The Somali Deception Episode II (A Cameron Kincaid Serial) (3 page)

“Cameron,” said Christine.

“Oui, l’amour,” said Cameron.

“I am so happy that today I have
you all to me.”
 
Christine tilted
her head to the side and gazed into Cameron’s eyes.
 
He could become lost in those eyes and
never go back to Corsica, to the regiment.
 
Maybe one day.

“Today,” said Christine.
 
“I want to look at puppies.”

“You want to look at puppies?”

“Yes, puppies.
 
One of the girls has this beautiful new
Labrador.
 
She says he is a
Chocolate Lab.
 
He is very cute and
keeps her company when…”

Christine shifted her eyes down
to the table and bit off a small piece of bread.
 
She chewed the piece more slowly than
needed.
 
Cameron waited for her to
finish her sentence and when she did not he prompted her, “When…”

Christine sighed and then sat
upright in her chair, still peering at the table.
 
“I do not want to think bad thoughts
today.
 
I need you to go with me to
find a puppy to keep me company for when you are not here.”
 
She slid her eyes up from the table to
meet Cameron’s again, at the same time grasping his fingers into hers.
 
Playfully pleading she said, “Would you
do that Cameron.
 
Would you go with
me to find a Chocolate Lab puppy?”

Cameron leaned forward and
responded in the guise of a playful lover, “Oui, of course I will go with you
to find a Chocolate Lab puppy.”

Christine lurched forward and
planted a kiss on Cameron, wrapping her hand around his head so that he could
not escape.
 
When she sat back into
her chair, the toothy smile returned to her face.
 
“Fabulous,” she placed her hands flatly
together, “I know just the place in the country and then we can have a picnic.”

Seeing Christine so satisfied
and joyful, Cameron could not help feeling the same.
 
To simply make her happy made him
happy.
 
Cameron again imagined a
world where he could easily stay here in Paris.

Again Christine’s face became
serious, “Cameron.”

“Oui, l’amour.”

“Thank you for being here with
me.”

“Where else would I be?”
 
Cameron placed his arm across the table
and Christine rested her hand in his.

Christine smiled.
 
Then a brief moment later, “Cameron.”

“Oui, l’amour.”

“Thank you for making this
lovely breakfast.”
 
Christine
offered her cup to Cameron, and then sheepishly asked, “May I have more
coffee?”

 

* * * * *

 

 

Chapter
23

Al Marmoom Camel Racetrack,
Dubai

 

 

From his seat in the grandstand
the stringy twelve year old flung his naked arm down toward the starting gate
pit.
 
From the sea of owners,
trainers, and entourages packed tightly behind the twenty-three painted camels,
the boy singled out one man.
 
“That’s him in the full body thobe and ghutra.”

“Very funny little one,” said
Pepe.
 
“They all are wearing thobes
and ghutras.”

“We’re wearing thobes and
ghutras,” said Cameron.
 
“Can you be
more specific?”

In his tattered desert tanned
Tee shirt and matching light denim pants, the boy, Rehan, was the only person
on the grandstand not wearing a thobe or ghutra.
 
The boy shrugged the shoulder of
protruding arm, “You said you wanted the younger man from the Kingdom.”

“Yes,” said Pepe.

“He is there in the white thobe
and red checkered ghutras.”
 
The boy
pressed his arm out farther, wagging his hand toward the man.
 
“There behind the red painted camel with
the green robot.
 
The one with the
number nine on the side, talking to the tall bald man.”

“Yeah,” said Pepe.
 
“I see.”
 
He fixed his eyes on the man the boy had
described.
 
The man, the only one of
the small Arab horde to wear a red-checkered ghutra, was close to his trainer
passionately gesturing toward the length of the track.
 
“Yes, that’s him.”
 
Pepe tilted his head close to Cameron,
“And look who is with him, our friend from the London garage.”

“That’s the man from London alright,”
said Cameron.
 
“Looks
like he is stepping away.
 
Good.”

Cameron slipped his hand into
his thobe, and then retrieved a bright pink folded note revealing a picture of
a hawk and the number one hundred.
 
He held the paper toward the boy.

Rehan’s eyes widened.
 
He snapped for the money.

“Hold on,” said Cameron, lifting
the bill above the boy’s reach.
 
“This dirham is yours as well as the others we promised.”
 
He handed Rehan the bill.

“And the rest?” asked Rehan.

“First I need you to go down
there and tell the Saudi the two Frenchmen are here to see him.”

“But you speak English.”

“And so do you,” said Pepe, “so
what?”

Rehan nodded and scurried down
the grandstand toward the camel pit, his dusted shirt and trousers blending
into the tan sand and shadow below the grandstand.
 
He wove his way through the crowded
staging area, disappeared, reappeared, and then popped up in front of the
Saudi.
 
The Saudi, elegant in his
pristine white thobe, froze mid-gesture of explanation to his trainer of how he
saw the race that was to be run, and then tilted his head down to the urchin
pauper boy before him.
 
Rehan held
his clasped hands up to the man and then swung back around toward the
grandstands and pointed with the same overextended arm and waggling hand he had
used a moment before.
 
The Saudi
fixed his gaze near Cameron and Pepe, his eyes searching.

“Smile and wave,” said Cameron
as he subtly raised his hand.
 
Pepe
did the same.

Having seen their signal the
Saudi smiled, slightly bowed his head, and waved back.
 
He held up his hand with the palm
upwards and all of the fingers together and made a small movement with his
wrist to signify he was almost finished and then he turned back to his trainer.

“Watch this,” said Cameron.

“He will not leave until he has
a reward,” said Pepe referring to the boy, still standing in the Saudi’s
shadow.
 
The Saudi appeared
surprised to realize the boy was still there.
 
He said something to Rehan, and then
attempted to return to the trainer.

“Not that easy,” said Cameron,
and he was correct, as the Saudi next gave Rehan something out of the leather
pouch.
 
Only then did the boy
disappear again into the crowd.

“I don’t know about this guy,”
said Cameron.

“Considering he is friends with
Abbo, that should tell you enough.
 
Then again, he is willing to betray him to us, so.”

“Even that makes me queasy.
 
I mean we’re here for the morning
races.
 
Only sheikhs race in the
morning and this fella owns a camel.”

“A lipstick wearing camel.”

“I think they are all wearing
lipstick.
 
Anyway, if this guy is a
Royal Saud why is he willing to talk to
us?
 
What’s the deal between him and Abbo
anyway?” asked Cameron.

“He owes Abbo money,” said
Pepe.
 
“A lot of it.”

“This fella appears to be
loaded.”

“All appearances.
 
My contact tells me this man is way down
on the Saudi food chain, barely on the radar.
 
He is in hock over his head.
 
That is why he will talk to us.
 
We erase Abbo and --,”

“His debt is erased,” said
Cameron.

“Voila.”

“Must be quite a debt.”

The boy shot up from the bottom
the grandstands.
 
“He is
coming.
 
He says he has to be fast
as the race is to begin.”

“I’m sure he has a lot riding on
that little robot,” said Cameron.

“Excuse me sir?” asked Rehan.

“Wagered, I am sure he has a lot
wagered.”

“Oh no.
 
I am sure he does not.”

“Why is that?”

“Gambling is strictly
forbidden.”

“Then why is he so pumped up?”

“Oh the prizes are great.
 
A luxury SUV, a luxury car, and
yesterday someone won twelve luxury cars.
 
And in the morning race, if you win, or place in the top three, another
sheikh will surely purchase your camel for great riches.”

“Bingo,” sad Pepe.
 
“He wants the prize money.
 
A passive way to stay liquid.”

“Okay, here he comes,” said
Cameron.

“Run along for now little one,”
said Pepe.
 
A fifty-dirham bill
already extended.
 
The boy grabbed the
bill then rolled his eyes at Pepe.
 
Pepe began to stand, “Go on, and come back when the race begins.”

Rehan scurried back down the
grandstand steps the way he had come, circumventing the Saudi along the
way.
 
The Saudi raised his arms
scowling as the boy passed around him.

Cameron and Pepe began to rise
as the Saudi reached their seats.
 
He waved his hand to gesture they remain seated.
 
The Saudi faced the track, smoothed the
length of his thobe, and then without shifting his focus away from his camel,
took a seat next to Pepe.

Pepe greeted the Saudi, “Ahlan
wasahlan,” being sure to mirror the man’s mannerism of keeping his attention
toward the track and not obligating him to make eye contact.

“Ahlan feek,” said the Saudi.

Now that the man was up close
Cameron and Pepe were able to see that the Saudi, as described, was a younger
man, perhaps late twenties, with the handsome look of an aristocrat.
 
His face was smooth and his eyes
jeweled.
 
Having met this type
before they were able to discern this man was arrogant and spoiled, most likely
the flaws that were key to his undoing.

“A fine morning for a camel
race,” said Pepe in his most congenial manner.

The Saudi’s voice betrayed his
disdain and disgust for the two men beside him.
 
His eyes remained fixed on his camel
down below,
 
“So you are the
Frenchmen from Montreal?”

“Oui,” said Pepe.

“Have you ever been to a camel
race before?”

“No.
 
I cannot say that I have.”

“Well, let me tell you.
 
There has not been a good morning for
camel racing in years, not since they started wrapping these electronic devices
in Arabian cloth, and weaving them into the saddlebags.
 
Age old tradition tossed aside for
public relations.”

“I see.
 
The human jockeys were better?”

“Much better,” said the Saudi,
and for the first time, he allowed himself to inspect Pepe and Cameron.
 
Then he returned his focus to the red
painted camel, “Anyway I understand you are looking for a mutual friend.”

Pepe and Cameron of course were
not unnerved at this joke of a man and continued to feign interest in the pit
below, even in the brief moment the Saudi had turned to them.
 
“Yes,” said Pepe, “I was told you would
be able tell us where to find this, friend, in Dubai and more importantly
assist us in getting us close to him.”

“You understand correctly.”

“So will you do this?” asked
Pepe.

“Yes.
 
I will help you though there are some
conditions.”

“Conditions, what do you mean?”

“It was made clear to me that
your intentions are to kill our friend.”

“That may happen,” said Pepe.

Cameron slipped his hand into
his thobe, wanting to be near his weapon if needed.

“I am good with this.
 
And though your business is not my own,
I did have to ask myself why you would want to do something like that.”

“I assure you our action will
serve us both,” said Pepe.

The Saudi turned his head and
faced Pepe, “Well I did some digging, and it is like this Mister Laroque.”
 
Cameron and Pepe both metered their
breaths.
 
The Saudi continued, “I
believe insurance is in my best interest.
 
Were you not to succeed how do I benefit?”

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