The Two-Plate Solution by Jeff Oliver

Author:Jeff Oliver
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bancroft Press

Sara and Al-Asari stood out on the balcony trying to make sense of the fact that Genevieve Jennings, the Network’s VP of Current Production, was hog-tied on the floor of the laundry room, a ticking time bomb for the whole crew.

“Interesting day,” Al-Asari said.

“Day ain’t over yet,” Sara said.

“This is not insurmountable,” said Al-Asari. “It mustn’t be.”

“Kidnapping a Network Exec? No, you’re right. That’s nothing.”

“At least no one got hurt,” Al-Asari said. “A miracle really.”

“You think so? Because to me, it’s a huge problem,” said Sara.

“I don’t follow,” said Al-Asari.

Sara lit a cigarette. “Jennings sprayed a full clip in there.”

“Yes.”

“Well, no one got so much as a scratch,” said Sara.

“Like I said, a miracle.”

“Or the gun had blanks,” Sara said. “Which makes me wonder if you guys have any bullets at all. I’m pretty certain that’s what the crew’s thinking.”

“Oh, we have bullets alright,” said Al-Asari.

“The crew probably thinks this is all bullshit. Probably all scheming to revolt right now.”

“We shot Lopez,” said Al-Asari.

“Yes, you did shoot Lopez,” Sara said.

“If you suspect us of being unarmed, a better question might be why you haven’t turned on us already?” said Al-Asari. “You’ve had several opportunities. Why not?” Sara didn’t answer. Al-Asari smiled. “I’m sure you have your reasons,” he said. “Want to know what I think motivates you?”

“Thrill me,” said Sara.

“You know that we’re not terrorists. That we had nothing to do with the bombing in Haifa.”

“Oh, that’s real plausible. You’re all over the news escaping in vans…”

“Do you know what Mal-Malaika means in Arabic?” asked Al-Asari. “It means ‘with the angels.’ Each one of us in our group has had a friend or family member killed in this war with Israel. I visited America once—Albuquerque—and a good friend was in a support group for people who’d lost loved ones—a survivor’s group. It helped him.

“So when I came back to the West Bank, I started such a support group. Only a few of us came at first. We talked. Some talked of revenge—some had gotten themselves involved in bad things. But it was a place to talk. To heal. The authorities had us on some list. I went in to speak to them about it. I tried to explain that we were non-violent.

“They detained me. Three weeks on a dirt floor, no lawyer, no phone calls. A piss-stained bag on my head for hours a day. They had me chained to a radiator and made me sit in awkward positions until my back burned. Once, I blacked out from the pain.”

“If you think I have some kind of sympathy for you…”

“After I got out of jail, I found that the group had split off,” said Al-Asari. “And they were making all kinds of plans for revenge. I tried to talk them out of it—to say that violence would lead to nothing. But then we were raided. The Israelis had discovered the plans. And there was a shoot-out. Did people die? I don’t know, but I wish to God, no.

“My instinct was

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