Lawrence had weathered the years in good form, Bar-EI thought.
The red hair was lightly streaked with gray, but the bright blue eyes and dazzling white smile seemed to erase ten or more of the aviator's 54 years. They sat and talked cautiously at first, feeling out one anothers' attitudes.
At length Lawrence motioned outside and suggested they sit by the fence in the evening's low sun. The Israeli leaned his back against the rails, easing the load on his bad leg. He noticed some llamas and horses in the pasture, but paid them scant attention.
Lawrence was describing his pilot training philosophy when Bar-El let out a shout. It was more of surprise than pain. Lawrence saw the cause and laughed aloud, in spite of himself. When Bar-El turned, he was eyeball to eyeball with a magnificent stud llama. The animal had curiously stuck his nose in the back of Bar-EI's neck.
"He's just mooching," Lawrence explained. "Wants to see if you have anything to eat." He waved his orange ballcap at the black-and-white animal, who raised its head and gurgled. "Damn it, Rambo, get away. You're the biggest chowhound in three states."
Distracted, Bar-El took in the livestock again. "You make a living with these creatures, Mr. Lawrence?"
The aviator shrugged and laughed. "Yeah, pretty good. Rambo here would go for about forty thousand dollars if we wanted to sell him. But he's like an overgrown pet. Llamas seem to go with Arabian horses and Nancy likes to ride. I prefer the llamas myself, but I enjoy the horses, too." He looked around. "That one over there"-he pointed to a dappled gray-and-white mare-"is our prize breeder. Aren't you, Inshallah?" He whistled and the animal pricked up her ears.
Bar-El turned to Lawrence. "Her name is Inshallah?"
"Sure, it's Arabic. But then you know all about that, I suppose." Bar-EI thought to himself, Life is strange. A former mercenary enemy of my country entertains me with his Arabian horses and South American pack animals. Who would believe it?
At length Lawrence asked the question which had been on his mind through all the intervening years. Bar-EI had anticipated it, and he was ready.
Emphasizing that he could not reveal sources, the Israeli said, "We learned a few months after Claudia Meyers's death that the operation was planned by the Iranians, who hired another party to contract the Lebanese mercenaries. Apparently Tehran was concerned about possible hostilities with the Saudis and wanted to eliminate the head of Tiger Force."
"I'll be damned. To tell you the truth, John and I figured it was you people or the South Yemenis."
"Mr. Lawrence, I would have to deny I ever said this. But we knew that you and the Saudi government also were concerned about Iran." Bar-El's mouth tightened in an ironic smile. "I can tell you now that your name also was on Tehran's list but you kept so busy flying that they never had an opportunity to get you."
The expression on the redhead's face told Bar-EI that the American knew the report was accurate.
Finally Lawrence asked about any surviving Israeli fighter pilots from the air battles over Arabia and Jordan. He said that he would like to buy some of them whatever they drank.
Bar-EI said, "Well, I cannot mention any names but you might contact the office of our air attache in Washington. I believe he could investigate." In fact, the current attache was a lieutenant colonel who had been shot down by an F-20 and was rescued by helicopter after the Ha'il strike. "I also know of two others who might be willing to meet you. Both are retired colonels. One was base commander at Balhama during the war. The other is partially paralyzed from back injuries sustained in ejecting from his F-15. They are both fine men-real warriors." Bar-El was tempted to mention their names. Instead, he added, ''The attache would put you in touch with them if he is permitted to do so."
Lawrence had one last question. "What about the two losses during the nuclear strikes? What happened?"
Bar-El was cautious. He had been cleared to write an unusually detailed account of some aspects of the war, but he did not wish to offend his host's sensibilities. Still, he decided to reveal more than he had planned to.
"A Phantom was shot down en route to its target in Syria. Evidently there was an antiaircraft battery which unexpectedly showed up along the flight path. We don't know what happened to the weapon, as far as I am aware. I guess the Soviet advisers probably got it." He paused, pondering the likely options. "We don't think they would have wanted the Syrians to obtain fissionable material."
"Okay. What about the other?"
Bar-El shrugged. "That one is still a mystery. Probably it always will be. It never rejoined its fighter escorts after reaching its target." He decided not to mention the target. "We estimate it was shot down during its egress, but the unit responsible must have been wiped out in the aftermath of the attack. We know of no claims submitted for destruction of a Kfir that night."
Few Tiger Force pilots came to prominence following the war. Most shunned publicity and others preferred to do their talking at reunions.
The most famous veteran of Tiger Force may be seen in the Royal Saudi Air Force Museum six days a week. Mounted on an elevated platform in the rotunda is an F-20B. It forms the centerpiece for the area and is the first exhibit one sees upon entering the museum.
The paint is faded on 00I from exposure to the desert sun and its markings are not as bright as they once were. But visitors walking past the sleek Northrop may count the victory stars painted on the fuselage-one for each kill by Tiger Force. And some pause to read the name on the canopy rail, testimony of a king's promise to a warrior.