Fortunes Obsession (4 page)

     He was meeting with the top leaders of a terrorist organization that had it's roots firmly planted in the United States, with branches in Detroit and New Jersey.  These organizations were planning various acts of terrorism calculated to bring America, the Great Satan, to it's knees.  He was decidedly nervous about this meeting, which would be with Ali Bokaar and two other men, whom he had not yet met.  Their names were Ishmael Bey and Faisal Mahdi.  These men were not known for their gentility or compassion. They were known far and wide as killers who enjoyed their work.  Ibrahim wondered if he should have brought Mustafa with him for protection but their orders were clear.  He was to come alone.

It was also made clear that if someone were with him, following closely, clandestinely,  they would kill them both.

     They reached LaGuardiaAirport just in time for the last evening flight to Detroit.  A first class ticket was reserved for him and picked up at the counter.  He brought enough changes of clothing for two nights, just in case.  As soon as the plane took off, he ordered a double cognac and sipped, contemplating the

newly found wealth that was waiting for him.  Afterwards, he closed his eyes and fell into a sound sleep, which lasted until the descent into Detroit.

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     The three swarthy men sat around a table in a suite on the top floor of the Airport Marriot.  The hotel was quite convenient as it was physically located inside the airport terminal building.  Ali Bokaar, who was attired in a business suit, removed his jacket and loosened his tie.  He drank vodka in a water glass filled to the brim with no ice.  The other two men drank Perrier water.  Ishmael

Bey was a slightly built man, much younger than all of the others involved.  He was handsome and wore his suit well.  It had the look of being custom made as suits often do on men of his build. His thick black hair was meticulously styled and combed and he smelled of expensive cologne.  Faisal Mahdi wore native middle eastern garb, including a brimless hat that covered his whole head.  He was also in the age group of Fahd and Bokaar, making Bey look even younger.

     Bey spoke, " So it is settled, if he has the documents with him, we take him out to dinner and then kill him and dispose of the body?"

     "Exactly", said Mahdi," He wants a million dollars for what he has.  If we can get them for nothing, the movement benefits."

     Bey looked in deep thought. "On the other hand, this man is a great source.  He is probably the most successful broker of this kind of thing we have at our disposal.  I'm having second

thoughts about killing him."

     " He won't bring the documents anyway.  He's not that stupid.

Aside from that, I want that woman of his.  I want it to be part of the deal. I want to fuck her and kill her."  Bokaar smiled his evil smile exposing his stained teeth.

     " It won't be part of the deal, we can't afford to have people like you with their brains between their legs.  You will find another way to get this woman. I know it."  Bey smiled his own satanic smile but this one with perfect teeth as white as snow.

     " Okay", said Mahdi, " If he has the papers , we kill him, if he doesn't, we offer him seven hundred fifty thousand with half up front.  We get the documents.......then we kill him."

     " Bokaar got in the last words. " And then I fuck his girl friend and then you fuck his girl friend and then you fuck his girl friend......................and then we kill HER."

     The room rang with the laughter of the three men.

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     Farley Collins sat in his living room with an outrageous hangover, staring into space.  He held the Trans- Orient Silk business card in his hand.  He decided to find the man in the park and demand to be part of whatever the plot was.  Hell, it wasn't that he wanted any money.  All he wanted was to be part of the show.

     He would sober up for a few days.  It was funny.  He never drank when there was something valid for him to do.  Drinking was never a problem when he was in the navy.  He would clean up

and get himself a haircut and dress in his best suit, so that he would look reliable.  He would go on an exercise regimen to harden his body in preparation for any tough quasi military operation. The excitement coursed through his veins and he felt as alive as he had felt in weeks.  He had the same feeling of exhilaration that came over him several weeks ago when he exchanged the documents.  He busied himself immediately.  They couldn't possibly turn him down, not with his training and experience.

     When he attended college, he was a stalwart in track and field, never a team sport.  He never ran in the relays and was on his own in competition, a situation that suited his loner personality

and lack of teamwork.  He had very few friends and no love life at all.  Farley Collins was neuter sexually.  He had no desire for physical contact with women or men.  This eccentricity gave him a reputation amongst men of being gay.  He had been approached at that time by several gay men and had responded with violence. He was very handsome and women were sometimes bold in their approach.

He rejected them, not with violence but with a derisive nastiness which sometimes reduced them to tears. His record in naval ROTC was tops in his class. He excelled in all things physical and technical and impressed his superiors to the point at which they were recruiting him as a career naval officer as if he were a high school football star being recruited by a major college program.

     Although he preferred command, there is always room in the armed services for the technically proficient who do not have leadership qualities.  He was sent to flight school and became an

excellent pilot but again, whenever teamwork or leadership was required, his personality  surfaced to haunt him again.  He knew that without a command, he would never get to be a Captain, no less an Admiral.  It was a necessity to, " Have your ticket punched", with command experience to achieve those ranks.  Men like Hyman Rickover, who achieved flag rank through his technical acumen

were rare in the armed services.  When the astronaut program chose him, he was elated.  He knew that this could be his ticket to success in the Navy.  He trained hard and achieved a knowledge of space exploration and travel that was second to none.  After several altercations with fellow astronauts, both male and female, it was determined that he would have been a wonderful astronaut at the time of John Glenn and his fellow astronauts, when men went into space alone.  The current space probes, however, involved five to seven astronauts of divergent nationalities, armed services and even sexes to co- exist in cramped quarters for large periods of time.  He was finally sent to a team of psychiatrists, who recommended to a NASA board, that Lt. Commander Collins be dropped from the program.  He was sent to a desk job in the Pentagon and finally, out of complete boredom, resigned his commission.

     When he drank, his normally quiet personality, changed to verbosity.  His drunken ramblings on were so public, that it was only a matter of time until someone else with animosity toward America would hear him and make use of his talents and hatred.

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      There is a certain sexual chemistry that occurs only occasionally between a man and a woman.  It is the love at first sight that occurs in story and song, one that is based on something even deeper than pure animal sexual attraction.  When it occurs with two people at once it's effect is devastating.

     When the elevator stopped at the thirtieth floor, Peter Fortune, six feet two inches tall, light brown hair, steel blue eyes  and near movie star good looks, age thirty eight, took one look at Dara Morgan, five feet nine inches tall, blond hair, steel blue eyes and near movie star good looks, age twenty nine and fell in love. There were five other people in the elevator but at that moment they were blurred like a photo with low depth of field, where only the subject is sharp and defined.  Her eyes met his and at that moment he had no way of knowing that she was feeling exactly the same thing.  He felt lightheaded and broke into a cold sweat.  He was aware of a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

     Dara saw the young man walk into the elevator and felt as if her knees were buckling beneath her.  Her mouth felt dry and a yearning sensation came over her without her knowledge of what it was for.  She was conscious of his eyes leaving hers for a second to look at her hands.  She realized he was checking for a wedding or engagement ring.  For all of her wild secret life, she had no idea of how to get acquainted.  She prayed that he would make the first move but she knew that before he left her sight, she would do something.

     Peter was relieved when he saw no wedding or engagement rings

on her finger.  Picking up girls in public was not his forte. Most of the women he had met in his life, he had encountered  at parties or in various offices he visited.  When it came to striking up a conversation with a stranger, he was tongue tied.  For the remainder of the descent, their eyes were fixed on each others. The look on their faces was hard to describe.  It was not the look of two people staring each other down but rather a look of adoration.

The two seemed to be floating on a cloud, detached from reality.

They could see more than each other's beauty.  They sensed an intelligence and empathy in each other that was ethereal.

     When the elevator reached the ground floor, they just stood there and only when new passengers entered for the trip upward, did they disembark.  They stepped out, neither speaking and neither moving in any direction.  Peter spoke first.

     " I....I....I mean...You'll have to excuse me.  I usually don't stare at women like that...but..but...I don't want you to go and I'm lost for words.  My name is Peter Fortune."

     Dara smiled. " I'm so glad you spoke first, I didn't want you to go either.  I'm Dara Morgan."

     She reached out to shake his hand and Peter took it in his. At that moment, he was taken someplace he'd never been before.  He was positively dizzy and weak.  They stood there for a moment, reveling

in each other's touch. She spoke first this time.

     " Do you want to go for a drink or something"?

     " Absolutely, a drink...something....anything.  Just don't go away or I'll die."

 She suggested getting into a cab and going to the Marriot Marquis, located in the theater district, a fifteen minute cab ride away.

She wanted to get as far away as possible before Fahd came down and caught her.  She also hoped that if everything went well, he would share her theater tickets with her and have dinner.

     Peter was so nervous that he almost left his attache case in the cab.  He was sorry he had taken it with him from the office. He knew now that he would never get his calculations done this evening.

     They sat down in the cocktail lounge and looked into each other's eyes as if they had been lovers for a long time.  As far as they were concerned, there was nobody else there.In fact, there was nobody else in the world.  The blood was racing so fast through their veins that alcohol was hardly necessary.  Nevertheless, they ordered drinks, she, a cognac and he, a single malt scotch.

     The ritual began. The time honored ritual of new romance.

     " So. tell me all about Dara Morgan.  I want to know everything about you."

     She had plenty of time to compose her story in the cab, which took almost forty minutes to cross town through heavy traffic.  She tried to stick as close to the truth as possible, already knowing that this was no ordinary meeting with a man.  She knew she wanted to be with him for a long time, and for the first time, regretted her life and the way she made her living.  How could she hide this from him?  She had to be clever.

     " Well, first of all, I do public relations and sales work for a silk brokerage firm on the thirty ninth floor.  My work takes me

out of town a lot, so I'm not always around the building.  I'm not going with anyone and I date occasionally.  I go to a lot of business dinners with my boss.  His name is Ibrahim Fahd and he's an Egyptian.  He's a nice person and he treats me well.  I've done very well for myself and I live nicely in an apartment building on seventy ninth and third................how about you?"

     He took both her hands in his and said. " You're going to think I’m nuts but if I’ve got to do this....now."

With that, he stood up and bent over the small cocktail table without touching her with his hands and kissed her tenderly on the lips.  If he was taken someplace he'd never been by touching her hand, he was taken someplace completely different now.  Whereever cloud nine was, he was there.  When he sat back down, she was smiling with a smile that could have lit up a dark room.

     " I'm an architect. I"m a partner in a large architectural firm. Actually, I run the place. The senior partner, who is like a surrogate father to me has been very ill and I kind of rose to the top early.  I live on the west side and I don't want to go home for a long time."

     She took the tickets out and lay them on the table. " What an opening! How'd you like to see Miss Saigon with me tonight, I just happen to have two prime orchestra seats."

     " Lady, I wouldn't care if you had tickets to Sumo wrestling. Wherever you're going, I'm going with you."