The Other Half of My Soul (20 page)

Yousef was pushed into a corner. He needed Rami back in Washington with the professor. Additionally, Rami had negotiated a very fine deal with Carlos el Negro and re-established that relationship. Yousef was forced to accept that, no matter how rebellious Rami might have been, he was more valuable alive than dead. “You find Rami, Abdallah. I want him back alive!”

“You said to get rid of him, boss. I did what you ordered. By now, even Allah can’t bring him back.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I said! When I ask for something, nothing is impossible. I’m commanding you to find Rami. Bring him back. If he is dead, then you shall meet the same fate.”

* * *

Exhausted from lack of sleep, Kamil made his way back to Ciudad del Este. Entering the store, he found Omar with a customer. Kamil signaled to him. Omar pretended not to see. Kamil signaled again. Omar ignored him. Kamil stepped up to him.

“I am busy with a customer,” Omar snapped.

“You’re coming with me. I need you to help find Rami.”

Omar continued with the customer, discounting Kamil. Kamil lost his temper and grabbed Omar by the neck. “Look, I’m tired and I’m hungry, so don’t try my patience. If you persist in ignoring me, I will slit your throat. Like Yousef, I don’t make idle threats.”

In fear, the customer fled the store. Omar twitched nervously. His hands shook. He nodded. Kamil released him. Omar walked to the back and pressed a hidden buzzer. Kamil followed closely behind. Abdallah cracked the door. “I need to speak with Yousef. It is urgent.”

“Omar, if a customer has a complaint, handle it.” Abdallah moved to shut the door. Kamil quickly shoved his foot into the open space before Abdallah could close it.

“You heard Omar. Get Yousef! It’s urgent!” Defiantly, Kamil kept his foot wedged in the doorway.

“Yousef,” Abdallah called out, “Omar says it’s urgent.”

“What do you want, Omar? Make it quick. I’m busy.”

Through the crevice, Kamil came face-to-face with Yousef.
This is the monster who killed my father and snatched my brother from my arms
.
Killing him now would be easy. Just reach for the gun
. Then Kamil considered the consequences.
Saving Rami must take priority. Another opportunity will come
. Kamil was certain of it.

“Ummm, this is a friend of Rami’s . . . ummm . . . ummm . . . well . . .”

“Say it, Omar! I don’t have all day.”

“He asks for my help . . . to find Rami.”

“Then go with him. Take what you need. Bring back Rami. I want him alive. Your life depends on it. Do you understand?” Yousef slammed the door and bolted it.

twenty-two

Maybe the wildest dreams are merely the needful preludes to the truth.

—Alfred Lord Tennyson

In a clearing behind palms and mango trees, a crude hut made of branches, mud, and thatch stood on stilts. On the small allotment of land, a plot of coca plants grew in the rear. Vines with triangular floppy leaves flourished next to the coca. These vines, known as yaje, are sacred and mystical to the indigenous Cofan Indians who inhabit the forest. Male shamans in the tribe prepare the yaje for ingestion by scraping the plant’s bark, boiling it, and then mashing it into an oily, putrid-tasting liquid.

In a ritual that is performed once every ten days, the men drink the brew, believing it cures infirmities, grants direct communication with God, and guides the way to treat illness and root out evil. Yaje, with its ugly, bitter taste provokes repeated attacks of vomiting, diarrhea, and cold sweats. At times, the loss of normal self-control is so strong that those drinking it feel the presence of death upon them.

Rigid about the curative purpose of purgation to cleanse physical and mental impurities, the Cofan Indians maintain that yaje chastises the drinker in order to reform him and humiliates the indulger in order to teach him wisdom. Shamans insist that to get the full effect of the plant, one must ingest as much as possible for as long as possible.

* * *

A mother bathing her infant in the murky brown river guardedly watched the foreigner approach and then saw him fall. She waited for the young man to rise. When he did not, she sent her two older sons to investigate. They reported that the man appeared to be dead, but that his heart was beating. The woman instructed the boys to carry the stranger to the hut and fetch their father, a highly respected shaman in the humble Cofan community.

* * *

Inside the hut, the healer laid the stranger on the hard mud floor. He placed a folded animal skin under his head, removed his clothing, and carefully inspected his body. Recognizing the tarantula’s bite, the shaman ran his fingers over it. The back of the young man’s skull was swollen and hot to the touch. He traced the marking where a weapon had left its imprint. The medicine man rose. Colorful feathers hung from perforations in his nose and ears. His skin resembled dried leather. His long, gray-streaked hair was tied back with braided yarn.

After stirring his potion in a stained clay cup, the shaman knelt down beside the unconscious stranger, lifted his head, and slowly administered the foul-tasting drug. From his comatose state, the foreigner gagged, then retched. The shaman forced more of the liquid into him. Purging again, the stranger tried fighting off the Indian, but he was too weak and disoriented. The gruesome cycle had begun—choking down the putrid-tasting yaje, disgorging, discharging, and convulsing in cold sweats. For hours, the healer inflicted the foreigner with this harrowing drill. The mortal craved death, praying to Allah to release him from this perdition.

* * *

In a small private plane, Omar and Kamil landed in Puerto Asis, rented a jeep, and headed into La Paya National Forest. Omar knew the land. He had been there several times with Abdallah, and only hours before had heard the two assassins boast about the spot where they forced Rami from the jeep. Making idle chat, Omar commented on the region and indicated that three-fourths of the world’s annual production of refined cocaine came from southern Colombia. “I do not understand why people find such fascination with mind-altering substances and are willing to pay such high prices for them.”

Ignoring Omar’s small talk, Kamil asked the reason for his visits to the region.

“Many times, Abdallah tried unsuccessfully to make peace with a prominent drug lord that Yousef had angered. I came with him five times . . . uhhhh . . . right about here. I think this is where Nabil and Ahmad said they left Rami to die.” Kamil stopped the jeep and opened the door. “No! Do not get out,” Omar warned. “This place is crawling with caymans waiting for a meal.”

“Let’s hope that Rami was not one of their feasts.” Slowing the jeep to a crawl, Kamil let their two sets of eyes do the scanning as he edged the vehicle along. There was no sign of Rami, not even a remnant of his clothing. “Well, Omar, I suggest you start praying hard because we’re not leaving this forest without Rami. If he’s not alive, then count yourself alongside him. It’s up to you.”

Omar grew anxious. “There is a village nearby. A small group of Cofan Indians live there. Maybe Rami was fortunate enough to wander into it.”

“Take me there.”

Omar navigated Kamil around a field of mango trees and through mud and water until they reached a murky brown river. On the banks, they saw children playing and mothers bathing their infants. “Civilization!” Kamil gave out a sigh of relief and gradually brought the vehicle to a stop.

* * *

Rami’s depleted body lay dormant after hours of exorcism. Flowing colors and vivid kaleidoscopic designs whirled through his delirium.

The time was fifteenth-century Spain. On his flute, he played sweet music. Crouched behind a large rock, a young maiden took delight in the comforting sounds. The two were forbidden to speak. He was a Jew. She was a Moor. They had met in the big library in Córdoba where he found her hidden behind tall bookshelves. Being a female, she was banned from engaging in such irreverence and had risked discovery and chastisement. He began to secretly bring her books. Soon, they were defying the law and sneaking off into the mountains. They read to one another, engaged in intellectual discussions, and expressed their love—a love punishable by death because they were of different faiths.

In slow motion, patterns in the kaleidoscope shifted and colors sharpened in intensity.

At a safe distance, she watched as he entered the great library to study with his teacher, Hasdai ibn Shaprut, the famous Jewish physician and chief advisor to the caliph. The old man taught him much about medicine, philosophy, and love.

The facets reformatted. Another face appeared.

An old man with a mischievous grin, bushy eyebrows, and a full head of white hair. Was it Hasdai ibn Shaprut or Isaac, her grandfather? The faces merged. He could not distinguish one from the other.

The formations spun furiously and the colors twirled into darkened hues.

The Grand Inquisitor, Tomás de Torquemada, pushed his way into the library. His men pulled books from the shelves—books of medicine, mathematics, philosophy, and religion. Copies of the Quran were taken to the streets and burned. Torah scrolls, the Jewish lifeblood, were carried away. “Death and destruction to all non-Catholics.” This was the edict from Queen Isabella. Jews and Moors alike had two months to leave Spain, embrace Catholicism, or face death.

The kaleidoscopic illusion mutated into delicate silhouettes with colors spinning into soft pastels.

Hasdai ibn Shaprut invited him into his home. “I am an old man, too old to flee. But you, you are young. You must go. Take the beautiful Moorish girl and all that I have taught you. Journey south across the Straits into Morocco. In Ceuta, you will find refuge. Make the young maiden your wife. She will be good to you and give you many children.” The teacher reached into a box and extracted some coins. “Each day, boats carry Jews and Moors across the water to safety. These coins will pay for your passage. Hold tightly to the maiden’s hand. Do not let go, not until you are both safely on the other side. If your hands separate, she will be snatched from you and you will spend many lifetimes searching for her.”

“How do you know about her?” he asked the teacher.

The old man smiled mischievously. “Love always has a way of making itself known. Now go with God’s blessing, and remember my words.”

A peacefulness set in. Fluffy white clouds lifted him to the heavens.

Running, running, he held her hand securely in his. They arrived at the dock. For an instant, their hands separated as he reached down in his pocket to withdraw the coins for their passage. When he looked up, she was gone. Frantically, he searched everywhere. Again and again, he shouted her name.

“Rayna! Rayna! Rayna!”

Hearing the loud cries, the shaman edged closer. The yaje had worked its cure. The poison was gone from his body. The back of his head was now cool to the touch. The vision Rami had experienced would bring him enlightenment.

twenty-three

Wherever there is joy, there is suffering. If you want to have no suffering, then you must accept no joy.

—Excerpt from an old Vietnamese poem

Kamil turned off the engine. Cautiously, he and Omar got out of the car. A woman holding tightly to the infant nursing at her breast suspiciously eyed the two men. She motioned to her sons. They came near to protect her.

In his limited Spanish, Omar attempted to communicate, aware that the woman might not understand him. “
No queremos herirles a ustedes
.
Solamente buscamos nuestro hermano
.”

The baby began to cry. The mother slowly backed away with her two sons at her side. Omar pulled one hundred Colombian pesos from his pocket and held out the money. “
Por usted
.” Omar smiled,
“
Por favor
.”

While keeping his eyes intently on the woman, Omar translated for Kamil. “I told her we do not want to harm them. We are only looking for our brother. But these people have their own indigenous language and I am not sure she understood.”

Kamil reached into his pocket and extracted a hundred pesos. “Here.” He handed the money to Omar. “Add this to what you have already offered. Money is a universal language.”

The woman snatched the bills, then gestured with her hand, motioning for the men to follow her. She led them to a lone hut standing high on stilts.

* * *

Kamil climbed the crumbling dried-mud steps. Omar stayed below and kept watch. The woman called out to warn her husband.

Inside, the hut was dim, musty, and sparsely furnished. A strong, foul odor overpowered Kamil’s senses and he gagged. He wanted out, but instinct told him he must stay. Impulsively scanning the room, his eyes fell upon a murky corner. An indigenous Indian rose slowly, revealing a defenseless, unclad body on the floor. Kamil moved toward the listless figure. The shaman seized a hammer-like tool and threatened Kamil with it.

Pulling two hundred pesos from his pocket, Kamil used the trace of Spanish he had learned, “
Mi hermano. Mi hermano
.” He hoped the man would understand. The shaman greedily plucked the money from Kamil’s hand and stepped back. Kamil kneeled down and touched Rami’s face. “Rami, it’s Kamil. I’m going to take you out of here. Rayna is waiting for you.” Rami’s body seemed without life. Kamil put his ear to Rami’s chest. He listened for a heartbeat. It was weak. His breathing was shallow.
Rami needs medical attention or he’ll soon die
. Kamil attempted to lift him. The shaman darted swiftly, swinging the club into Kamil’s back, knocking him over. The stench of vomit rushed into his nostrils. Kamil knew that if he did not get out of the place soon, he would be sick. He pulled another two hundred pesos from his pocket and held it out. Grabbing the money from Kamil’s fingers, the shaman continued to block him. Reaching inside the waist of his pants, Kamil fingered the small handgun and contemplated using it.
If Carlos el Negro is a powerful kingpin in this region, then the natives must know of him
. “Carlos el Negro,” Kamil projected loudly. The shaman stepped back in fear. “Carlos el Negro,” Kamil reverberated as he charged down the unsound steps with Rami draped over his shoulder.

“Come on, Omar! Let’s get out of here before we have the whole tribe on our heels.”

* * *

Reaching the jeep, Kamil lay Rami across the back seat. Removing his own shirt, he covered Rami’s nakedness. “Omar, grab that jug of water and wet Rami’s mouth with a few drops every ten minutes. I’ll drive. You navigate.” Throwing the four-wheeler into gear, Kamil jammed his foot down on the gas pedal, knowing not to stop until they were well out of the forest.

From nowhere, a downpour descended upon them. Kamil turned on the wipers. Steam rose as the rain hit the earth. The windshield fogged. Kamil turned on the defroster, but it did not work. “Keep moving,” Omar warned. “We cannot afford to get stuck here.” The tires sank into mud and the wheels spun. Kamil tried rocking the vehicle. Omar turned around, dribbled a few drops of water into Rami’s mouth, then dampened his friend’s face. “He is still breathing.”

Drenched in perspiration, Kamil’s stress mounted as the tires continued to whirl. The rain stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The car lurched forward. They were on their way.

“We’ve got to get Rami to a hospital or he’ll die.” Kamil’s concern was pronounced.

“Why is Rami’s welfare your responsibility?”

“Something . . . he reminds me so strongly of my . . . Rami needs medical help or he’ll die.”

“Not here. Medical care is primitive. Cali is the closest big city. About an hour’s flight.”

“I can’t let him die. I can’t . . .”

“That makes two of us.” Omar’s life depended on it. Yousef had been clear about that.

Breathing a sigh of relief as they approached civilization, Kamil reached for the phone. “A signal! I got a signal!” He punched in Simon’s number. “Simon, am I happy to hear your voice. You need to listen . . . just listen. We’ve just come out of the forest, Omar and I. Rami is with us. He’s sick . . . really sick. He’s dehydrated. Needs fluids in his veins or he’ll die.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m approaching Puerto Asis. The town is remote and medical care is neolithic. Simon, you’ve got to get us out of here, fast. Omar says the closest big city is Cali . . .”

“Kamil, how soon can you get over to the airport?”

“Twenty . . . thirty minutes. The roads are poor.”

“A rescue team in a private plane should be landing in Puerto Asis within minutes. I’ll get word to the crew to watch for you, and fly you directly to Cali. Then I’ll arrange for a medical vehicle to meet you when you land. I’ll make sure they take you to a decent hospital.”

“Good. Thanks. Simon . . . Simon . . .” The connection faded. He glanced at Omar. “We’re going to the airport. Simon says a plane is waiting to take us to Cali.”

“Kamil, I will not be on that plane with you. I must return to Ciudad del Este and report back to Yousef.”

“Omar, think carefully about what you say. Don’t put Rami’s life in more danger.”

“I will be careful, as long as it does not threaten my own survival.”

“Omar, you said you have come many times into this forest with Abdallah to try and make peace with a prominent drug lord. Has Yousef himself ever come into this forest?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Snakes. He is deathly afraid of snakes.”

* * *

In a hospital in Cali, attentive nurses monitored Rami. Fluids, medicines, and nourishment dripped into the patient’s vein. Kamil remained at Rami’s side. “Rami. It’s Kamil. I’m here with you. You’re in good hands with good doctors. Rayna will be here soon. She’s been very worried about you. Don’t let her down. Fight with every ounce of life you have in you.”
Why is Rami’s welfare your responsibility?
Omar’s question haunted him.

* * *

The next morning, Rayna bolted into the hospital room, gave her wheeled suitcase a push to the side, and dashed over to Rami. She did not notice Kamil asleep in a chair, but her rustling awakened him. He opened his eyes and watched Rayna blink back tears as she ran her hands over the heavy stubble on Rami’s face. Gently, she pressed her lips to his. “Rami, sweetheart, it’s me, Rayna. You’re safe now. I’m here with you. Soon you’ll be well enough and we’ll go home.”

Kamil longed for that kind of love. He wished Maddy had just half of Rayna’s sensitivity.

“I love you so much. Squeeze my hand if you love me back.” She waited. Nothing. All at once, Rayna became aware of Kamil’s presence. “Why can’t he hear me?” she cried.

“He’s going to be okay.” Kamil rose from the chair and placed his hands on Rayna’s shoulders, turning her toward him. “Rami’s heartbeat was barely there when we brought him in. I wasn’t sure he would make it. But he’s young and strong. Each day you will see improvement and soon you can take him home.” Kamil looked into her face.
Without a trace of makeup, she could not be more lovely
. He wanted to comfort Rayna and, for a moment, his arms encircled her. She clung to him. The feel of her small breasts pressing against his chest aroused him. Her scent intoxicated him. Kamil felt an urge to kiss her. Swiftly, she pulled away. Flustered, Kamil stepped out of the room to give Rayna the time she needed to be alone with Rami.

* * *

The doctor soon came in. He checked Rami’s vital signs, then examined him. Rayna waited patiently. When he was done, he addressed her in Spanish. “Your husband was close to death when he arrived. Weak heartbeat. Severely dehydrated. Electrolytes, potassium, minerals, and blood-sugar level were all dangerously low. The intravenous is replenishing what he lost.”

Rayna wanted assurance that Rami would recover completely.

“We are waiting for the test results to be sure there is no damage to his kidneys or liver. We will know later today and I will come back and talk with you again.” He turned to leave, hesitated, then swung back around. “Earlier tests showed small remains of venom from a tarantula bite, but the medication will take care of that.”

“Thank you for all you have done.” She waited for him to leave, but he did not. “Is there something else, doctor?”

“Yes. Your husband . . . tell me about his use of drugs.”

“
Drugs
? What do you mean
drugs
?”

Briefly, the doctor spoke of the vestige of yaje in Rami’s blood and explained the effects of ingesting the potion.

“Never! My husband would never do that. I know him too well. And besides, it’s against his religion.”

“Then the drug was forced upon him.”

Rayna pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. Rami had suffered so greatly. The pain she felt for him was unbearable.

After the doctor left the room, she climbed onto the bed and, with her fingers, arranged Rami’s matted curls. She wrapped her arms around him, “You’re my world now. Don’t make me live without you.” She rested her ear against his chest listening to the beat of his heart. Rami opened his eyes, then went back to sleep.

* * *

In the late afternoon, the doctor returned with good news. “No damage to his kidneys or his liver. Once his strength returns, you can take him home. Maybe by the end of the week.” The doctor left. Rayna was overjoyed.

Kamil had been gazing out the window. He had not understood a word the doctor had said. Rayna drifted toward him, “Rami is getting better. I can take him home in a few days.” Kamil swiveled to face her. “Thank you, Kamil. Simon told me you are a good man. I now see it’s true.” Their eyes held for a long moment.

“I’m going to find something for us to eat. You need some food in your stomach or you won’t be any good for Rami when he wakes up.”

“Thank you, Kamil.” She touched his hand.

* * *

Rayna and Kamil ate together in the hospital room while Rami slept. “There are problems between Yousef and Abdallah. Omar said they argue often. The good news is that Yousef will not bother Rami for a long time. He needs him for the project with Nolan, and is willing to wait it out. At least that’s what Omar tells me.”

“Kamil, I’m grateful for all you have done.”

“I know you are.”

“Kamil . . . I was not very nice to you. I apologize.”

“No, you were right. I had it coming.” He struggled with his feelings for her and the responsibility he felt for Rami.

“Go back to New York, Kamil. You have a story to write. Just mask things and make the names fictitious.”

Lightly brushing the back of his fingers over Rayna’s cheek, he smiled, “I know how to do that. Now, will you be okay if I go to the hotel and get some sleep?”

“Yes. We’ll be fine.”