Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Jack
The weather-beaten motorcar rumbled down the road from Jericho, rocks kicking up under the tires, a cloud of dust billowing into the midday air behind them, leaving a trail.
From the backseat, Jack looked over his shoulder, adjusting the scarf over his mouth to keep himself from inhaling the dust. Ruby had similarly ducked her face behind her scarf when they’d started out, and she kept her head down beside him.
No one appeared to be following them for now.
Good. Jack let out a slow breath, but the tension that had coiled his shoulders since Lydda station stayed locked tight.
Ruby seemed convinced Theo would let the matter drop and realize he’d lost, but Jack didn’t have that sort of confidence—Theo didn’t seem like a man who liked losing face.
And even if Theo kept quiet, Roger—the customs officer they’d locked in that cell—would have to tell someone what happened.
British authorities didn’t shrug off forged papers and smugglers at the edge of Palestine.
Behind them, the motorcar’s rattling engine drowned out the hush of wind in the low hills. The desert heat blurred the horizon ahead, a wavering mirage of freedom that felt miles out of reach.
Everything about this trip feels haphazard. So dangerous.
The incident at Lydda station had solidified one thing—Jack couldn’t risk going to Fahad for help.
If Roger reported Jack this close to Jerusalem, anyone looking for him would likely approach his known friends and allies first. He’d never wanted to drag Fahad into this in the first place. Now it was impossible.
The motorcar slowed. Ahead of them, pulled to the side of the road, a goods lorry waited, two locals standing beside it. Waiting.
The driver of the motorcar parked behind the lorry and killed the engine.
Jack flicked a glance at Ruby, who sat straighter and gave Jack a tense smile.
This was all part of the new plan—have smugglers take them across the Allenby Bridge to get through the official checkpoints into Transjordan, then travel with them to Amman, where they could take Bedouin tribal routes to Baghdad.
And it was, quite possibly, the most dangerous route to Baghdad imaginable.
Besides drug smugglers and desert raiders, they’d have to trust their Bedouin guides to get them to Baghdad—and while Jack had spent plenty of time with the Bedouin, he didn’t know any of the tribes between here and Baghdad.
This is when Noah would have been worth his weight in gold.
The smugglers opened up the back of the lorry for Ruby and Jack.
Wooden crates filled the back, stacked amidst a thick layer of straw that reeked of barnyard animals.
One smuggler led them toward the back of the lorry and pointed to a large wooden crate half covered with a grey blanket.
He opened the crate. “In,” he said gruffly in Arabic.
Ruby paled as Jack translated. “Does he mean both of us?”
Jack grimaced and asked the smuggler, who nodded.
Ruby released a shaky breath. “This might not be the best time to mention it—but I’m a bit claustrophobic.”
“It’ll only be for a little while,” Jack said in a reassuring voice. He offered his hand out to her. “Until we’ve gone over the bridge and gotten through the checkpoint, I’m sure.”
A beat of silence passed, and Ruby stared at his proffered hand warily.
At last she took it, then went toward the crate with him.
Jack climbed inside, relieved to find it empty and lined with a sheet.
The scent of overly dry wood and some sort of fuel tickled his nostrils, and he wrinkled his nose as he tried to settle as comfortably as he could.
He was too tall to stretch out—his knees would have to be bent, and that would get painful fast.
God, I hope we’re in here only a short time.
Ruby climbed in after him, and she trembled as she lay beside him. He stretched an arm out, letting her curl into the crook of his arm and rest against his shoulder. “Th-this is cozy,” she managed, taking short, shallow breaths.
“Eh, we’ll be fine.” He fought the temptation to feel badly for her. This was part of the job, after all, and she was getting well paid for it.
A pitchfork tossed straw on top of them, and Ruby froze. “Are they going to bury us?” she yelped.
A few bits of straw drifted down his collar as sweat trickled behind Jack’s neck. The air grew staler and, somewhere by his ear, a winged insect buzzed. “Cover us, it would seem.” Jack’s hand tightened around her. “Close your eyes. Try to breathe. Deep breaths.”
“If I breathe deeply, I’m going to sneeze,” she hissed, her breath growing shallower.
A blanket covered them fully then, blocking most of the light from above them, followed by more straw—and then something with some weight. With each addition, Ruby’s breathing became less steady.
When the crate lid closed, she shook, and in the dim light from the gaps between the crate slats, Jack caught sight of her tightly closed eyes.
“You’re doing well,” he said gently. The gate to the lorry slammed shut.
She gritted her teeth. “The things I do for money,” she said with bitter self-deprecation. “My family better appreciate this someday.”
Her family?
Despite the fact that they’d been traveling together for a couple of days, he knew so little about her—he wasn’t even sure if she’d given him her real name.
But this was going to be a long trip through the checkpoint if she didn’t calm down some.
They might not even make it through the checkpoint.
The officials were likely to check the cargo, and her panic might give them away.
“Where are you from, Ruby?” he asked in a low voice. The engine of the lorry rumbled.
“Y-you really feel l-like talking now?”
“Could help. Besides, it’s better than thinking about how my legs are cramping already.”
His words caused her to shift, her knees bumping against his thigh. “T-Texas,” she whispered after a moment. “My f-folks had a farm in Bulverde.”
Texas.
He’d spent plenty of time there—his grandfather had lived there, near Dallas. And Jack had lived in Arizona for a while, before that. “They still there?”
Ruby shook her head. The crate creaked with the movement of the lorry. As the vehicle dipped, a dull thud from the cargo near them made Ruby flinch. After another few beats of silence, she said, “N-no. My parents died of yellow fever, and we went to live with my grandparents.”
“Did they live in Texas too?”
She sniffled, then sneezed. “Sorry—the hay …” She turned her head toward him, eyes open now, but she was close enough that he couldn’t really meet her gaze without having to close the eye closest to her.
He squinted at her and offered a smile. “You okay?”
She gulped a breath. “Trying. Keep talking.”
“So are your grandparents in Texas?”
She shook her head. “They lived in Germany. Near a village named Oberstdorf.” She shifted again, clearly uncomfortable.
“My mother was Catholic, father was Jewish. His family is from Munich. My grandparents opposed their marriage, so they ran away to America together. All of the rest of my family is still in Germany.”
He did his best not to react physically.
She’s German?
He didn’t want to make any assumptions of her loyalties—during the war, afterward, or now—but the thought was an unsettling one. He chose a slightly safer question instead. “So are you Catholic or Jewish?”
“Catholic,” she said in a quiet voice. Her shaking had settled. “I know what you’re thinking—”
“Oh, do you?” He wasn’t even sure he knew what he was thinking.
She nodded. “You’re wondering if I’m a Nazi, aren’t you?
” She gave him a bitter smile. “Well, I’m not.
I’m expat now. Theo, Felix, and I were all part of a traveling theater troupe, and we were out of the country when the Nazis took over after the election last March.
Our show was considered too political—they made it clear we couldn’t go back. ”
Whatever relief that brought to him was quickly overshadowed by the unsettling realization that what Ruby had been hiding all along wasn’t just a seedy criminal past. Oh no.
He remembered her words when they’d escaped Theo in Lydda station, the dots suddenly connecting for him. “I haven’t forgotten why I’m doing all this—have you?” she’d said.
He cleared his throat. “And your family?”
Ruby sighed, and for a moment only the sound of the rocks tumbling beneath the lorry’s tires filled the space.
“Visas are hard to get right now. Emigration is getting harder, especially for the Jewish side of my family. They’re trying to go to Palestine.
There’s a man we met—he specializes in smuggling people out, but the cost keeps going up and we have a big family. ”
As the puzzle pieces fell into place, Jack’s throat tightened.
Of course. That’s why she’s here. Every stolen pound, every lie—all to buy freedom for people waiting on the other side.
Guilt pressed down on his chest, cold and heavy. He’d leaned on that desperation. Driven her to do this. No denying it now.
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”
“Not sure if I can help that, Ruby.”
“I chose this. Maybe there were better ways. Less morally depraved. But money isn’t the easiest to come by when people only look at you as a pretty face and your only talent is pretending to be someone you’re not.”
“I don’t know—I hear some of those Hollywood girls do pretty well.”
She chuckled bitterly. “They don’t have a deadline hanging over their head.
I’m terrified something horrible is coming, and I’ve not only got to get my family out before it’s too late, I have to find a way to convince them to leave.
All without being able to go back home freely.
Why do you think I know smuggling networks so well, Jack? I wasn’t just blowing smoke, you know.”