Chapter 25Iraqi Border“Now we’re in trouble,” I said to Leah, in a
hushed voice. “When they open those crates they’ll think we’re
smugglers.”
Fastened on to the bull camel, the artefacts, carefully
wrapped and stored in stout wooden boxes, would provide enough evidence to
convict us of theft as well as illegal entry. Suddenly, I had visions of
rotting in some unspeakable Iraqi jail. And what would happen to Leah? If
she protested our British citizenship, we could be dealt with as spies. The
penalty could be even worse.
My appearance had changed along with my temperament; I
had become a Bedu. It would be of little value appealing to the Americans
that they were holding a Brit and should release him immediately. At the
moment, I looked nothing like the photo in my passport.
I wa
