Читать книгу Maximum Reach - Adam MD Hamedi - Страница 6

Abbas lurked in the shadows for hours. He knew the neighborhood like no one else did – his father had insisted on it. Abbas could have found his way around the camp blindfold.

He listened, he watched and when he finally decided that everyone had retired, he began his slow but methodical advance towards his target, making sure no one could see him.

He had stayed with the family a couple of months now. They trusted him; he had made sure of that. He had never let them guess his true emotions. The man had even given him a key to his house, not that he needed it, but it definitely made things easier.

Abbas silently unlocked the door and slithered inside. First he headed for the boys’ room, as they would wake up first, he knew. He had studied that family in detail, like he had never studied anything before.

Abbas walked into the room and stood over the two boys. The older was seven, the younger was five. He really hated having to do what he was about to do because he genuinely liked them, but this was a different world. Though over the time he had spent with this family he had learned to feel affection towards the boys and they for him, he knew that one day they would come after him and he could not take that chance. He heard the father snoring and knew he would not be interrupted.

From behind his back, Abbas took the revolver, the silencer already attached. He looked at it, and with slightly damp eyes, aimed at his targets. One shot point blank into each boy’s head was enough. The older boy never made a sound and neither did the younger one. He then proceeded to do the hard work, and it was very hard. He took out his knife and started to sever the heads. It was not easy and it took him a lot longer than he had expected. He was wishing he had brought a larger and sharper knife. By the time he was done, he was soaked with blood, but he was wearing black clothing and it didn’t show, not that it mattered. Abbas carried the two heads in one hand by the hair and went to the other room. As he walked in, the man did not stir but the woman did and slowly started opening her eyes. He really liked the woman. She had taken care of him and pampered him. She felt sorry for him and had no idea of her husband’s involvement. Never the less, he could not let her live either. She would tell everyone, Abbas fired two shots into her head. He wanted to spare her seeing him and what was in his hand. He then slowly approached the bed and laid the heads next to the man, backed up, stood in the corner and waited.

The traitor was sound asleep but the first time he stirred, he knew something was wrong. He felt himself lying in something very sticky and wondered what it could be. He half opened his eyes and saw his son’s face looking at him.

"You should be in your own bed, son. Not enough room for all of us in here."

When the man tried to put his hand on his son’s body to move him, he came to the horrific realization that there was nothing there. His eyes opened wide, then he saw the severed head. The man leapt out of bed trying to put some distance between it and him, gasping for air, as nausea flooded through him. As he stood up, he noticed his other boy’s head. He was so horrified, he could not speak. He was frantically looking around the room when he finally saw Abbas standing there.

The man took another look at the bed and realized that his wife was also dead. He looked again at Abbas and knew.

When the traitor finally regained some of his senses, he started crying.

"Why Abbas? Why my wife and kids? They loved you."

"You should have thought of that before you decided to betray us. I saw you that day leading the Israelis towards our house. Who was it that shot my father? Was it you or the other traitor, which of my father’s friends murdered him?"

The man just stood there, silent. He knew what was coming. He knew his time was up. He took another look at his dead wife and the severed heads of his beloved sons and collapsed, all composure gone.

Abbas was never sure whether the man died of the gunshot or of a heart attack. To him it didn’t make any difference. He had to finish what he came here to do and he still had one more stop to make.

Working on the man’s head, as on his sons before, he was glad the other traitor did not have any children.

When he was done, Abbas went into the bathroom and threw up.

The mission at the next house did not take as long. He just went in, shot them both, man and wife, then severed the second man’s head.

When he was done it was still dark outside. Abbas carried the black duffel bag and hurried to the second man’s car, grabbing the keys on his way out.

He had done his homework well. Everything went according to plan. He had studied both men’s habits, knowing when they ate, when they slept, where they put things. He had watched every move they made. He wanted to make sure nothing went wrong when he did what he had to do, and nothing did.

On his drive out of the area, Abbas wondered what the people of the camp were going to think. He wondered if they would blame this on the Israelis, just like they blamed everything else on them. He was sure they would. Matter of fact, he counted on it – it was a part of his plan.

Abbas had planned his hideout. He parked the vehicle amongst the trees alongside one of the beaches, then covered it with brush and tree limbs until he was satisfied no one would notice it. It was the same beach where he had hidden that night he had eased himself out of the coffin. This time it was even safer. Then it had been spring but now it was almost winter. No one had ventured close then and he was sure no one would now. He had to wait a full day before he made his way to Beirut and on to the American Embassy the following night. He had promised the CIA agent he would contact him in a couple of days. He couldn’t help but wonder how the agent was going to react when he opened the duffel bag and saw what was inside.

Perfect, he thought to himself. They are going to be extremely glad I want to get out of here and they will help me with whatever I need.

The next night, Abbas drove to Beirut, parked the car a block away from the Embassy and waited for daylight. He made sure to keep the vehicle out of sight in case someone recognized it and informed the Palestinians. He was sure the organization would be looking for it, so he had to prevent anyone from driving away with the car and its cargo.

No one did.

"Hamilton here," Brad growled as he picked up the telephone when Abbas’ call was announced.

"Hello Mr. Hamilton. This is Abbas. Have you made a decision on what we talked about?"

"We have not heard from the Director yet Mr. Abbas, but I am sure we will soon. How can I reach you when we do?"

Abbas was not surprised at the delay. They were not sure what he could do for them. He smiled. He was sure what their answer would be the next day.

"Like I said before, Mr. Hamilton, I am on the move and you cannot contact me. I will just have to call you every day until you make a decision."

"Can I expect a call from you tomorrow then?" Hamilton asked.

"Absolutely, Mr. Hamilton. Before I go though, I have something for you."

"What is it Mr. Abbas?"

"One block east of the Embassy, there is a parked black Mercedes. It’s not locked and the keys are in the ashtray. I suggest you don’t take long before you check the trunk. The car is hot, people are looking for it and before I hang up, a word of advice, get rid of that car as soon as you retrieve the item in the trunk. You don’t want anyone to associate you or the Embassy with it."

Before Hamilton could inquire about the contents of the trunk, Abbas had hung up.

Hamilton was not sure what to expect, he was not even sure why the Director was taking his time to respond. His was not to question though; he was a very junior agent. His was to say, "Yes sir" and "no sir."

When Hamilton briefed his chief about his conversation with Abbas, the decision was made to assemble a bomb detection team and check out the car.

It was nearly an hour after the telephone conversation when the CIA team, accompanied by some Marines, emerged from the Embassy. Abbas waited and watched.

Two bomb squad team members approached the vehicle first. They had some detection equipment and went through the vehicle very thoroughly. When they could not find any trace of explosives, they gave agent Hamilton the nod.

Hamilton approached the Mercedes and opened the door cautiously, as if he were expecting it to explode. When nothing happened, he reached inside, retrieved the keys then proceeded to the trunk and opened it just as carefully.

When Hamilton started unzipping the duffel bag, several men in his team were leaning forward to get a glimpse, and when they saw what was inside, as if on cue, they all jumped back a couple of feet and several of them started throwing up. Not Hamilton though. Even though he jumped back as far as the others, he was already looking around.

He saw him. He saw Abbas but before he could give anyone any instructions, Abbas was gone.

Abbas was a little unsettled. He expected the reaction he saw but he did not expect Hamilton to immediately start looking for him. The guy is good. Abbas knew that if Hamilton were given the orders to hunt him down, he wouldn’t stand a chance. He hoped his plan would work and the director would agree to grant him his wish. He could fool the Palestinians into believing him, after all he was the son of a hero, but he knew he couldn’t fool Hamilton so easily and, with the resources available to him, he also knew that it wouldn’t take long for Hamilton to wipe him out if he became suspicious.

That day was the first time Hamilton actually talked to Barrow. Barrow was a low level executive with the CIA at the time, but everything had to go through him.

"What can you tell me about this boy?" asked Barrow.

"All I can say, sir, is we have a chance to take him out of the picture and turn him. I really think we should seize the opportunity. This boy showed us how ruthless he can be."

"What do you think the Israelis will say?" Barrow asked again. "The two men he took out were their agents."

"I know sir. I don’t think that was the reason he did this. Somehow I believe it goes beyond that. This is personal, sir. If you give me the go ahead, I shall find out, and I believe the Israelis will be glad they won’t have to deal with him. Look how long it took them to remove his father. My gut feeling is this boy is a hundred times worse than his father and a lot smarter, sir. He must have really planned this in minute detail."

"Do you think you can turn him Brad," asked Barrow, using his forename for the first time?

"I believe so, sir. If you allow me, I will keep a close eye on him and if I see that he is not doing what he is supposed to, I will drop him myself."

"OK then, Brad. You have the go ahead. Do find out for me why he did this. Why the kids too."

The next morning, Abbas was put through to Hamilton as soon as he called. He was not kept waiting.

"Good morning Mr. Hamilton," Abbas said when he heard Brad announce his name.

"Good morning Mr. Abbas. We need to talk. Where would you like to meet?"

"How about I just walk over to the Embassy and talk there?"

"You are willing to trust us?"

"I watched you yesterday after you opened the trunk to the car Mr. Hamilton. I figured if you were instructed to take me out, it wouldn’t take you long and I would be on the run for what remains of my life. I understand there will be no place on earth safe for me.”

This guy is really smart, thought Hamilton. He was right, it wouldn’t take long before they or someone else would catch up with him and kill him, especially if they made it known what he had done.

"I’ll meet you at the door Mr. Abbas," Hamilton said. He hung up the phone and headed for the main door three floors below. By the time he got there, Abbas was waiting.

As Hamilton was leading him to the meeting room, Abbas noticed that everyone was looking at him. They had heard. They knew what he had done.

"Did you know the two men were Israeli agents?" Hamilton asked as soon as they walked into the conference room and closed the door.

"Yes I did," answered Abbas.

"Is that why you killed them?"

"No. One of them shot my father while the Israelis were interrogating him."

"Do you know which one?"

"It doesn’t matter. They were both traitors. I couldn’t tell which one."

"You mean you were there the whole time, asked Hamilton surprised? I was told by the Israelis that they looked for you, and searched the house several times."

"I know, and they came close a couple of times. When they destroyed the house, I was buried under the rubble. I was in that house for four days. Do you know how much reflection you can have in four days Mr. Hamilton?"

"Is that why you opted out, Mr. Abbas?"

"Please call me Abbas. I’m only seventeen years old."

"All right with me, Abbas. You call me Brad. I’m not much older than you myself. I am new at this, barely graduated. This is my first assignment."

"From what I saw, you reacted better than anyone out there by the car, which brings me to the subject. What did you do with it?"

"We burned it," answered Hamilton. "Like you said, we don’t want anyone to think we had anything to do with this”.

"Very smart, Brad!"

"My boss wants to know, why the kids?"

"Very simple really; if they ever found out I did this, they would not rest until I was dead, and I don’t really feel like looking over my shoulder my whole life."

"Now, what is it you want from us?"

"Like I told you before, I want to have a normal life. This is my last year of high school and I want to go to college in the States. The problem is I don’t have the money to do so and sooner or later the Israelis are bound to get me."

"What are you willing to give us in return?"

"First, I will be out of your hair. I know that’s not much, seeing as it will only take a bullet to do that, but when I graduate, I will be willing to train and become an operative for you."

"You mean you are willing to betray your own people, Hamilton asked incredulously?"

"If you remember correctly Brad, they betrayed me first. I am tired of living in poverty trying to make ends meet. My father did that all his life and where did it get him? His wife was cheating on him and his friends killed him. I don’t want to betray my people,

I want to help them. I want to find a way to convince them that violence is not the answer to their misery. Look around you Brad. Show me an Arab country that cares about my people. None of them want us. All this bazaar talk about the struggle is to keep their own people in line and take their minds off their problems. They need a cause to keep the populace in line and what better cause than to have an enemy? A hundred million Arabs and they can’t defeat a minuscule number of people. I know they blame America for supporting the Israelis, but check the conduct of every war, one country at a time Mr. Hamilton. One country at a time goes to war and by the time the others decide to join, separately of course, the first country is already defeated. Have you ever seen the Arabs co-ordinate a fight? No Brad, you haven’t and I tell you what, you never will. They need Israel. They need an enemy because if they don’t have one, they will turn their guns against each other. The Arabs need Israel just like Islam needs America. They need a common enemy or they will lose control."

Hamilton was listening to this seventeen-year old boy talk and was impressed. How true this was. He was sure the Israelis would be glad they wouldn’t have to deal with him. This kid can really put together an argument. Brad wished some of the so-called experts would listen to what this young man had to say. He was glad Abbas had decided to make this move.

"What do you think we can offer you Abbas," he finally asked?

"A scholarship to a reputable university and a living allowance; I don’t really need much. I’ll even take the courses you recommend."

Hamilton was starting to like this kid. He was smart, he reminded him of himself not so long ago.

"Any university in mind Abbas, asked Hamilton?"

"Not really, you can make the recommendation. I would like to stay close to where you will be though. I will probably need someone to talk to once in a while."

"I doubt that Abbas. Somehow I think you will make many friends."

"You agree then," asked Abbas?

"Yes we do. How about New York University? You won’t be far from where I’ll be and once you graduate, we will enroll you at Langley."

"Langley?" asked Abbas.

"The CIA headquarters and training facility in Virginia," Hamilton explained.

A smile showed on Abbas’s face.

"That would be great. That is what I want."

"Settled then," said Hamilton. I will make the arrangements and notify you.

"Please do not get in touch with me or approach me. When I graduate school in a few months, I will contact you. I don’t want anyone to suspect anything."

"Whatever you say, Abbas; just call me when you are ready."

The two men shook hands and Hamilton escorted Abbas to the exit and watched him disappear.

Abbas was completely satisfied with the progress. His plan was falling into place, but he was not done yet. He would solidify his position and make the Americans really believe in him and trust him. He would also make the Palestinians trust him. He would reveal his plans to both sides and convince them all he was working for their side, whilst deceiving the other. As far as he was concerned, he only had one enemy. It was not the Israelis, nor the Americans, not even the Palestinians – although they had betrayed and killed his father. His enemies were the Lebanese. He hated them for the humiliation his father had endured.

Now he had to face the council at the camp. He had to tell them his plans, even to the extent of confessing his crime. He knew what their reaction would be. Disbelief at first, followed by disgust, and finally – fear. He would be feared; you can accomplish almost anything if people fear you enough.