CHAPTER 1

They reached the coast at midnight. The two military trucksturned off the main highway onto a neglected gravel track whichwound through rows of orange trees. From where he sat perchedin the back of the second truck, Sami saw the fruit reflected in theheadlights like glowing yellow eyes.

After bumping slowly around deep potholes, the trucks pulledup at a cluster of five old wooden huts around a clearing. In a hugeopen-sided shed, empty wooden crates were stacked untidily fromfloor to ceiling.

Sami still felt sick from the winding drive down the mountain.He had sat on the men's rucksacks and kept a tight grip on the threerubber dinghies beside him as the truck lurched around the tightbends. He'd had to take slow deep breaths to stop himself fromthrowing up.

Captain Baqar, the leader of the Fidayeen Commandos, jumpeddown from the first truck and looked around. A short, bear-likeman with a temperament to match, he took every opportunity toassert his authority.

'Everyone out,' he yelled in Arabic. 'I want an armed guardwatching the trucks! These bloody locals, I don't trust them.'

The commandos climbed out of the two trucks and stretchedtheir legs after the long drive. One of the officers, a tall, lean-facedman, pointed at the shacks across the clearing. 'Move your gear intothose two huts.'

Sami helped the men unload their kitbags from the back of thetruck and helped carry bedrolls across to the huts. Captain Baqarstood smoking with the other two officers, speaking in urgent tonesabout the mission. Sami knew that their target was an oil storagedepot which supplied the northern Israeli military outposts. Itsounded as if the officers were afraid they might be detected as theyapproached the depot by sea.

After the last bag was unloaded, Sami stretched his achingback and took a deep breath. The salty air and the sound of waveswashing up on the nearby beach reminded him of his parents'home in Colombo. His father used to lead Sami and his brotheracross the railway tracks to the sand, where they would search forseashells among the rocks and run from the waves that chasedthem up the beach. Normally Sami tried not to think about hisfamily and the fact they had no idea where he was. It just depressedhim.

The captain turned to Sami. 'Don't stand around sniffing the airlike a dog. Get my bags in there and make sure we have somewhereto sleep.'

Sami picked up the captain's bedroll and rucksack and rantowards the hut. It didn't pay to be around the captain when he wasin a foul mood.

The hut door wouldn't open. Sami shoved it hard with hisshoulder. The hinges groaned as the door opened. As his eyesadjusted to the dim light he saw old faded posters of Hollywoodmovies curling on the dirty scuffed walls. A layer of fine sandcovered everything and crunched under Sami's feet as he crossedto open the window. The room smelled of rotten food and piss.Rubbish lay in the corners and a pile of unwashed plates wasstacked on the floor against the back wall.

Sami didn't want to be there. Only that morning he hadbeen called from his hut in the mountain camp and ordered toaccompany the commandos down to the Israeli border. His jobwould be unloading the boats the men would use to approach theirtarget the next night. It sounded simple but he'd heard stories fromother servants of previous raids into Israel going horribly wrong.

Sami's ribs still ached where the captain had kicked him whenSami said he didn't want to go with them down to the coast.

'You worthless piece of shit, who are you to question me?' Itwas not the first time the captain had hit him. He yelled and threwthings at all the servants in the camp.

Most of the Palestinian officers treated Sami like an animal.But it was better than that filthy Saudi gaol where they found him.Sami owed the Palestinians for getting him out of the clutches ofthe Afghan gang. He couldn't stop himself thinking about what hadhappened in gaol. It slipped into his thoughts hundreds of times aday.

The captain poked his head through the door of the hut. 'Whata goddamn shithole,' he growled. 'God, I hate this country.'

Sami kept out of the captain's reach as the man stompedtowards the back room. It looked like the fruit pickers had usedthe back room for sleeping. The room had four rows of bunk beds,each mattress rolled and tied with a cord. Sami rushed to open thetwo windows, letting in fresh air that smelt of the sea.

The captain looked around. 'This is better!' He flexed his headthis way and that to loosen his neck muscles. He grunted andpulled one of the beds closer to a window. 'Unroll it here,' he said.'And get rid of that filthy mattress. I don't want it anywhere nearme.'

The two young officers who followed the captain into the backroom looked nervous. Sami knew it was their first mission. Theireyes darted around the room, knuckles white where they clutchedtheir weapons.

Lieutenant Shafiq nodded at Sami as they passed. Not mucholder than Sami, the lieutenant reminded him of his older brother.He had the same deep-set eyes that made him look serious evenwhen he was trying to be funny.

After the officers settled in their hut, Sami sat outside on thestep. The sea breeze had picked up, rustling the leaves on the fruittrees. Sami could hear the men talking inside. He knew he shouldget some sleep but his mind was restless. He just wanted to be backin the mountains where he felt safe.

The sentry patrolling the open area walked over. 'Hey Sami,has the captain been giving you a hard time?' He had a laugh in hisvoice.

Sami waved to him. 'What do you think, my friend?'

Abdul was the youngest of the Fidayeen fighters. He used tocome to the kitchen hut in the camp and he and Sami had becomefriends. He would give them all cigarettes in return for Lebanesebread that he would smuggle away under his tunic.

Abdul grinned at Sami, and walked towards the orchards at theback of the hut.

The truck had backed up against a sloping ramp and Samiclimbed it to retrieve his bedroll and bag. The torn, old canvasbag held everything that he owned: a clean thawb and a change ofunderwear wrapped around a toothbrush and a piece of soap. In anouter pocket a plastic card identified him as an indentured servantof the Palestinians. Everyone needed some form of identification inthis security-mad country.

The canvas bag also concealed a secret: a small but growingstash of money stuffed in the lining, notes he had collected fromthe men's pockets when they threw their clothes at him for washing.Sami was determined to leave this place one day and the moneygave him hope that he would one day walk in the front door of hisparents' house.

He found a clean place to unroll his bedding on the floor of thehut and propped open the door with a piece of wood. He stretchedout but could not sleep. He tried to focus on the familiar soothingsound of the waves, but all he could think about was headingback to the mountains with the trucks after the men left on theirmission.

After lying awake for what seemed like an hour, Sami creptout of the hut. He took a few deep breaths of the salty night airand looked around for Abdul. He had to be careful. Abdul mightmistake him for a local.

The bright moon made huge balls of cotton of the high,rounded clouds. The faint glow from the city of Sidon to the northhid some of the more distant galaxies that he could normally seefrom the training camp in the mountains. Sami walked into theorchard behind the hut. He could...