The Assassin (Max Doerr Book 1) (18 page)

She
dangled the glass in front of him. “I took your glass, thinking it was mine.
Now come, finish this drink; be a man! Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t we
have a lot of work to do tonight?”

Raafiq
grudgingly sat up, took the glass and drank.

A
few minutes later, Raafiq lay on the bed, unconscious. Rosania went back to the
kitchen and pulled out the papers from the cupboard. They looked like bank
statements. She took out her lipstick camera and quickly took pictures of the documents
and put the papers back where they were, and then she headed back to the
bedroom.

Raafiq
was sleeping like a goat. Rosania felt an urge to kick him in the chest but
decided not to. It might have woken him up and ruined her mission. She walked
around the flat one more time and came back to the bedroom. To her, it looked
like Raafiq was not breathing.

She
became scared and called Andy. “I think I killed the guy.”

“That
stuff we gave you cannot kill anyone,” Andy said in his usual confident voice.

“But
I think he isn’t breathing.”

“Check
his pulse.”

Rosania
went back to Raafiq and felt his wrist. Indeed, his heart was beating. “I think
he’ll live,” she said into the phone. “I’ve placed the bug and have taken pictures
of his bank statements. Now send someone to take me back to the house.”

“Okay,
don’t worry. We will be there in two minutes. We’ll text you once we reach his
place. Okay?”

She
was picked up by Andy at two a.m. when most of Paris was sleeping. The car
raced through empty streets.

“Good
job, Rosania.” Andy took his hand off the steering wheel and patted her
shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

She
said nothing.

The
light inside the Arabian restaurant was dim; diners spoke in low voices. Hindi
music could be heard, but it seemed as if it was coming from a far-off place.

The
white-dressed maître d’ escorted Doerr to a corner table with two chairs. He
ordered some red wine and started taking a mental image of the people eating
their dinner. He saw a man chide his much younger wife, and the woman wiped her
tears with the corner of her
niqab
.

A
few minutes later, Rosania appeared, dressed in a long skirt that almost
touched her toes. She said something to the maître d’, and he took her to the
table where Doerr was seated. Doerr was expecting her. Lazarus had told him
that Rosania would be his partner in the operation to locate Halim. Lazarus had
told him that she was an able, intelligent and astute field officer. But Doerr
didn’t need to be told.

This
was not the first time Doerr had worked with her. Five years ago, she had been
his partner in an operation to trap and take out a Russian agent in Belgium.

She
took a seat, and a few seconds later, a white-tunic-clad waiter took Rosania’s
order of a glass of soda.

After
the waiter left, she said to Doerr, “It is nice to see you after such a long
time.”

“I’m
glad to see you, as well.” Doerr leaned forward with the glass in his hand. “How
have you been? I’ve heard a lot about your recent triumphs.”

“I’m
pretty good.” She took the napkin from the table and spread it on her lap.
“Though I haven’t heard any of your
triumphs
lately. How come?”

“I
was doing news editing.”

“Don’t
tell me the agency pays you to do that sort of work.”

“Actually,
I wasn’t with the agency for some time, and I took a job with a newspaper in
New York.”

“Really?”
Rosania said. The white-tunic-clad waiter came back with Rosania’s soda and
asked if they were ready to order dinner. Doerr and Rosania ordered their food,
and the waiter left.

“Which
newspaper did you work for?” she asked. 

“Why
don’t we talk about that another day? I see you speak English much better now.”

“I
did some work in London.”

“Good
for you. What did you do there?”

“Why
don’t we talk about it
later
?” She threw Doerr’s exact words back to him
and smiled. “Tell me about what we are about to do.”

The
waiter brought Doerr’s chicken biryani and Rosania’s goat shish kabobs and
placed them on the table. The aroma of the Middle Eastern spicy food filled the
air.

“Let’s
eat dinner first.” Doerr eyed the food. “Then we will walk and talk work.
Someone might be eavesdropping here, you never know.”

She
nodded, and they got busy with their food.

Forty
minutes later, Doerr paid for the dinner with his card and walked out of the
restaurant. Rosania followed him. They sauntered toward the taxi place, about
three hundred feet away from the restaurant. Doerr took out a cigarette, lit it,
and took a drag.

“Let’s
talk about work,” Doerr said. “We got a lead on one of Halim’s right-hand men.
His name is Ahmad. He goes to a bar that we have marked up. Now you will go
there and entice him to a hotel. And don’t forget to put on a man’s dress
before you go in.”

“How
did you get the lead? Did someone provide that to you?”

“No.”
Doerr glanced at her. “I had to do some work to get it.”

“What
did you do exactly?”

“How
shall I say – I spent nights without sleep, and I had to visit some corners of
this city that many of its inhabitants have never visited. I spoke to over a hundred
people. Made false promises to many of them, spent three hundred thousand
dollars of American taxpayers’ money, bribing officials, and I got the name of
this man – Ahmad. I got many other names, but I think this is our guy. We have
to be extremely careful since he is our only solid lead to Halim right now.”

“Why
don’t we get Kassem to apprehend this Ahmad guy?” Rosania asked. “Once he is
caught, we go in and ask all our questions.”

“Well,
there are some problems with that. This Kassem guy may be good on certain
things, but he’s pretty much a paranoid son-of-a-bitch. You should see what he
has done to some of the people he has in jail, without a charge or evidence.
Two of the prisoners will die soon if they are not taken to the hospital. One
man is almost paralyzed. When you do that, you get lies from them, not truth.
And the other thing is if Kassem picks up Ahmad, with Halim’s money and reach,
Ahmad might flee and simply vanish.” Doerr looked straight into Rosania’s eyes.
“Some stuff we just have to do ourselves.”

Rosania
nodded. “So where is this bar?”

“I
will mail you the details in a secure email. But you don’t really need to know
right now. You will be escorted there.”

“And
what should I tell this man, Ahmad, when I meet him?”

“Tell
him that you are an American on a business trip. Show him your beautiful side,
and tell him how lonely you feel in the hotel and how you wished that you had a
man to sleep with. I’m sure he will follow you like a squirrel looking for
nuts. Many men here think a lonely American woman would fuck anyone.” 

“I’m
not going to sleep with some old Arab dude,” Rosania said emphatically and
angrily kicked a piece of stone as her face became red. “I’m not going to sleep
with anyone, end of story.”

“When
did I say you have to sleep with him? You don’t have to unless you want to. All
you have to do is bring him to the safe house, and I will take over from
there.”

“Bring
him to the safe house? How am I going to do that? If he is Halim’s right-hand
man, then he is no dumbo, I think.”

“Correct,
that’s why we brought
you
in this project. If you can’t get him in the
safe house, then bring him to a hotel room. And we can work with that.”

Doerr
and Rosania were near the taxi stand; six men and two women stood in a line,
waiting for cabs to show up. Rosania said, “One last thing. I don’t think I
should introduce myself as an American. Ahmad might recognize that I’m not, and
it might break my cover. I will introduce myself as an Italian woman.”

“Don’t
worry. Those men sometimes cannot tell the difference between a goat and a
woman, let alone an American woman from an Italian one.”

“Okay.
Got it. I will get him to a room, and then what are you going to do to him?”

“I’m
going to ask him a few questions. Before that, we need to administer a truth
serum to that bastard. I don’t think he will talk without some
help
.”

“We
are going to use that sodium pentothal stuff?”

“No,”
Doerr said. “We have an advanced version. When the car comes to pick you up,
there will be someone who will show you how to use it.”

Rosania
turned to Doerr after a few moments of silence. “Is it true that an American
woman will fuck anyone when they are lonely?”

“What
do you think?”

“I’m
not sure. You tell me.”

A
cab stopped at the top of the line; another passenger was already inside. The
first man in the queue got inside. Doerr tried to see the person who was inside
the vehicle already. He looked like a Western man. Doerr took a step toward the
cab and noticed the man inside looked like Samuel.

“Hey!”
Doerr screamed and rushed to the cab. But the cab started moving and then sped
away.

Doerr
felt a pang in his chest. The pain, which had subsided to some degree during
the last few days, came rushing back. Billy’s dead face flashed in his brain.

“Who
was that?” Rosania asked.

“I
thought it was someone I used to know. But I can’t be sure.”

“Wow.
You have friends here in Dubai, too?”

“No.
He lives in America,” Doerr said. “And he is not a friend. Far from it.”

When
I see him, and I will, I will kill him
, Doerr thought.
The son-of-a-bitch deserves to be killed, and the world will be a better
place without him.

Doerr
was in Dubai doing this and that, tracking this guy or that guy, just so that
he could use the CIA’s resources to go after Samuel and take him down. Going
after him alone, which he had considered, would be like looking for a needle in
a haystack.    

HALIM
WAS EXPECTING Faizan in the conference room of his favorite hotel in Dubai.
Halim did not want anyone else to be present. The windows were closed and the
blinds drawn; the only source of light in the room was cast from the dim
ceiling light at the center of the room.

He
was ready to give the big news to Faizan. Everything had fallen into place: all
the paperwork was complete, all accomplices had been alerted, dates
communicated, and all arrangements had been made, including the hundred
thousand dollars cash he had withdrawn the day before, which now sat inside the
black briefcase placed before him on the shiny wooden table.

Halim
waited in the room, wondering if he had indeed chosen the right man for this
operation. An operation, if executed as per the plan, that would shock the Western
world, make all Muslim brothers proud, and the rest of the world cringe with
fear for their lives and prospects.

Halim
looked at the door and then at the briefcase, wondering why Faizan was so late.
He checked his watch; it was time for a prayer.

He
rose from the table and then knelt down on the floor and started the ritual
with his eyes closed.

After
ten minutes, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He saw Faizan sitting
next to him, his eyes shut.

Faizan
drew his palms to his chest, eyes still closed but lips moving, obviously saying
his prayer silently.

Faizan
finally opened his eyes; Halim was looking at him with a smile on his lips.

“What
did you pray for?” Halim asked.

“I
prayed to Allah to give me enough strength so that I can go to the infidel
country and teach them a lesson they will never forget.”

“My
son,” Halim said, “Allah has already given you that. The Almighty will reward
you very soon. Now, come and sit here, and tell me why you were late.” He
pointed to the chair across the table and sat back on his chair.

Faizan
sat down. “It was my cab driver’s fault. He took the wrong route and delayed
me. I broke his jaw and plucked his teeth. I have his teeth right here.” He
opened his palm and showed Halim the pair of broken teeth he was holding.

Halim
looked at Faizan affectionately, and whatever doubt he had about the young man
was gone. He was sure that he had chosen the right man. Faizan was a brilliant
student, a quick learner, strong and well built, revengeful, dedicated to the
cause, and most importantly, now he was not afraid to die. The mullahs had done
a good job on Faizan.

“I
have everything right here,” Halim said as he rested his left arm on the chair arm
and lifted his right hand to touch his chin. His beard glistened, and his lips
were pursed. With a click, Halim opened the briefcase. On one side were the
bundles of twenty and hundred-dollar bills, in the middle a stack of papers, a few
maps, two pens, a passport and two books.

“Let’s
go through the plan, in detail, one more time,” Halim said and patted the
dollar bills. “Tomorrow you will be flying to Mexico City.”

HALIM
STOOD IN front of the window of his Dubai hotel room. He felt satisfied that
his dream of striking the great Satan inside America was about to happen. He
had confidence in Faizan and faith in all the folks who would be helping Faizan
in the big operation.

His
cell phone rang, and he checked the caller ID. It was one of his guys from
Paris.

“Hello,”
Halim answered.

“I
am afraid I have some bad news, boss.”

“What
happened?”

“Raafiq.”
The man paused.

“What?
What happened to Raafiq?” Halim asked anxiously.

“Boss,
Raafiq has been picked up by the French police. And they have locked him up.”

“What?
Haven’t you talked to a lawyer?”

“Yes,
boss. We contacted three lawyers. All of them said it does not look good for
Raafiq. Police found more than a kilo of cocaine and seven high-value stolen
paintings in his flat. Raafiq is looking at five to ten years in jail.”

Halim
sighed. “Can’t we bribe the jailor and get him out of there?”

“Yes,
we have already talked to the jailor through someone. He is asking for a million
euros. We offered a quarter mil, then increased the offer to half a mil. But
the jailor is standing his ground on a million euros. He says he will have to
get his entire family out of the country after this.”

“You
are negotiating on my brother’s freedom? You asshole.”