Blood Lily Company - Afghanistan, year 1

XLI

The next morning, well, the next midday, rather, since it was easily 11am when we all met, the five of us, in the mess hall in front of a light breakfast, we looked rather awake, apart from Erk, but like I already said, he has a hard time waking up. And with barely five hours sleep, it was worse. Eating seemed to make him better.

Tito had served coffee for all of us, as well as the fruits that were all Cook was allowing us before the lunch that was about to come. My favorite Albanian had kindly peeled and cut the apples and pears and presented them on two plates.

Kris and Baby Jane thanked him, I did the same and Erk arrived, barely functional. So barely functional that he sat, eyes closed, accepted the mug Tito was putting in his hand and began to drink with his eyes still closed. When Quenotte, JD and Kitty joined us, he opened one eye, nodded in response to the hellos, and finally saw the fruit. And the fork Tito was handing to him. He thanked him and started to eat a little.

I glanced at Kris. He was looking worriedly at the two men, his nose in his cup, to hide his expression, but as I was seated next to him, I could see his concern. I expected some jealousy, given the confidences he gave me when we went out to steal the kerosene. I know he loves his brother with a love that goes beyond pure brotherly love sometimes. I have also seen his tenderness towards the giant when he needs it. And I remember the meals where Kris, without seeming to pay more attention than necessary, would cut his brother's meat so he could eat when his arm was still in a sling. Little attentions that showed me the love that exists between these two extraordinary men.

A little attention like the one Tito had just had for the Viking, putting a mug or a fork in his hand so he could have breakfast. But no, on Kris' face, it's not jealousy. Erk, half asleep, accepted Tito's attention as coming from a comrade, nothing more. Tito probably put into it all the love he felt for the Icelander, knowing that the other man would see nothing.

Kris' eyes slid over to me, he frowned, I gave a very slight smile and then, pretending to drink, mouthed "Joseph". The skin around his eyes tightened then relaxed and he nodded discreetly.

Well, he knew that I knew. And since I had told him about Tito's love for Erk, I had to hope he would be ready for anything.

JD asking us how our mission went, Kris told him they would have to wait, like the others, for the return of the reporters, those who had stayed behind to film the reaction of Durrani's men. JD grumbled but Kris said he didn't want to tell it twice. And then, as Kitty looked disappointed, he said if Tito, Baby Jane or I wanted to tell, after all, why not. But we all three played dumb, in the first sense of the word.

For his part, Erk was more awake. He pulled his hair up into a bun which he held with four hair pins under Kitty's bewildered eyes and Baby Jane's admiring.
- Erk, I have a very personal question for you, said the beautiful Englishwoman.
- Hmm?
- You're what... twenty-five, right?
- Since just after Christmas, yes. Why?
- Because if you have a miracle product to make your hair grow so much in two years, I'm sure you would make a fortune.
- What?
- You left the Legion two years ago, right? As he nodded, she continued. You must have had a crew cut, like everyone else, right?

He laughed frankly.
- No. I stopped cutting my hair when I started high school, about ten years ago. Usually, Dýri would leave us alone in the summer and cut our hair for the start of the school year. And that year I asked him to leave it alone, he just trimmed them and... voila.
- OK, so that explains the length, but not how you managed to avoid the clipper at the Legion.

Here, he looked down, rubbed the wing of his nose, looking embarrassed.
- I'm a little ashamed of myself, I must admit. I... I used a little bit of sexism.

And he blushed.
- I pointed out that if women were allowed to keep their hair long, there was no reason I couldn't either. All in the name of fairness, which is a major tenet of the Foreign Legion.
- And it worked, said the Englishwoman, stating the obvious.
- Yep, it did. This is Kris. The weirdest part of it is that it worked. He gave them his big smile and they gave in. But he was very careful to always have them up in a bun, always impeccable, so that they would not fault him. It's a woman... Sandra? Sophia?
- Sonja. We called her Red Sonja, after an old American comic book. She taught me how to do this bun and she taught Kris too, after he dislocated my shoulder for the first time.

I didn't say anything, but I know what he was talking about.
- And you've never cut your hair since?
- No, Kris trims it every three months or so, and that's it.
- Shit... If you knew how many women would like to have your hair... Or your eyelashes, for that matter.

Erk was stunned silent. Baby Jane leaned over to him.
- Look, Kitty, how long and thick they are.

Kitty walked over to him and Erk, pulling himself together, starting simpering, batting his long eyelashes.
- You want to know my secret, don't you? he said in a slightly hoarse voice.
- Oh yes! The two girls said in unison, taking a silly and breathy voice.
- And what would you be willing to give for this secret?

Kitty looked surprised, Baby Jane cooed: "A kiss". Erk raised an eyebrow and we heard:
- On the cheek only.
- Doc, Erk said with a big smile, half turning to our doctor. My savior! Thanks to your arrival, I won't have to reveal my secret.

He had made a nice save.
- I'll send you the bill, Viking.
- What about your Oath of Hypocrite? He had a smirk on his face.
- My Hippocratic Oath does not apply to your secrets, my boy, she smirked back at him.

She approached, the smallest of the Company, to kiss the biggest of the forehead, and she didn't even have to bend down.

Cook rang the Navy bell that Lin had installed at the entrance to the mess hall, and our comrades at the base joined us for lunch. Today it was Flemish stew. A pure pleasure, once again.

Just before dessert, the four reporters walked into the mess hall, covered in dust and wearing big smiles.

One of them spotted Lin and lifted the tablet he had in his hand. She motioned for him to come and give it to her. She put it on the table next to her and continued to eat. The reporters sat down at the table and began their stew. With a gesture and a wink from Erk, they slowed down. With a stern look from Lin, they sped up a bit.

Dessert arrived. No movie. Coffee was served and we were all chomping at the bit.

Lin stood up, asked Tito to recount what had happened the day before. When asked what I had done with the dye, I said they would see.

Lin had given the tablet to Kris who transferred the image to the white wall, as usual. We all saw the quiet stud farm, then we heard a cry of alarm, very far away. The camera zoomed in on the horse tethered outside and we could only see its hindquarters, as its back was to the camera. The gate opened, the grooms approached, one ripped off his headgear and threw it on the ground. Another, quieter man, untied the animal and led it to the gate, showing us its flank.

We all burst out laughing: the man was holding the halter of a golden zebra, with the long slender limbs of the Akhal-Teke stallion. Even though I had been the artist, I had not seen my work in the light of day.

Why did we paint the beast? Because it was out of the question for the grooms or the head of the stud farm to hide this event from Duran Duran. Lin's dye, made from walnut stain and cuttlefish ink, would hold for a while, and even if they decided to shave the horse, I had made sure to dye the skin too, at least on the surface. Which was easier than you might think, as the horse had a very short coat.

Our action looked like a high school prank, and yet... Yet it showed that we had the power to come to his place and had the delicacy, the tact, to not do anything serious. We imitated the Native Americans in counting coup, telling Durrani: "We could have done worse".

Obviously, rather than disguising the animal as a zebra, we could have written threatening messages, verses of the Quran, insults, or even drawn a dick, but we all thought the zebra to be innocuous enough, childish enough to destabilize the Pashtun, who would expect the stallion to be stolen or killed or...

Once again, the idea was not to sign our action, but to destabilize him enough that he dared not act. Durrani is no dumber than any other man. He would eventually find the culprits. In the meantime, we hoped to have had our little effect.