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He stands up from the desk he’s been using in this windowless office. On the other side of the door are four of his associates, waiting for one last briefing. He’d been planning to use this call to taunt and upset Jeremy a final time.
Not this.
“Who the hell are you to say such a thing?” Rashad asks.
The woman laughs again. “Amy Cornwall, former U.S. Army, now an intelligence officer for the United States. How’s New York been treating you? Getting in the sights? Check out Times Square if you can…not many strip clubs left, but a loser like you could probably find one. I mean, that’s the only place you can get up close and personal with a naked woman, am I right?”
He swears at the woman for a long minute and—damn it—she laughs at him again!
“Oh, Rashad, come on, is that the best you can do?” she says when he pauses. “Didn’t you hear what I said earlier, or do you have desert sand clogging your hairy ears? I served in the United States Army. I heard better swear words from recruits who were so young they couldn’t shave. Jeremy and I know all about you, Rashad. We know how your dad hated you. How you’ve never married. I’ve even talked to your three half-sisters. They all said the same thing: you cried at night and wet the bed, even when you were a teen boy.”
“I did not!”he shouts, ashamed that he’s losing his temper.
“Rashad…come on, deep down, you know what’s going on, don’t you?” her calm voice says. “You hated Daddy growing up, when he had your balls in his back pocket, and you killed him. And with him dead, you thought you could start getting an erection on a regular basis. But even with all your money, you couldn’t even do that. Failure, start to finish. Even your precious organization is riddled with informants. Trains, I mean…trains?What are you, still ten years old?”
“Failure!” he says, then easing his voice. “You whore, I’m going to stand on top of my wealth and kill thousands of you. Do you hear me? Thousands. And there’s nothing you or Jeremy can do. Nothing.”
His breathing has quickened. He can’t believe how angry this woman has made him.
“Rashad?” she asks. “Still there?”
“I am, you bitch. I am going to find you and kill you and your family and—”
“Hey, Rashad, nice talking to you, but I’ve got something more important to do: I’ve got to go change out my tampon…and then Jeremy and I are coming after your sorry ass. Later.”
The American woman disconnects the call.
Rashad throws the phone on the floor.
Throws open the door.
Stalks right out.
In the dim light, crates and packages stretch into the darkness. Before him, sitting around a round table with paperwork and maps, are his four men: Mike Patel, Marcel Koussa, and two train conductors working for the Hudson Valley Railroad (which he secretly owns): Miguel Marcos, from the Abu Sayyaf group in the Philippines, and Alvi Dudin, from the Special Purpose Islamic Regiment of Chechnya.
All four of them are looking at him with a mixture of respect, fear, and curiosity about what just happened in that small office.
Rashad nods to them, goes over to the table, and removes a 9mm SIG Sauer pistol from his coat pocket. Then he grabs Marcel’s hair and tugs his head back.
Marcel starts to talk, but an enraged Rashad sticks the pistol barrel into Marcel’s mouth and blows his brains out with one quick snap of his finger.
Marcel’s body slumps to the floor.
The three other men stare at him.
Rashad’s anger turns inward. Damn that woman! He had planned to take away Marcel and spend long delicious hours with him, finding out how deep his betrayal had gone and how much he had passed along to British intelligence. But his anger took hold instead.
Marcel is dead. A loss, but still, he wasn’t a friend. He was just a worker, to be dismissed—or eliminated—when necessary.
Rashad takes a deep breath.
Replaces the pistol in his coat pocket.
It won’t do for these three others—who will help him bring down an empire tomorrow—to see him unsettled, unsure, filled with doubt or fear.
He smiles at his brave trio.
“That man was a traitor,” Rashad says. “We will not speak of him again. We have much more to discuss about tomorrow’s blessed day.”
