Frank.

According to Lolo, Marie wanted his Gary to mate with her female lizard.

Did they mate? Frank seemed to get a little side-tracked by these interesting creatures.

I don’t know. They are so quiet, Lolo answered.

While Frank was talking with Lolo, Bowman was questioning another tenant in the building who told him that Marie worked at the Iroquois Bank in the loop.

Frank Melanzano took the yellow police tape out of his briefcase and sealed the door. Bowman told the landlord that the detectives and criminalists would come Monday morning.

Monday Morning

Bowman called the bank located on Clark Street downtown and asked to speak with the manager. The female manager told Bowman that the young trainee, Marie Oldford, worked in the section that monitors the records of funds wired from foreign banks.

Was she good at her job? Good with computers? Bowman asked.

Absolutely the best, she replied.

I need to see the account she was working on last Friday.

The account was closed on Friday.

Who closed it?

The law firm closed the account, she answered with certainty.

We need you to come downtown for further questioning about Miss Marie’s case, Bowman said.

Of course, Detective, give me a minute to close my office, the young manager responded as she took some keys from her desk.

Back to Marie’s apartment...

Frank and Bowman went back to Marie’s apartment Monday afternoon. It was raining. The morning fog still hovered over the city.

A group of criminalists was busy taking fingerprints, pictures, and collecting evidence related to Marie’s death. Frank seemed puzzled. I have investigated many female suicides and this does not look like a suicide. What kind of person would hang a young lady? Why? Marie Oldford was the typical, all American, blond, milk-fed girl from Des Moines, Iowa, who happened to work at a bank.

Frank was convinced the only reason she was killed was that she knew too much. Her curiosity more than her job had sparked an interest in a series of international money transfers from accounts in America to Europe to Africa back to Europe and it continued for months. Someone has been zipping money around the world. She sensed that this was not the typical Chicago Mafia money laundering operation. It was much larger, coming from higher places. She was convinced of this when one day a deposit came from Washington DC. A very powerful organization is at the center of it all, she wrote in the diary Frank found under a table next to her bed.

Yea? She knew too much? Bowman questioned.

A powerful organization, Frank muttered.

Such as?

Such as . . . the US government? Frank responded.

Bowman put his hand in the pocket of his raincoat, took out his smartphone to call the Feds, and pointed to the open door of Marie’s apartment as he turned on the recorder. Frank closed the door. The FBI switchboard at Washington DC headquarters connected Bowman’s call to the National Security Office. Director, John Smith, answered the call.

Detective Bowman, if this homicide is in any way linked to the international bank transfers this young lady was working on, the case is under our jurisdiction and you will have to take your hands off the case until our investigation is complete.

Bowman hated the Fed’s ability to take a homicide committed in Chicago, his city, away from the local police. Bowman, get off the case, Smith snapped in anger.

Bowman cut the call, went out the door and waved his hand to his partner. Hey, what did you find out about that lizard thing?

Yep, very interesting, Frank was pointing to Marie’s lizard scratching in the box.

It’s a Spiny-tailed lizard from the Sahara desert.

2 Law Firm...

Let’s go to the law firm, Bowman said to Frank.

Boss, aren’t we supposed to take our hands off the case?

Frank, this is a murder case. A murder committed in Chicago. Our duty is to protect the citizens of our city from a killer out there somewhere on the loose. Don’t worry about the Feds. We’ll be closing this case before they find the creepy lizard. Bowman never liked sharing anything with the Feds.

The Malfowitz & Butcher Law firm had its main office in the Chicago Loop on Clark Avenue, only a block from the Iroquois Bank. Detectives Frank and Bowman inquired at the front desk for the office of Attorney Malfowitz.

The receptionist, wearing 50’s red cat-eye glasses asked, Do you have an appointment, Sir? No, we need to see Mr. Malfowitz . . . now! Bowman responded in a commanding voice.

She picked up the phone and spoke softly to

someone