A Test of Loyalty

Part 13 Faraj

Faraj

Fadi certainly looked relaxed. Sitting in the library carrel with his feet up on the chair beside him, reading the paper. He had a pile of books on the table in front of him, but wasn't paying them any attention.

I had a couple of history books under my arm, just for show. I needed a reason to sit at the table next to him.

I walked over nervously, but as I arrived at the carrels, he just glanced at me and dropped his feet to the floor. That was it, not a sign of recognition. He went back to his paper, so I pulled a notebook out of my bag and started doing homework. At least I'd get something out of this.

About forty minutes later, Fadi's cell phone rang. As he talked, he packed up his stuff and disappeared between the stacks. Striving to look casual, I pulled the paper over and thumbed through it. Stuck in by the comics was a note from Fadi.

It said to go to the men's room on the third floor; the package was tucked into the toilet tank of the third stall. I was both thrilled and frightened, I felt like I was in a movie. Carefully checking to see that no-one was watching me, I got up and headed for the third floor. Then I went back, stuffed my books into my backpack and left again.

The bathroom was, thankfully, empty. It was dark and a bit dirty, but I figured that was normal in an old building. I was just lucky nothing was broken or leaking. I stepped into the third stall, feeling very self-conscious.

I carefully locked the door behind me and stared at the old, stained toilet. I had to reach into the tank for whatever it was Fadi had left me? Yuck!

Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as I thought. I quietly lifted the lid from the tank and laid it across the toilet seat. I could see a small package tightly wrapped in a plastic grocery bag, tucked behind the tower thing in the tank. It looked to have a lot of tape on it to keep it sealed. I guessed that it was about the size of a thin paperback book.

I opened the stall door and looked out, still no-one around. I locked the door again. I stared at the greasy looking water in the tank. The package was wedged well underwater, more than halfway down. There was no help for it; I was going to have to reach in.

So I gritted my teeth, pulled up my sleeve, and too quick to think about it, reached in and grabbed the plastic and yanked.

My fingers slipped on the wet surface and my hand flew up to smack me in the chin. My empty hand. I could've screamed in disgust at the slimy water, and now I had to do it again.

So I reminded myself that Fadi had proposed this to prove I was trustworthy. I couldn't shame him, and myself, by being too squeamish to get a bloody book and deliver it. I refused to think of the package as anything but a book.

So, I pulled up my sleeve again, gritted my teeth and stuck my hand in the cold water once more.

The cold slime was gross, but I grasped the package firmly and tugged it. It didn't move. Shit.

Then I thought to tug it sideways, and it slipped free. I pulled it quickly from the tank and yanked off some toilet paper to dry it. There was water soaked into every fold, but it didn't seem to have gotten past the tape. At least I hoped it hadn't.

I sat down to try to dry it off before putting it in with school books. Then the bathroom door opened, and a pair of footsteps came in slowly, quietly. Reflexively, I pulled my feet up and out of sight.

The footsteps checked the length of the bathroom, pausing outside my stall. I held my breath, suddenly convinced that this was a cop. They'd been watching Fadi and the others, he saw me take Fadi's note, and he knew I was in here. He knew I had the package.

He still hadn't moved from in front of my stall. I was starting to see flashy lights and was burning with the desperate need to breathe. Then, thankfully, he moved back to the door.

I inhaled as quietly as I could, fighting the urge to gulp at the air like a drowning man. I started to move my feet back to the floor.

Then the door opened and a second man came in. I yanked my feet back up.

I could hear them approach the sinks. One of them sniffed, and I wondered if they could smell me. I sweated more just thinking about that.