Fortunes Obsession (25 page)

     Finally, weeks later, he was given clean fatigues and brought before a man dressed in military clothes. The man looked at him for a long time before he spoke.

" We are going to give you an opportunity to save your life. If you do not make the most of this opportunity, you will be put to death.  You have killed a man during your incarceration and the regime would not ordinarily tolerate such behavior from a prisoner.  However, you have shown us some attributes that could be very useful to the Colonel.  Are you willing to swear by Allah that you would give your life for him and give him your undying loyalty?"

     Bokaar was taken aback by this but would swear to anything to get him out of that prison and certainly, to save his own life.

"  I swear by all that is holy and may Allah strike me dead if I am lying."  His face was that of a man pleading for his life.

     He was sent to a training camp in the desert, where he was trained in every aspect of terrorism.

He was taught to kill with live subjects.  Prisoners who had been sentenced to death were brought to the camp to be slaughtered in every imaginable way.  Bokaar realized that he would have been one of them if not for his phenomenal luck.  He was an excellent student and found out that he had a blood lust that was insatiable.  Killing was an almost sexual thing with him and almost as good as the  unlimited sex he had with the young girls that were brought to the camp for the

pleasure of the trainees.  On several occasions he was told to take a girl sexually in any way he wished and when finished with her, kill her in any way he wished.  This was a sublime thrill for him and there wasn't enough of it to satisfy him.  After the physical part of the training, his officers discerned a great deal of intelligence in this young but uneducated man.  He was recommended for training in explosives and demolition.  He was disappointed in this. His dream was to be an assassin, a killer of individuals instead of a mass murderer.  He knew though, that in this organization, you  followed orders.  Killing large groups of people was a great skill, he knew but killing someone , one on one,  was the thrill he desired.

Through the years, he did on occasion, get the opportunity to kill and it still thrilled him. The discipline of his training took precedence over all and he had to practice control.  He had a massive appetite for sex, eating , drinking and killing and was able to indulge himself often, in the first three.  He was anxious that this operation go smoothly.  He was proud that of all the participants in the World Trade Center bombing, he was the only one not caught.  He was proud of the wits that had kept him alive all these years.  He was ashamed of himself for almost losing his composure over that damn blonde woman of Fahd's.  He still thought of the bitch. There was something about her that made his juices boil.  He still dreamed of the ways he would defile her sexually and then of the way he would kill her.  The thought of fucking her and bringing her to a climax and then strangling her was on his mind often.  He tried, in vain to cleanse himself of these thoughts but they were obsessive.  He ordered yet another drink and drank himself into a stupor.

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Fahd stirred and looked at the alarm clock.  It was eight in the morning and  Sarita's naked brown body lay next to his.  A tropical morning breeze blew past the sliding doors of their

bedroom. They had turned off the air conditioning and opened the doors and let the tropical sea breeze bathe their bodies.  Fahd thought that he could easily live like this forever.  In fact, he had no intention of going back to New York.  He had enough money put away in the Caymans to live like this the rest of his life.  He had gotten away with everything he had done.  Why tempt the fates?  He would go back to New York, sell the apartment and come back here and live with this lovely creature.  He left the bedroom and went to the living room and dialed Mustafa's number.

He was relieved when Mustafa himself answered. He still was worried about his mysterious absence on the day he left.

" Mustafa, my friend, how good it is to hear you sound so well.  I would like you to pick me up tomorrow at Kennedy.  I will make the usual flight."

There was silence, except for Mustafa's panicked heavy breathing on the other end of the phone.

" Mustafa, what is the matter with you.  Are you ill?"

Mustafa was taken aback and did not know what to say.  He stuttered and hesitated but finally got it out.  " Yes, yes Mr. Fahd, yes , I will do that. Yes, yes I will do that."

With that he hung up.  Fahd was puzzled.  Was Mustafa ill?  Had he gone out of his mind?

Or.......................was he trying to tell him something.  Were the police after him? Had they questioned Mustafa?  He called the doorman of his building and asked if anyone had been around asking questions.  The doorman assured him that all was quiet and Fahd assumed that they would certainly have searched his apartment or at least inquired after him.  He decided that Mustafa must be having personal problems and that it was certainly  the reason he sounded so agitated. He decided he would go to New York after all.  He would not take Sarita with him though. Someone might talk her into staying and he had not by a longshot tired of this delectable creature as yet.

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Bokaar dialed Fahd’s office from a phone in the lobby.  He listened to it ring at least twenty times and not knowing Fahd's unlisted home number, was in a quandary.  He was just hanging up the phone and about to call one of his other sources when he couldn't believe his eyes.  Coming out of an elevator,  was the blonde woman, holding hands with the strapping young man who had bested him at the house in New Jersey.  He was torn between the discipline of his mission and his desire for this woman.  He hung up the phone and at a safe distance followed the young couple.  He watched them, with their arms around each others waists and boiled with anger.  He would like to kill the man and then abduct the woman but reason prevailed and he decided that he would be patient and take the girl when the man was away from her.

He knew that he looked nothing like the man either one of them had seen but he used every precaution as he followed them.  By this time, discipline be damned, his primary mission was temporarily forgotten.

     He was used to long, boring surveillance, having been trained in the art, so he expected a long evening.  He followed them to a restaurant and waited in the street for almost two hours, looking in store windows and reading a newspaper, being careful to shift his area of surveillance often , so as not to arouse suspicion.  When the couple came out he kept his eye peeled for cabs in case they hailed one and he had to follow.  He was lucky though. They opted to walk home and he easily and unobtrusively was able to follow.  They entered an apartment building on the west side and he patiently waited downstairs, expecting one or the other to come out alone.  When, after several hours had past, no one came out, he was unsure about his further moves.  He knew that one or the other, or perhaps both lived here but didn't know which.  He knew that he possessed

valuable information and could now take his time.  He would come back when his important work was finished, abduct the girl and take her to the house in Paramus.  With a sigh of disappointment, combined with a surge of optimism, he hailed a cab and left the area.

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Dara watched Peter work out on the treadmill.  She felt a surge of desire as she watched sweat pour over the finely developed muscles on his tanned body.

" I was so afraid you'd be mad at me for coming back.  I was so happy to see you and dinner tonight was like a dream come true.  Just looking at you across the table and talking over drinks as if we'd never been apart.  It was special."

Peter smiled at her and she felt a pang in the pit of her stomach.  " I guess I overreacted honey. After that episode in New Jersey, I was afraid they would come after you.  I guess they're doing their thing now and hopefully, the FBI will catch them.  I'm glad you came back. I think you’re pretty safe now."

Dara felt happier than she could remember. " Tomorrow, I'm going out to look for a job. I want us to have a real life.  I don't want to just be your girl that you have stashed in your apartment."

Peter momentarily felt the pangs of jealousy that he had previously felt when he found out about her relationship with Fahd but it quickly passed as he mustered control of those emotions.

He stepped off the treadmill and headed towards the shower, shedding his workout clothes as he walked.  Moments after he entered the shower, the door opened and Dara, naked and  sensuous as ever, stepped in with him.  They stood, arms around each other, the water running over them.  Their bodies soon lowered to the ample shower floor and they made urgent, hungry

love, the water still cascading over them.  When their passion was spent, they lay a long time on the shower floor, the water quenching the flames of their passion.

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Fahd settled in the first class seat, not knowing the conservatively dressed young man across the aisle from him was an FBI agent.  He sipped his drink, planning his course of action.  He would go to his office and erase any incriminating evidence. He would then arrange for the sale of his apartment and erase any incriminating evidence that might be there.  It was time to realize that his luck would not hold out forever.  He would reap the fruits of his hard and clever labor and live a normal life.  Possible this thing with Sarita would last a long time.  She had quickly become educated to the things he like sexually and performed admirably. She indulged him in all of his quirks.  When the female maids massaged him naked, instead of getting jealous, she was aroused . This was surely his kind of woman.  He wondered how the Cape Canaveral caper was going.

Ordinarily, he would be concerned with the success of such a venture, since it would mean future business from the groups involved.  Now, however, he was going to be a retired terrorism broker and he didn't care how they did.  He realized that he had some bearer bonds with a broker in New York that would also add to his sizeable nest egg.

When he arrived at Kennedy, a nervous Mustafa was waiting for him.

Fahd was angry.  " What the hell is going on, Mustafa?  Where were you the day I left and why do you sound so nervous?"  He raised his voice.  " Tell me.......Now?"

Mustafa still feared for the life of his family overseas.  He was visibly trembling and stuttered during his reply.

" Oh.....oh....Mr. Fahd....I......I.....I was so sick. I was in the hospital.  I fainted and didn't  wake

soon enough to call you and tell you.  The sweat visibly ran down Mustafa's face and Fahd knew instantly that he was lying.  He sat back quietly and thought for a moment.

" Stop by the office.  There are some things I want you to carry down for me....and park in the garage.  We may be a while."

     Mustafa trembled as they rode the elevator.  Somehow he knew that Fahd did not believe a word of his story.  He was torn.  On one side, Fahd, with his vast international connections, or so Mustafa thought, could have his family eradicated.  The government on the other hand would deport him and he would surely be executed when he arrived.

     The minute they opened the door, Fahd could tell that someone was in the office. Draws were opened and fingerprint dusting powder was everywhere.  Papers were strewn about and no attempt had been made to straighten up.  Typical police search procedure. He turned toward Mustafa and viciously punched him in the stomach.  The smaller man doubled over and started to whimper but said nothing as Fahd's shoe struck him in the side of his head.  His whimpering turned to wailing and he crawled into a corner, hands protectively in front of his face.

     " All right you little bastard......you are going to tell me everything or I will kill you very slowly and then I will arrange to have your loved ones tortured and killed.  You know I can do that don't you?"  Actually , Fahd had no idea how he could ever have this done.  His relationship with the Iranian regime was non-existent.  The terrorists he worked with never revealed their affiliation and were secretive as can be.  In fact, this latest bunch, as far as he was concerned, represented no particular country and if they did, he didn't want to know about it.

His first idea to retire and go to Puerto Rico was out of the question.  It was obvious he had been compromised.  They knew about him and about what he did.  He did not think for a minute

That his silk merchant cover had stood up under police scrutiny.  He looked down at the sniveling Mustafa.  "Well?"

     The little man blurted out the story of how the FBI had accosted him in the parking garage and of their threats and promises.  He confessed that he had told them exactly where Fahd had gone and had related as much as he knew about the delivery  to Paramus.  He told Fahd of the attempted kidnaping by Bokaar and the rescue by the people in the Cadillac.

     Fahd knew now that he couldn't go back to Puerto Rico, nor could he get Sarita out of there, without leading the authorities to him.  He could not understand why they did not arrest him in Puerto Rico, which was certainly American ground and certainly had an FBI office.  Obviously they wanted him to lead them to the plotters.  He almost laughed when he realized they had no idea that he did not know where the plotters were.  The only place he knew was the address in New Jersey and certainly Mustafa had given them that.  They would be following him now.