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David was sure that somewhere, in some very thick medical reference book, there was a term that described Omar’s personality, but he had yet to take the time to sit down and look it up. Ignoring his obsession with his brother the crown prince, David repeated his question. “How can you be so sure it will pass tomorrow?”
“My brother, the weak fool, has been given assurances by all of the permanent members that they will vote in favor of the resolution.”
“Even the United States.”
“They have not given their word yet, but they have no choice. As we discussed I convinced my brother that now was the time for the threat of an all-out embargo.” Omar smiled and said, “After you killed Abdul, the president asked my brother if there was anything he could do and my brother told him to vote for the French resolution.” Omar began laughing so hard he actually began to shake. After he’d calmed a bit he added, “They are all such idiots.”
All David could think to do was nod and smile.
When the tape was finally rewound, Omar hit PLAY and said, “You will not believe this. A film crew showed up just minutes after the explosion.”
David watched as the screen went from black to black-and-gray and then finally a shot of people running down a sidewalk. In the distance was a cloud of smoke. Most of the people were running away from the smoke but the cameraman and several other people were running toward it. David began to feel himself sweat. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He had no desire to watch this, but he could feel Omar’s eyes on him.
Suddenly there were people on the ground. The camera stopped at each one for a few seconds cataloging the tragedy and then the reporter began shouting instructions. The lens came up and the horizon was filled with smoke and the twisted burning wreckage of cars. David looked away and found Omar standing only a few feet away, watching him.
“You don’t like this?” he asked with a gleam in his eye.
David managed to keep his voice calm. “I know what I did. I do not need to watch it.”
“Oh, but you do.” Omar walked closer to the TV. With one hand he gestured toward David and with the other toward the large screen. “This is your work. This is what you have accomplished … you should be proud of it.”
Omar was smiling widely now and it occurred to David that he was probably taping this for his voyeuristic collection. “I am proud of what I did,” David lied. He was proud of what he did in Jordan, he was proud of what he did with the attaché cases in Hebron, and he was even proud of what he did in New York, but this carnage that he was watching on TV, he was not proud of.
“Tell me,” said Omar excitedly. “Do you think my cousin survived the initial blast?” The screen was now filled with images of a breached and burning limousine. “I hope he did, that American-loving bastard. Look closely, I think that is someone’s leg!” Omar paused the tape and looked at his assassin for an answer.
David shook his head. He’d had enough. “My prince, I’m sorry, but I have no desire to watch this.”
It took David only a split second to realize something was wrong, but by then it was too late. Omar was still smiling at him and watching him closely when suddenly he looked just beyond David and gave a signal. Before David could react something was around his neck and he was yanked backward. His hands immediately shot up, and his fingers desperately tried to get under the rope that was choking him. Omar was suddenly before him.
“I have enjoyed corrupting you.” His gloating face was only several feet away. “Your intentions were so pure, and look at the great destruction you’ve caused.” Omar turned and pointed to the TV.
David gave up on trying to get his fingers under the rope and reached back for Chung’s head. He found a fistful of hair with one hand and began searching for an eye with the other.
Omar enjoyed the struggle. “You should have known better than to trust me…. You of all people.” Omar shook his head like he was admonishing a child. “You always preached to me about security. You were the one who told me not to talk to anyone about our plans.” The smile suddenly vanished from Omar’s face and he leaned in close. “And you always kept asking for more money!”
David couldn’t get ahold of an eye. Chung was too strong. He began to realize that this was a fight he would not win. Specks of light started to appear on the periphery of his vision and his lungs began to ache. Suddenly Omar was very close to him saying something that he didn’t bother to try to understand. His brain was too preoccupied with finding more oxygen. He could feel himself slipping away and his thoughts turned to the memories of his youth. To Jerusalem, and to his family. As his body began to relax into death he was comforted by the vision of his mother caring for the sick.
Rapp slowly removed his headphones and tossed them on the bed. He didn’t leave the window at first. He just stood there like a hawk perched on a tall branch, looking down at the large white vessel. Some stubborn sense of fairness in him did not like what had just transpired, but there wasn’t much he could have done about it. He tried his best to not let it bother him, but it did, and he could tell it bothered the other people in the room too. No one spoke for at least a minute.
Finally, Rapp turned to the others and said, “Pack everything up. I want to be out of here in fifteen minutes.”
The team of technicians were already at work. One of them was in the process of sending the encrypted audio back to Langley, while a second had begun packing the equipment. The third had hacked into the hotel’s network and was placing a worm to erase all security footage from the time they’d arrived until thirty minutes from now.
Before leaving, Rapp looked back out at the harbor one more time; at Omar’s massive yacht and the limousine that was still parked at the entrance to the pier. The president would get all the evidence he needed and then some. Rapp had killed many times and could honestly say he’d never enjoyed it, or at the very least he’d never relished it. Yes, there’d been times where he’d felt just satisfaction in killing someone who deserved it, but that was about the extent of it.
Pensively, he turned away from the window with the expression of a man who was lost in thought. He put on his suit coat over his holstered 9mm Beretta and started fo
r the door. He paused on the threshold and looked back at the three analysts. “Good job, I’ll see you at the plane.”
Rapp walked past the elevators to the stairs and started down. Raising his digitally encrypted radio to his mouth he said, “Scott, I’m coming down. Meet me by the east entrance of the hotel with the car.”
76
Omar was in a hurry to join in the revelry. He’d kicked everyone off the yacht so he could have his private meeting with David and with that little piece of business taken care of he was ready to enjoy the evening. His cousins had gone ahead to the Casino Club to try to procure some women for the trip to St. Tropez in the morning. He would much prefer it if they could find some young aspiring actress to join them, rather than the usual whores they had to pay for. The young ones were so much fun to corrupt.
Omar had lent large amounts of money to Italian, French and American producers over the years and the walls of the ship’s upper gallery were adorned with autographed headshots of the silver screen’s elite. The photos never failed to impress the naive teenagers. The size of the yacht, the opulence of the furnishings, the photographs, they overwhelmed the vulnerable young women. And if that wasn’t enough, there was a full complement of drugs that could be used either overtly or surreptitiously to melt away their inhibitions.
Omar stepped from his yacht onto the pier. It was a clear night and the fresh air of the Mediterranean felt wonderful. Killing David had livened his senses. He couldn’t wait for the rest of the evening’s entertainment. His cousins would immensely enjoy watching the tape of Chung strangling the insolent Palestinian. None of them liked him. Omar had been very fond of David at first, but his impudent attitude had worn thin. His disapproving looks and his refusal to join in the sexual merriment became increasingly intolerable. He was only a Palestinian after all, and his place in the pecking order of the Arab tribes was at the very bottom. The fact that he didn’t know his place in society and that he kept asking for more money was what had made the decision easy. Besides, Omar would sleep much easier knowing that David would not be telling or selling his secrets to the wrong party.
