Death Brew

Chapter 1

Upright, strapped in, exhausted. They gave us double-ear protection against the deafening roar. At 30,000 feet we were safe. After what we had been through in the past five days, the gigantic, freezing fuselage was all the protection we needed. The ride wasn’t smooth but there was nothing to fear. I tried to sleep. When I looked over at Phoebe, she was out, head kinked to one side in one of the web backed seats. We were shoulder-to-shoulder, backs against the side of the plane, no reclining, and no tray tables. She looked unnatural, struggling, like a frozen pretzel. There were no flight attendants, no inflight meals, only the box lunch they gave us before takeoff. We were covered in heavy wool blankets, but flying in a C-130 Hercules was like flying in a city-sized air conditioning unit. Thank goodness Frankfurt was only a five-hour flight.

The surface of the floor was covered with metal rollers, probably to make the palletized cargo in front of us easier to load. I wondered if any of our belongings were here or if they’d be shipped later. Most of the pallets were heavily shrink-wrapped. No way to tell if our stuff was onboard. It didn’t matter. I didn’t care.

To be the only passengers in the belly of this huge plane might be strange, but not much stranger than the lives we had lead in the desert. For months we struggled with the idea of moving to Saudi Arabia. We made it our life’s mission to convince our parents to abort the move. They wouldn’t listen.

Before we knew it, we were there, overwhelmed by the heat, sand, and a life impossible to imagine. Most days were a struggle, as expected, but not all. Only in the last five days—each one more terrifying than the next—had our lives drastically intensified, pushing our survival skills to the limit. When we were told that our parents had been kidnapped, that was it, our patience and strength had almost run out. Almost. A few days later, they were found, alive and well and waiting for us in Frankfurt, Germany.

Phoebe Walker could sleep almost anywhere, through anything. With the promise of Mom and Dad waiting in Germany, ready to reboot our lives, she could easily erase the dark memories of our recent past, while letting the rocking motion of the plane take her to dreamland.

What had happened was on me, my fault, but with plenty of blame to spread around. The firestorm I set in motion concerned a project I had created for a media studies class. It wasn’t just a normal high school project. I had created a different me, an alter ego, a religious persona I called the Grand Mufti Achmed Ali. I had created a person of great importance, daring to cast religious edicts, to help improve certain aspects of one of the oldest religions in the world. Unfortunately, a well-known terrorist group twisted the assignment into a propaganda tool. The content—a series of what turned out to be highly controversial videos—wasn’t to be broadcast on the Internet. Somehow, this group gained access to the Grand Mufti’s work, then positioned the videos in a way to guarantee worldwide attention, and condemnation. I thought I was making a positive contribution, but when it comes to someone else’s religion, I was too young and too naïve to understand how I was being used to help create this firestorm.

When it was proven that release of the videos was not my fault, the denunciations died down, but not enough to assure a welcome mat for my family and me back in the US. That’s why the United States government was flying Phoebe and I to a rendezvous with our parents in the heart of Europe.

My perception of Germany was that of a safe country, in the modern world—as opposed to a dangerous, third world country, where social customs and rules of law were totally foreign to us. I was beginning to feel better, but I wish someone had given us more information about our meeting place. Would it be at the airport in Frankfurt or at a nearby military base? Would we be taken to a hotel or the American Embassy? I hoped the answer was with the man loping down the aisle, the pilot who had welcomed us aboard.

How you two doin’? he said, trying to be heard above the engine noise while not waking Phoebe. Name’s Captain Felznick. But you can call me Joe. It was too late to worry about waking her up now. Phoebe slipped one eye open.

Are we there? she mumbled, just loud enough to be heard, moving her head from side to side, trying to work the stiffness out of her neck.

Not quite, young lady. Soon. Can I get you some more blankets? Two thumbs went up.

And please turn up the heat. I said.

Sorry, wish I could. Have they told you where you’re going to live?

Not yet. We were told we’d be discussing that with our mom and dad. No witness protection program as long as we keep a low profile.

Which means not going home for a while, Phoebe said.

"I don’t think you’ll have any problem finding a comfortable place to live in Germany.

There are lots of schools sponsored by the United States government in Europe. My kid went to one. Loved it. Good school, wonderful city. You won’t have any trouble."

The pilot left for a minute, then returned with the blankets, a couple more sandwiches and two bottles of water. I have to go fly a plane, but if you’d like to take a look, come on up, he yelled back. Quite a place we have up there. We both answered with two more thumbs up.

What do you think about living in Germany, Zane?

We haven’t had time to do any research but I’m sure we will. From what I know, and read in magazines and newspapers, it sounds good. BMW, Mercedes, Audi, Volkswagen, World Cup Champions four times, and wiener schnitzel.

And don’t forget the pork, big brother. We’ve been porkless for months.

And alcohol, I said.

Like that’s a big deal for us?

For Mom and Dad it is, I said. They’ll be more than ready for a toast.

I’m betting our sponsors will give us a chance to check the schools out. Mom and Dad want to make sure we’re happy this time so they’re giving us a greater voice in making the decision. Should be a lot easier to live in a country that’s a little less foreign.

I was ready to start investigating so I opened a couple of the brochures we’d been given at the air base in Riyadh.

Phoebe grabbed a couple of them. They all look good, Zane.

Come on Phebes, you know how a well-designed brochure can make any place look appealing. Remember the Saudi brochures we looked at after we left the States?

Yeah, but remember, we never gave that place a chance. We made up our minds to hate it from the start. Let’s have a look. After a few minutes of scanning the colorful pictures of the schools and cities, we relaxed. There didn’t seem to be any bad options. Germany looked like a great place to live. We’d be safe and free and ready to put the past year and a half behind us. In time, we’d be ready to return to our home in the US. It didn’t take a minute more, lost in the steady roar of the engines, for Phoebe to go back to slumber land with me by her side.

Chapter 2

We hadn’t been asleep long when the captain returned to tell us we were only thirty minutes out.

Last chance to take a look at one of the most amazing cockpits of any plane ever built. You and your sister up for it? We unbuckled and were two steps behind the pilot in seconds. When a curtain opened to the cockpit we stood there breathless, gawking, like a couple of tourists.

Unbelievable, said Phoebe.

Wow, was all I could say. The pilot returned to his seat then introduced his copilot.

Please to meet you, Walkers, name’s Gary. We’ve heard some pretty strange stories about you two. Said you pulled off some kind of mind-bending escape. You think that’s true, Joe? As if on cue, they both unstrapped their seatbelts and walked back to where we were standing. Phoebe and I looked at them, bug eyed.

Doesn’t someone need to fly the plane? Phoebe said.

Naw, pretty much flies itself. But if you feel unsafe, you’re welcome to take over.

Auto pilot, right? I said, not quite sure.

This is a smart guy, Joe.

But is he or his sister brave enough to give it a go?

I’ll bet they’re chicken. Without hesitation we took the seats of the pilot and copilot.

This is really different than a commercial plane, isn’t it? I said. With these giant windows you can see everything, unlike the little windows in commercial planes. Right?

Right you are son. Not to mention all these extra little switches and do dahs. This is one big mamma jamma. We need the visibility. Captain Felznick obviously had years of experience. This was his plane, his big baby. For a few minutes, we let our fingers run over the controls, waiting for the pilots to stop us. Curiosity kicked in at warp speed and the questions started to flow.

All this, just for us? said Phoebe.

Not exactly young lady, said Gary. We fly this way often, but your timing was right on. Otherwise, I guess they would have put you in a crop duster.

Yeah, right, I said. Seriously, if we were to list the coolest things that have happened to us in the past year, flying this thing would top the list. Right Phebes?

There was that banana cream pie at Fuddruckers.

Girl’s got a sense of humor, Joe. How about letting them parachute down once we get there? That would be a heck of an entrance.

No thanks, maybe next trip, Phoebe said. This is cool enough. But thanks.

Don’t thank us yet, Phoebe, we’re not quite there. This is Gary’s first time flying this thing.

Do all you guys in the service crack so many jokes? After a big friendly nod, we were sent back to our seats. Ten minutes until landing. Ten minutes until we’d be reunited with our parents. Ten minutes more.

Chapter 3

Unable to wait for the plane to come to a complete stop, we were up and ready to charge the door as soon as the plane started to taxi. There was no one to tell us to ‘please stay seated.’ When we finally jerked to a stop, our knees buckled slightly. Nothing else happened. I rolled back the curtain to the cockpit in time to see the pilots flipping switches and talking to someone on the ground. They were preparing to put the big plane to bed. When the pilots saw us standing behind them, they weren’t surprised.

You two must be in a hurry. They both laughed. We didn’t think they were funny.

Come on in, we’re going to be here for a few minutes until they send a car.

Are we in Frankfurt?

Nope. We were headed there but redirected to Rammstein, an Air Force base not too far from Frankfurt. Out here, we’re away from the general population—just a precaution.

Will our mom and dad be in the car?

Not sure. They said a car was being sent and would be rolling up any minute. Want to take a look at Germany? We bent down, looking over their shoulders and out the cockpit windows. At least we were in the best position to see when the car arrived. Our first glimpse of Germany was somewhat disappointing—gunmetal gray skies, driving rain, exploding puddles on an empty, slickened runway. It was the exact opposite of Saudi—the weather, not our mood. This was the kind of February we were used to. Not like the warm, sunny climate we had just left behind.

For two days our parents’ kidnapping had been kept from us. It was for our own good, they said. Maybe they were right. In the twenty-four hours since we’d been made aware, our panic grew rapidly. All that fear and anxiety was about to end.

There, I think they’re coming, said the copilot. A big black SUV was heading our way. As soon as it was obvious that this was the car, we raced for the forward exit, just behind the cockpit. The pilots were right behind. The captain unlatched the door and a stairway unfolded. The car was directly in front of us. Two steps down and we stopped to look back at the pilots, to thank them.

Go on, get out of here. Have a nice life Walkers, and be safe. No time for handshakes, hugs, anything. Before we hit the tarmac the car door opened and a military type guy got out.

"Willkommen. Welcome to Germany." Before the man could introduce himself, we raced past to look inside the car. Backing out, almost tripping over each other, we must have looked dazed, and angry. Another agent sat in the front seat.

Where are our parents? shrieked Phoebe. Followed by my question.

What the heck?

Calm down, kids. They’re safe. You’ll be seeing them in about three hours.

Something’s happened to them. You’re lying to us, again. The man pulled out a phone and dialed. Here.

Zane, Phoebe? It was Mom. Her voice was shaking.

Where are you? I said. Are you okay? How come you’re not here?

They thought it best to meet you away from the air field. Don’t worry, we’re fine, can’t wait to see you, here’s your father. Mom sounded like she was about to lose it.

They told us it would take you three hours tops, to get to where we’re meeting you. It was Dad, trying to assure us. Your mom and I can hardly wait. Are you two okay? Neither of us could get a word out. I had to take a deep breath.

We’re good, great, but we thought…doesn’t matter. I’m getting off so we can get going. Phoebe reached for the phone, but the connection ended.

Why did you do that? I wasn’t finished, said Phoebe.

I didn’t do anything. I said. Can we try again in the car?

Sorry Zane, I think we’ll have to wait until we get there—security reasons. We need to get going. We’ve brought some food for you just in case the box lunches the Air Force provided weren’t enough. Hungry?

Food was an immediate distraction. We both grumbled, but as soon as the car left the airport, we were ready to eat.

Chapter 4

Tinted windows made the gloomy day darker, more depressing. After the weather in Saudi, we felt like we were stepping out of a tanning bed and into a refrigeration unit.

Great to meet you kids. My name’s Rick and that’s Todd. We’ve heard some hair-raising stories about your Saudi adventures. Any of them true? I was tired of repeating the stories but I didn’t want to sound rude to these guys.

You’ll need to read the book. It was the best I could do.

"Well, not exactly. Not under the terms our agency negotiated on your behalf. We can talk about that later. Relief for your escape has been felt way beyond what you can imagine. We’ve scanned the Internet chatter, talked to our assets all over the Middle East and Europe, and it looks like your role in whatever you were up to has blown over. At this time, going into a witness protection program seems unnecessary. Our agency’s job is to get you comfortably settled, out of the limelight, for a reasonable amount of time.

There is one thing you need to know. Keeping you completely under wraps will be impossible. With the way you used the Internet and social media, your fame will not stay completely hidden. We will do our best to minimize your Grand Mufti footprint on this earth, but I’m telling you, do not be surprised when someone, out of the blue, recognizes you. Don’t be worried. Okay?

Okay, I guess. I can manage.

Todd had more. According to your parents, work back home is challenging to find, so working over here should be a great temporary solution. To help, we brought some relocation literature. Your mom and dad already have some of these.

We hadn’t been on the road for more than a half hour, settling in with the slick brochures, enjoying the ultra-smooth ride of a car twice the size of any other on the road. We couldn’t help check our watches, only to find the time creeping by in five-minute increments. This could have been the longest, most boring three-hour ride, when all of a sudden things changed. Without warning, or any kind of heads up, the car turned off the Autobahn, came to an abrupt stop, then turned down a short section of feeder road. Todd could see our worry in the mirror as Rick turned to explain.

Change in route. Protocol. No need for alarm, said Rick.

Todd added, You will be finishing your trip by train. He pointed to a rail siding at a small town station. The siding was deserted. A town appeared in the distance but there was no sign of passengers or cars near the station and the road from town looked like it dead-ended.

Perfect place for a murder, I said, taking no precaution to prevent the swiftly moving, unsuspected elbow Phoebe slammed into my side.

Ouch.

Be happy, jerk face. For once, see if you can stop yourself from sharing what you think are outrageously, off the wall bits of humor. It’s a beautiful day, in a beautiful country. Mom and Dad are waiting for us, so let’s give these guys a break.

Todd spoke up. Thanks Phoebe. This is also the perfect kind of place to carry on with your transfer, totally unobserved. All we could see for miles were farmlands, the steeple of a church in a town far away, and forests at the edge of every field.

As we boarded the train, Todd was smiling. We thought you’d like to finish the rest of your journey on the ICE, Germany’s high speed train called the Intercity Express. We’ll take this train to Nuremberg, then board a regional train for the last twenty kilometers.

I’ve read about the ICE, I said. 300 kilometers an hour?

Is this for our safety? asked Phoebe.

Yes, you could say that, but not exactly. After all you’ve been through, we thought you might enjoy something really cool. You and your parents can compare notes. They’re coming in on another ICE from a different direction. It’s our way to welcome you to Germany. To myself I thought, and you’re sure we don’t need to be in witness protection?

Can you tell us where we’re going? And are you coming with us?

I’ll be continuing on with you, said Todd. Both of us won’t be necessary. Another of our team will be waiting for you at our destination. We’re heading to a small college town called Erlangen, in Bavaria—the southern-most German state—a most beautiful area. Here we are, hop on, we’re just in time. Todd led us to a private cabin, reserved for us.

This is cool, said Phoebe. This must be first class. Look at all this beautiful carpeting and inlaid woodwork. Listen Zane. The train was pulling out of the station and rapidly gaining speed. It’s so quiet. You can hardly feel the movement. We watched, spellbound, as the train blew by the German countryside: rolling hills, farmland, and green everything. Saudi was rapidly becoming a distant memory.

Why all the special treatment? I asked. The plane and now first class, on this cool train?

Protocol—the safest way to move you around. Remember, even with the way you stirred things up, your country, not to mention the Saudis, are grateful for your help in bringing down that al Qaeda cell. So sit back, enjoy the ride." I couldn’t help thinking about Faisal, the leader of the cell I had helped take down—and former friend. It was difficult to picture him in a Saudi jail, or worse. No matter, fingers crossed our paths would never cross again.

I had more questions. Why Erlangen? Never heard of it.

It’s a central location to many of the schools the US government sponsors in Germany. You can rest and relax while you and your family decide where to go next. One of the schools you might decide on is located in Erlangen. I know you’ve heard of Nuremberg. Erlangen is just twenty minutes north. The school there is not one of our government schools but one the US Department of Defense is making available to you if you wish.

Zane, look how blurry the landscape appears. How fast are we going?

Somewhere between 180 and 300 km/h, probably closer to one eighty, said Todd. Different tracks are rated for different speeds but I don’t think the rails we’re on can handle the faster speeds. If you’re still hungry, we can go to the dining car. Let me know. For now, sit back and enjoy the ride. We’ll be there soon.

I was so mesmerized by the clean, beautiful look of Germany, and the super speed of the train, that I didn’t notice when it began to slow down. It didn’t take but a second to come to a complete stop and the doors to open.

Chapter 5

There Phebes, I said, pointing to Mom and Dad standing on the platform, waving wildly, pointing to us. Barreling over me, Phoebe raced for the doors before they were fully open. I was a close second. Neither of us saw beyond the two people we wrapped our arms around. Todd stayed in the background, enjoying the reunion. After a few minutes he looked at his watch.

Come on Walkers. Hate to break this up but we promised the pension you’d be there by 4 P.M.

The what? Wait. I saw that word in many of the brochures. What’s a pension? I thought that was what you get when you retire. Phoebe said.

Todd clarified. "That’s what many small hotels are called in Germany, and in Europe. It’s pronounced, penn si own. Many new things to get used to but you’ll be fine."

After the initial hug fest we took a minute to clear our eyes, step back, and look at each other. In the past seventy-two hours, neither the Walker adults nor their children had any knowledge of where each other had been, or what traumas any of us had been through. The stories were about to overflow.

We fought for the first turn. What happened? Where did you and Mom go? Were you treated all right? Is your bullet wound okay, Dad? And where did they take Shaza? Did the Al Juhi’s go back to Saudi?

Are you kidding? said Dad. You think we’re giving anything up before we hear what happened to you and Phoebe over the past three days? Looks like we had to go first—the story of our escape. But before our escort started wheeling out what little luggage we had, Dad stopped him. Nope. Not yet. Sorry. Give us five minutes Todd, please. Todd looked flummoxed, but agreed. I think he was fascinated by the Walker clan.

Okay, five minutes, he agreed. Then we have to go. Let’s grab that wooden bench back out of the way. We’re lucky that this is a slow time of the day for travelers."

The folks weren’t about to give up anything until we started talking. Phoebe and I looked at each other. Who would go first—always the source of unending arguments? This time, Phoebe was willing to let me start.

We thought it was going to be easy as soon as we rescued Phoebe. Two cars, one right behind the other, a straight shot to the American embassy, right? I guess that was too much to expect. After your driver took off through the intersection, we were stymied. They picked one of the busiest intersections in Riyadh, so by the time the traffic cleared, your car had disappeared. We had no idea why Mansoor would just take off, but with just the two us, we were on our own. After driving around for a couple of hours, totally lost, with no help from anyone, we found a road that looked familiar.

Zane was fabulous, Phoebe beamed. You wouldn’t believe how well he drove in that crazy traffic.

Thanks, Phebes. The folks looked impressed, but now was not the time to explain how their underage, unlicensed son had pulled that off.

After finding a familiar road, I knew exactly how to get back to school. Once there, we hid out for a couple of days, protected by Mr. T—who was also hiding out—and were finally picked up and escorted to an air base where we were given a ride in a C-130 to Germany. Phoebe looked at me as if I was talking in slow motion.

We only have five minutes, Phebes. I know there’s lot more, but we can fill in the rest later. I want to hear what happened to Mom and Dad. I’m not sure they were satisfied, but Todd reminded them of their promise to keep it to five minutes, total.

We expect all the gaps to be filled in later, right? he said.

Promise? said Phoebe.

Okay. Dad had the floor. "We were startled and scared