Fortunes Obsession (28 page)

     The young doctor spoke to Dara.  " You seem to have been cuffed around quite a bit but nothing is broken and no stitches were required.  There was a great deal of blood in and around your mouth but we found no cuts in the area.  Truthfully, we can’t figure it out."

Dara said nothing.  She thought that a graphic description of how the blood got in her mouth was not propitious at the moment.  The doctor informed her that she would be discharged.

" There's one problem.  I don't have any clothing."  The doctor smiled. Dara thought the smile was lascivious.  So he knew the story after all.  " Don't worry", he said, " We've fixed you up with a nurses uniform.  It will be on your bill. She shook her head and smiled as the doctor left the room.  A few minutes later, a nurse walked in with white panty hose and a starched white uniform.  She pulled on the hose and put on the uniform. She wished they had given her a bra.  The starched top was irritating her already mauled breasts.  As soon as the discharge was taken care of , she was taken to a waiting room where she waited for Peter to come out of the operation.  She thought of what they had originally planned for Sunday morning.   A jog in the park, a shower together, along with its wonderful aftermath, followed by a sumptuous breakfast and a morning in bed , reading the papers and doing the Times crossword.  How things had changed.  She was sitting in a hospital waiting room, her face a mass of purple bruises, her hair stringy and askew, waiting for Peter to have a bullet removed from his shoulder.  She felt a great sense of guilt for her petulant act of coming to New York from her mothers'.  If she had done what she was told, this never would have happened.  She hoped her name didn't appear in the papers or on television.  The whole thing was mortifying.  She laughed at herself.  She had barely escaped with her life and Peter had almost been killed and here she was worrying about her ego. The life she had previously led was like a bad penny.  Things kept happening to remind her and bring it back.  She thought again, as she sat there waiting, of her days with Ibrahim Fahd.  She knew she had been nothing but a high class whore and what an oxymoron that was!  The time in the waiting room seemed endless and she drifted off to sleep.

                   **************************************************

Fahd sat back in his taxicab.  Yes, life would be just fine in Brazil.  Years ago, he had been heavily involved in some shady business in Mozambique and had creditably mastered the Portuguese language.  He had connections there and would find lodgings quickly and establish a new life.

He decided not to send for Sarita immediately.  He thought of the luscious Brazilian beauties in their string bikinis and thought that it might be time for a change.  When the cab pulled up to the International terminal at Kennedy, he was in a state of great elation.  As he stepped up to the counter, there was a tap on his shoulder.  Suddenly, he was being read his rights and handcuffs were place in his wrists, which were roughly put behind his back. A tremor of fear ran through him.  He was the man who would never be caught.  He was the smartest international criminal there ever was.

He couldn't believe it.

     Suddenly, he found himself in a holding cell in the Federal Building and wondered why he had not been allowed to make the one phone call he knew he was entitled to. There were few signs of human life around.  After all, this seemed not to be a prison, but some sort of police station.

It was  Saturday , after all, and he knew that not many people would be working. Would they leave him here until Monday, with no food, no water and no phone call?  He sat down on the bench.  He was dressed in his usual impeccable fashion.  He wore a grey suit, with white pin stripes and a red tie over his white on white shirt.  His black shoes were polished to a mirror like shine.  He looked nothing like the garden variety jailbird.

     The agents sat in an outer office, drinking coffee, hastily made on the office machine and waited for the Agent in Charge to arrive.  They knew that their prisoner was entitled to a phone call but decided to wait for the boss to make those kind of decisions.  They had done their job.

They were specifically told not to arrest Fahd , unless he was attempting to leave the country.

They sat around discussing the arrest, wondering if they should have let him buy the ticket first , before arresting him.  They decided it didn't make any difference and were satisfied that they had

" Covered their asses", sufficiently and would be commended for their good work.

     Greg Millard cursed his lousy luck for having to come in on a Sunday morning. The Egyptian had been arrested the afternoon before and Millard decided to make the bastard sweat and wait until Sunday morning.  He knew that their case against the man was weak at best and tried to plan his strategy.  There were many indications that he was involved in a crime.  However, no crime had been actually committed.  He had passed on some kind of documents but whether they were classified or not, no one knew.  He had a vague connection to the dead kidnapper and his chauffeur had long ago confessed to shady dealings between Fahd and  alleged terrorists but the details were extremely hazy.  He wanted to talk to the man before his attorney arrived, so they had stretched it a bit by not allowing his phone call under the flimsy excuse that the man in charge had to be contacted.  The U.S.  attorney would  probably have a fit when he added up all of the no no'sthey had committed.  The best attack, he thought was to tell the Egyptian that the kidnapper,now known to be Ali Bokaar, a notorious Libyan terrorist, had confessed before he died. Possibly, Fahd would be bluffed into confessing himself.  Millard pulled into the parking garage and hoped that Yamashita and Clark had arrived.  They would question Fahd for about an hour and then allow him to call his attorney. They would videotape everything but not have him sign anything without his attorney present.

     Yamashita and Clark were waiting for him when he got there.  Fahd had been brought both dinner and breakfast by the agents that were guarding him and the two of them, bleary eyed and rumpled were relieved by the two fresh agents.

     Millard shook Yamashita's hand. " Nice work Larry.  Too bad we couldn't get him alive."

" That pisses me off no end." Yamashita said. " I don't know why the sniper had to go for the

heart". He could have gone for a leg shot."

     Millard laughed. " Sure , Larry and as he's going down he kills the girl. No, my boy, I think he made the right decision.  You know those guys train for just those situations.  They have to make their decision in a split second.  Sometimes, the kidnapper has the victim in his grasp and they have to make the decision as to whether to go for a head shot or let the perpetrator get away.

They don't have an easy job.  Most of them burn out fairly young.  You have to be half a psycho to do that job anyway.  I'm glad I don't have to do it."

     Yamashita nodded his head. " I guess you're right, Greg. Who am I to talk anyway. I'm the worst shot in the Bureau."

    Clark opened his briefcase. " I've got everything here those amateur sleuths got out of his computer.  There's a lot of incriminating stuff in here."

     Millard grimaced. " I don't want to hear those guys and their search mentioned again. Don't forget we did our own search of his office.  Any incriminating stuff was found then. Understand?

Anything those amateurs got was an illegal search and we'll  get our asses handed to us in court.

Those guys didn't do a bad job though."

     Clark shook his head. " If we get to court with this one, it'll be a miracle.  I have the feeling that this son of a bitch is going to walk."

    Millard took a long drink of the hot, strong coffee and a drag on his cigarette. " Let's do the best we can guys. Huh?"

     The three walked to Fahd's cell, each loaded for bear. They were tired , angry and their weekend had been ruined.  Their wives were totally pissed off and each had received a great deal of grief at home.  When they reached the cell, Fahd looked as well groomed as he had been

when he was brought in.   The cell, which was really a secure ordinary room with a sink and access to a toilet, was less Spartan than an ordinary prison cell and Fahd was able to keep himself clean and well groomed.  His only problem was boredom and he used the time available to think of his strategies.  He had no idea what they had on him, so he would move very cautiously.  The three agents sat down on folding chairs while Fahd sat on the cot.

     " Gentlemen, this is an outrage.  I have not been allowed to call my attorney and have not even been told what I am charged with.  I know my rights and I demand to be released immediately.  I am a reputable businessman and.........."

     Millard cut him off in mid sentence.  " Now you listen to us Mr. Fahd, or whatever your name really is.  Rest assured that we have you dead to rights.  Your associate, Mr. Bokaar was killed in a gunfight but before he died, he confessed to all of his dealings with you.  The way I see it, we have you on kidnaping, accessory to sexual assault and last but not least, sedition.  I figure we could put you away for fifty years."

     The Egyptian broke into a cold sweat and trembled slightly.  If body language was admissible in court, he would be convicted in a minute.

     " I am innocent.  I was in a silk deal with this man.  If he attacked the girl and tried to kidnap her , it was without my knowledge."

     Millard flushed with anger.  " Listen to me.  We also have testimony from your chauffeur that is on tape and signed.  You told him to dump the girl in New Jersey.  Now if you want to save your miserable ass, I would suggest you start cooperating.  And by the way, if youwant your lawyer right now, you can call him but I suggest that instead, you sign this piece of paper, waiving your right to an attorney to be present at your confession.  If you do that, we are ready to deal."

     Fahd sensed that he was in bad trouble.  It was obvious, however, that they thought he knew more than he knew.  They probably, at this time, knew as much as he did.  He had no idea where the conspirators were holed up or exactly what they had in mind.

     He took a handkerchief from his pocket and meticulously mopped his brow.

"  Do you mind if I wash my face, gentlemen?"

     " Go ahead," said Millard crossly.  " And hurry up."

     Fahd signed the waiver and proceeded to tell them all that he knew.  He left out certain things that might incriminate himself.  "  I have saved the best for last gentlemen.  I can give you the name of the astronaut that gave me the papers.  His name is Farley Collins."

     " We know that already, Fahd.  What have you got that's going to help us?"

     Fahd then proceeded to give the names of Bey and Mahdi.  They already had Bey's name from the files in Fahd's office and had surveillance on his house in Dearborn.

Mahdi was a new name and Clark left the room to run it by Interpol.

     Millard grimaced.  " I hope you've got something else, mister, because you have given us shit.  We're not dealing until you give us something good."

     Fahd's tone was pleading.  " If I had more, I would give it to you.  I don't know where they are.  I only know that they are going to do something at Cape Canaveral.  You must believe me.  I want to cooperate with you.........please."

     " Negative, Mr. Fahd.  No deal without good information. “ He turned to Yamashita

     " Take him outside and let him call his lawyer.  Then call the Marshall's office and have him taken to a real cell.  Book him officially and we'll go for an arraignment as soon as possible."

     Fahd looked desperate as he was led from the room.  His shoulders slumped visibly

 and even his meticulous clothing seemed to sag.

                         *******************************************

          Ed Romero, rang the bell on the solid wrought iron gate.  He was happy that he finally had a warrant and no longer had to lie in the weeds and suffer the frustration of watching the beautiful, naked Sarita.  A loudspeaker asked his business in Spanish.  He answered that he was from the Federal Bureau of Investigation and one of the maids said she would come to the gate.  He had expected to be buzzed in but thought that the girl was doing the right thing  checking his identification.  One of the maids appeared.  He had last seen her massaging Fahd's naked body while the beautiful girl watched in delight.  The maid was short, stocky and muscular and he could see why the girl would not consider her a threat.  She inspected Romero's identification carefully and let him in.

     Sarita Bonda was sitting on a white leather couch in the largest living room he had ever seen.  The room had a picture window that overlooked the swimming pool and through the trees beyond it, had a view of the sea far below.  She wore a white terry cloth robe and he could see that she was probably naked underneath it.  He could easily mentally undress her, since he had seen her in that state many times.  The robe and the white thongs she wore on her feet, offset the mahogany color of her body beautifully.  He found his thoughts

wandering away from what he came for.  Finally, after feeling embarrassed by his own staring, he composed himself.

     " Ms. Bonda, my name is Eduardo Romero and I am an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  Let me tell you that you are not under arrest at this time but that we have arrested Mr. Ibrahim Fahd on charges of kidnaping, accessory to sexual assault and sedition."