Part 27 (1/2)
”Only if you p.i.s.s me off.”
”Well,” he said dramatically, ”I hope I have not offended you.”
”Not yet.”
”You didn't seem too pleased last night.”
”I was more upset with your new business a.s.sociate than you.”
”He was only trying to make a little money. I can't begin to imagine trying to live on one of those pensions they give you.”
”I don't suppose you could, with your high-flying lifestyle, but that's not really the point. He knew the rules and he broke them.”
”And me?” Sidorov said a bit tentatively.
”You didn't break any law that I'm aware of.”
”Well.” He laughed. ”You don't know me yet.”
”I know enough. I made some calls as well.”
”And?”
Rapp didn't answer for a beat. ”I think we should sit down and discuss a few things.”
”I would love to. How does your evening look?”
”Not good,” Rapp said, looking at the house. ”How about right now?”
Sidorov laughed. ”I am barely awake, Mr. Rapp. I still haven't adjusted to the time change and we stayed out very late last night.”
”That's all right. I didn't get much sleep either. Besides . . . you Russians can all handle your booze.” Rapp put the car in drive and pulled across the street into the flat U-shaped drive. ”Listen, I'm parked in front of your house right now. Invite me in for a cup of coffee. I'm kind of on a tight schedule this morning.” Rapp turned off the engine and got out. He counted to ten and then Sidorov appeared in a second-story window. He was still in a robe.
”You are a resourceful man, Mr. Rapp. How do I know you are not here to kill me?”
Rapp looked up at him and wondered what a.s.surance he could offer. ”For starters . . . I don't like to s.h.i.+t in my own yard.”
”Meaning?” Sidorov asked.
”This is Was.h.i.+ngton. I live here. I don't need that kind of exposure. Besides, if I was going to do something like that I wouldn't call you up and ask you to talk. I'd just do it. You'd never see me coming.”
Sidorov thought about it for a long moment. ”I suppose you are right. I'll tell my people to let you in. Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”
CHAPTER 55.
NORTHERN ARKANSAS.
HAKIM stayed in the overstuffed leather chair and carefully chewed a banana. Between bites he sipped the warm lemon water Ahmed had prepared for him. The tall Moroccan was outside doing a sweep of the property-his punishment for nursing Hakim. Hakim could tell it bothered Karim that Ahmed was trying to take care of him. He had always held the frail in contempt. Even when they were young. He had no time for excuses or kids who claimed to be infirm. stayed in the overstuffed leather chair and carefully chewed a banana. Between bites he sipped the warm lemon water Ahmed had prepared for him. The tall Moroccan was outside doing a sweep of the property-his punishment for nursing Hakim. Hakim could tell it bothered Karim that Ahmed was trying to take care of him. He had always held the frail in contempt. Even when they were young. He had no time for excuses or kids who claimed to be infirm.
Hakim watched him pace from one end of the house to the other and could tell he was irked to be in the presence of his feeble friend. Never mind that he had caused the injuries. Karim was far too narcissistic to own up to that. In his mind, Hakim had deserved the beating, and he had done nothing more than carry out the punishment. Karim probably thought that if his friend had been in better shape, he would have suffered less from the blows. None of it actually made any sense, but it allowed him to rationalize away his guilt and look down on his injured friend with disgust.
The front door opened and Ahmed entered the room. He leaned his rifle against the wall and took the binoculars from around his neck. With flushed cheeks he said, ”The perimeter is secure. No sign of anyone.”
Karim stood with his deliberate military posture and looked out the big window. ”I heard a dog.”
”Yes,” Ahmed said with a slight bow of his head. ”From down the hill. The next house. Eight hundred meters away. There are several of them.”
”Are they fenced in?”
”No.”
”And what should we do if they wander up here?”
Ahmed looked nervously at Hakim for help and then said, ”Shoot them?”
”Maybe.” Karim slowly turned and looked him in the eye. ”I do not like this place.”
”Why?” Hakim asked, inserting himself into the conversation.
Karim looked as if he might not answer the question, and then said, ”There is too much we do not know.”
”Such as?” Hakim asked ”We do not know if someone is expected to show up. They could have deliveries. The phone has already rung twice.” He looked to the photos on the mantel. ”Family may live nearby.”
He was right, but all of that could have been avoided. He gambled and decided to point out the obvious. ”Maybe if you weren't so quick to kill everyone we stumble upon, we might be able to answer some of your questions.”
Karim looked to Ahmed and shook his head. It was one of those looks that said, See . . . what I have been telling you. See . . . what I have been telling you. Turning back to his old friend, Karim said, ”What is wrong with you? Why must you argue with everything I say?” Turning back to his old friend, Karim said, ”What is wrong with you? Why must you argue with everything I say?”
”Why must you kill every person we come across?”
Karim looked with thinly veiled contempt at his friend. He was like a sick dog that needed to be put down, and if he didn't do it quickly, the disease was likely to spread to Ahmed. They were going to have to leave this place. The woman was still in the bed. He'd considered moving her but the pillow, sheets, and mattress were soaked with blood. The old man and the dog were in the corner of the garage under a tarp. He might as well kill Hakim in the leather chair and leave him there. Maybe even make it look like a suicide to confuse the police. That was a good plan. Trash the place, shoot his friend in the side of the head, and put his gun in his hand. Karim was considering how he would move into position without alerting Hakim when Ahmed stepped between them and pointed at the TV.
”It has started,” Ahmed said.
They all turned their attention to the TV and watched as the American president stepped up to an outdoor podium. He began reading a prepared speech. Karim scowled at the man and briefly imagined what it would be like to kill the president of the United States. That would surely earn him eternal glory in the eyes of Allah and his fellow Muslims the world over. The president droned on about the hard work, duty, sacrifice, and perseverance of the rescue workers, emergency personnel, and law enforcement over the past week. Karim noticed, not for the first time, that leaders the world over loved to hear themselves speak. It was as if they were a walking thesaurus. Descriptions came in threes, when one adjective would do just fine. He supposed it made them feel smart.
The president went on to talk about the losses they had suffered. He choked up at the mention of some of the friends he'd lost in the explosions and went on to talk briefly about the funerals he'd attended for much of the week. In a more commanding voice he listed half a dozen tragedies that had beset the country over the past eighty years and gave examples of how each time Americans rose to the occasion and persevered. Then he moved onto a topic that grabbed Karim's interest.
”In regard to the cowardly attacks of last week there is an untold chapter that I had decided to keep from you until now. The reasons for not coming forward with this sooner are complicated, but in essence involve issues of national security. In addition to the three restaurants that were bombed last week a federal facility in Virginia was also attacked. There has been no shortage of rumors in regard to the facility itself and the attack on it. I'm here this morning to put those rumors to rest. The facility that was attacked was the National Counterterrorism Center. As the name would suggest, this relatively new building houses elements of the both the FBI's and the CIA's counterterrorism units as well as personnel from over a dozen other agencies and organizations. The building is the nerve center for the battle against terrorism. Just hours after last week's cowardly attacks in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., a . . .”
Karim pointed at the TV and began screaming. ”Cowardly! He puts pilotless drones in the air over Pakistan and fires on villages with women and children and he dares call us cowards.”
Hakim thought about pointing out the fact that the reason those missiles were fired was that al Qaeda liked to hide behind the skirts of the very women he was describing, but he thought that might finally put his friend over the edge, and all things considered, he wanted to live long enough to hear the president's side of the story.