by Paul Clark
*****
“Fahd, this is Paul,” he said in English. I have bad news.”
A word in Arabic that he did not know came loudly through the earpiece. Then “Shit” in English. “Paul, what now? Is it my house in Dhahran, or the boys in al-Hail?”
“No, neither. You’re blown here again. There’s a nasty looking Egyptian watching the hotel from across the street and about a hundred meters East. Probably followed Mohammed, but don’t be too hard on the boy. I assume he didn’t know . . .”
“No, he didn’t know, but I’ve already been pretty hard on him. Paul, he’s going to be a problem.”
“We’ll deal with that later. Right now I need you to get ready to move again, but we’re going to have to move light this time. With my apologies, please ask Fadia to pack very light, only what you can carry. We’ll be moving on the subway.”
“When?”
“Probably in about thirty minutes, an hour at the most. I’m booked at a number of hotels,” he chuckled briefly, “to confuse my own side, which really makes me laugh, but we’ll move you to one of those. Just for tonight. Tomorrow we’re leaving Paris, I’ll let you know where later tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on how things go. The ladies can shop when we get there to re-equip. Uncle Sam’s credit card again, my friend.”
“That won’t be necessary, Paul. I can handle it. Do we follow our plan to get into Saudi Arabia as we agreed earlier today, or has that changed?”
“No, no change, we go, just making a short detour is all. Why?”
“I need to make a couple of calls then. When do you think we will head that way?
Cameron thought for a moment. “I’d think in two days, maybe three at the most. Is that close enough to work with?”
“That’ll be fine. Let me ring off now and get things moving here, make my calls. Are you coming here?”
“Yes, when everything’s set, but I’ll call first. Don’t answer the door unless I tell you first by phone that I’m about to knock. These people are nasty, Fahd, we take no chances.”
Had he been in the hotel Cameron would have seen what Fadia saw on her husband’s face, something she had never seen before but which chilled her to the bone. It was an animal face, full of violence, the face of death that seemed to say to something she hoped was nowhere nearby “I am death, and I will come for you.” Instead they both heard Fahd say simply, “Leave some for me, Paul. I’ve had enough of being hunted, time to change roles. Call me before you come.”
“Will do, pal, will do.” They both rang off.
Cameron turned to Ripley. “I think my General is ready to kill something, and if he gets a chance anytime soon, I rather believe he’d do it just like that,” he clicked his fingers.
“I hope he doesn’t have to, Colonel. I really do, but I hope he’s ready to do it if it comes down to that. You ready to do this thing?”
“Ready Mr. Ripley,” Cameron was grinning the dangerous, reptilian grin, his eyes like ice.
“Then let’s saddle up.” Ripley got out of the car, Cameron also, and as they passed each other at the hood Cameron took the keys. Ripley looked at his watch. I’ll call you with a thirty-second warning, probably around five or six minutes after ten. Time now nine fifty-five.”
“Nine fifty-five,” Cameron looked back up from his own watch. Take care, Ripley.”
Ripley shrugged. “Big guys just fall hard.” He spun on his heel, rounded the corner and walked off East toward the hotel four blocks away, moving smooth, like a cat or like flowing water. Cameron swung behind the wheel and drove off to the end of the block, also turning East.