"May I ask of the attire you require for the gentlemen for this engagement?"
She is not going anywhere for the night. "Casual is fine, we will be dining in the suite."
"May I ask how long you will require their attention, please?"
Adriana smiles. "I would require them for breakfast as well. I just hate to eat alone."
***
That afternoon, Ahmed works in the basement finishing up his final calculations and double-checking his formula for creating a super foodborne bacteria. He moves to a small microscope, views a slide of bacteria alive with movement, and it is mutating rapidly.
He removes some of the newly created bacteria and places it in six separate Petri dishes under a desk lamp. He adds bits of ground chicken that has been decaying in Tupperware on the roof with some other meats. He opens the other containers. He is repulsed by the odor that fills his basement room. He gags as reaches for a tee-shirt on the floor to cover his nose and mouth.
He mixes the meats in a container. One is marked pork, one poultry and one beef. He adds the various protein bacterias to the Petri dish and then adds a little warm water to his concoction. He seals the lid and shakes the container.
Ahmed reaches for two cans of albacore tuna that he had smashed and placed in a Ziploc bag, exposed to the sun for two days at variable ambient temperatures. He opens the bag. He is overwhelmed by the odor again; he rushes to the bathroom and vomits.
He covers his tee-shirt with rubbing alcohol, and ties it around his face and heads back into the room to finish. He adds the botulism-filled fish from the damaged cans to his Petri dishes, dumps the balance in with his meats, and closes the Tupperware container.
His eyes begin to water from the rancid fumes and odors that have filled the room. He knows there was no time to build a controlled environment. He places the Tupperware in a trash bag, seals it, and covers the lamp and Petri dishes with a box.
He checks his watch and sets an alarm for eleven hours, the optimum time for incubation and mutation cycle. In less than half a day, by morning, Ahmed will create a super bacteria that well self mutate and be difficult to detect once introduced into the food chain.
Early the next morning, Ahmed has finished prayers. He checks the street outside the market. He then checks the alley out back. There is a homeless man digging in the market trash dumpster for food.
Ahmed calls out to him. "Hey, if you're hungry, I have some fresh food for you."
The man, startled at first, smiles and climbs down. Ahmed grabs two sandwiches that Omar had made for him before he left for the weekend and some juice from the refrigerator.
He rushes back to the rear door and gives the man the food and two containers of orange juice.
The old man accepts and looks to Ahmed's face. "God bless you. Thank you, young man."
Ahmed responds to the weathered old man. "Assalmu Alaikom." The old man smiles and says to Ahmed, "I have peace, thank you, and I wish it for you as well."
The man makes his way to his cart and pushes it down the alley. Ahmed watches as he disappears around the corner.
Ahmed closes the door and secures it. He takes two large baking trays from a rack and heads downstairs. He places the racks on a table, pours some bleach on each, and wipes them to prevent cross contamination to Omar's trays.
He removes a small lab syringe from his bag. He then wraps his face with the tee-shirt and opens the Tupperware. His eyes detect the fumes, and he smells the vile odor again as he dips a syringe and places his viral concoction into the Petri dishes, then places covers on the dishes and places them on the trays. He wraps the trays in plastic film and secures the edges.
He checks to make sure that the Petri dish bottoms have even and equal coverage with his fatal bacterial menace.
He takes the remains and dumps them in the toilet. Ahmed flushes twice, as he pours an ample amount of bleach behind it. He flushes again. He returns to the tables and wipes everything down with bleach. He places the dishes on the trays, then into an old refrigerator in his room. It is now finally done. He will deliver his super bacteria, and then finally his task will be completed.
Ahmed checks the room and makes sure everything is clean. He goes upstairs to make some breakfast, while he wonders how the old American knew the meaning of the comment he made in the alley.
The opulence of the Abu Dhabi skyline glimmers like jewels in the desert as the man approaches with his English escort in a limousine. The desert has always seemed so peaceful to him since he was a boy. He was nervous about this unexpected trip and knew that it meant trouble. He also knows that he held all of the cards, except for what they owe him. The limo pulls up to a glass tower and is greeted by several well dressed sentries in western business suits who form a line of protection to the main doors under a well lit porte-cochère.
The Englishman exits first and the man follows, checking the eyes of the sentries as he passes each one, knowing that he may have to face one or more of them if this meeting goes awry. They enter the building and security is greater than he has ever seen as they go into the private elevator that whisks them to the penthouse where the white robes wait.
They exit the elevator and are searched by yet more security and are escorted through two large gold doors where the lights from the jewels of the desert are visible through the wall of glass that wraps the room in marble, white and gold.
Three men stare, all seated in their robes in a sitting area dressed with leather decor and African hides. They rise as the two men enter, and the man kisses each of them on each cheek and the hand of one, who motions for him to take a seat. A servant appears ready with beverages and serves them as the man waits for the eldest to speak.
The eldest robed man speaks. "Darren, thank you for escorting our guest here. You may wait downstairs."
The Englishman sets down his beverage and excuses himself as he leaves.
The doors of gold close and the elder Arab speaks in a firm tone. "You have brought great madness to the world, and our market interests have spiraled much greater than we anticipated."
The man listens closely.
"The pressure from the west is causing great fear and concern among all of our allies and partners across the world. We are considering an end to all of this. We fear we have made a mistake in placing our trust in your plan to strengthen Islam and the Arab nations."
The man sets his drink down to respond properly. "You and our Arab brothers control vast wealth and commodities. Yet you all wish not to tarnish or soil your robes of white. Therefore, you come to men like me to alter the environments in which you all cast your lots to ensure favor in their bidding. Yet you want to leash, or chastise men like me, who are your secret dogs of war." The man stares at them grimly as he continues. "You clandestinely wish not to offend your neighbors, who do not share your conspiracies. Now that we have shown the intruders of Islam the nature of our bite, for there are no fences with which to keep us out. You then scoff at the methods in which we tear our prey, to chase them from our lands by biting them in their fields. Yet, I draw a fraction of the blood. Not unlike our brothers' blood, which they have spilled on our sands in our very own regions where we have lived and raised our families for decades."
He draws from his own anger. "I say now to your faces. I will not relent, because you send an errand messenger who fetches the dog that you unleashed, and I shall affirm my position to you, as we agreed."
The man continues as he rises. "Just as you cannot stop a rock which falls from the mountain, nor the blood that is drawn from a bite to the hearts of those enemies of your kingdom. You cannot stop this either, it is dentinal. This, including all of the lands of Islam, those lands that hold the very commodities that you so wish to control. As each of you fill your bags of gold which you hide in foreign lands." He slowly turns looking at each one of them.
He went on. "My bags shall too be filled, as you promised, by the next banking day. As I have abided by my word, which always is kept." He moves t
o the wall of glass and raises his hands as he looks out with his back to them. "The markets shall turn in your favor, and shall yield great fortunes for the Arab states. Islamic consideration shall rise from the respect and fear of our actions. The west will flee from the soils they have tarnished with Muslim blood, which they have exploited for so long."
He turns and looks at them. "Correct me if I am wrong, but was this not your goal? Is not Mecca the center of the entire world? Is it not the duty of the kingdom and its leaders of influence to protect it?" He finishes by sitting down and finishes his beverage in silence.
An hour later the man boards a private jet as the Englishman sees him off, with two new women waiting to serve his needs inside. The plane departs for Vancouver, British Columbia as the sun rises early Sunday morning.
***
It is ten hours earlier in Denver Saturday night. Reggie is sitting in a restaurant bar and has been waiting for some time, nursing a cocktail at a booth. He hears high heels behind him. Adriana Pucci sits down across from him and pushes her thick dark curly hair over her shoulder.
Reggie pulls the toothpick from his mouth. "I've been waiting almost two hours."
Adriana waves to the server as she responds. "Did you get your mail?"
He looks at her, admiring her stunning face. "Yes, now would you please answer my question?"
Adriana says, "I have had a few obstacles to overcome lately."
"I am not tripping on that. Do you read the papers, or watch the news?"
She looks at him again and decides to placate him. "Of course, isn't it all so horrible?"
The server comes and Adriana orders a glass of Chardonnay.
Reggie continues, "I am not talking about the terrorist thing. I'm talking about me being busted with the last load. And your clueless ass is just mailing her little butt off like you work for Hallmark or something, right in the middle of it all."
He sees that Adriana is surprised at his disclosure.
"And now I got the feds picking up my case from the local authorities. Where have you been, on the moon or some shit?" Reggie maintains eye contact as he speaks to Adriana. "It has been in the papers, the news, and even cable. Man, I got homies that know me all my life that cross the street when they see my compromised black ass coming. I'm hotter than Alabama asphalt in August. Adriana, they could be on me, right now."
Adriana feels sick as she scans the restaurant. The server arrives with her wine, and she drinks it down quickly as she shoulders her purse. "I have to go, Reggie. This is not good news."
"Wait a damn minute, Miss Finer-Than-Silk. What you want me to do with the package I just got?"
Adriana speaks in a hushed voice. "Move it at twenty percent discount. I'll be in touch when it snows in Denver." Adriana stands up and moves quickly out of the restaurant.
Reggie sits there, blown away by this chick, and says aloud, "Now isn't that a mother fucker."
***
Dana is sitting at the kitchen table with her dad, eating ice cream from the carton with her leg on another chair that she is sharing with her father as he sips scotch.
"I got real nasty with Matt today. I feel bad."
Her dad says, "We have two other attorneys trying to find out where they are holding David. I have his father on it from his end in Chicago, and Matthew has the head of his firm, Joe, the ex-DA, looking into it as well. I think this thing is a case of the whole damn world gone crazy."
She looks at her father. "Dad, how much did you have to spend with Matt and his firm to get us help?"
Her father says, "I called Matthew because you asked me to, and he was the closest to David and you, and I knew we needed someone that we could trust. When he answered the phone, I think I had interrupted him from a personal setting. It was late, but as soon as he heard what had happened, he said he would get right back to me. He called me back in about fifteen minutes and said he was getting in the shower and would let me know what he found out, and that he was going downtown. I said to him, 'What do you need to handle this matter?' He said, 'I just want to make it go away.' He told me not to worry; that you had already retained him." Her father looks at her with concern.
"Dana, why did you retain an attorney if you did not know anything about all of this, honey?"
She realizes where he is going with this. "Daddy, that was on a different matter not related to this craziness, and it wasn't criminal, for God's sakes."
Richard says, "Thank God, my mind was haunting me with fear that you had gotten yourself into something so bad and felt you could not come to me for help, and for the life of me, I hope you never feel that way, Dana."
She smiles. "You are my number-one go-to man for everything in my life Daddy, that will never change, I promise." Dana gets up to put the ice cream away and kisses her dad on the forehead as she sits back down. "What did David's father say about all this?"
He shakes his head. "Jerry was very quiet while I described to him what had happened here, and then he said to me, 'Richard, where is David?' I told him that I did not know; just that the FBI told me his son was also in custody and he asked me many questions. He then told me that he was going to call the law firm that handled all of his business and that he would provide any funds necessary. He then asked me if I thought this had anything to do with David being Jewish, and I told him I did not think so, but he seemed to have his own conclusion. I've talked to him three times since then, and he told me that he had a top guy out of Chicago retained, and that he was trying to find out what is going on, and where David is being held."
She stares at her father. "Daddy, you remember yesterday when we talked about being scared? I hope and pray the sun is planning on coming up tomorrow and the birds are going to sing."
***
Adriana arrives at her apartment and rushes to the elevator from the parking garage. The meeting with Reggie has sparked more fear in her. She enters her apartment and walks through, checking for any disruption or evidence of a search. Satisfied that her apartment is not compromised, Adriana pulls some bags from the hall closet, and throws them on her bed and unzips them.
She chooses items for her wardrobe carrier and shoes to match. She packs quickly as she pulls the drawers out of her dresser, removes three passports with credit cards and driver's licenses to match each passport that are taped to the bottom of a drawer, as she dumps the contents into a bag. She packs her lingerie and underwear, then zips the bags and sets them by the door. She goes to her desk in the living room and searches through a business card book and finds the ones she is looking for.
She dials a number as she looks at her watch. "Is this Carl Hauser? I'm sorry to disturb you so late this evening. This is Adriana Pucci, from the Pucci Ranch in Bozeman." She pauses as he acknowledges her. "Right, and you had contacted me several times, representing a buyer who was interested in my family's property. In addition, you told me if I ever changed my mind, to call you. Well, I have changed my mind, if your buyer is still interested and is willing to give a fair market value price. Yes, then I would be interested in closing as fast as possible."
She listens to the realtor, "Uh-huh. Yes, that is perfect. I will send you the information and my contact info and what title company I wish to use for the closing, and a power of attorney for signing on my behalf. By the way, what is your commission on a transaction like this? I see, would you come down a point since I'm just calling you exclusively? A half a point is fine. Please include that in the contract. Thank you Carl, good night."
Adriana snaps her phone shut and falls back on the bed as if crucified. A thought slams her mind: what if her phone is tapped, or tracked? Shit, she needs to change phones as soon as possible.
Her phone rings and she is startled, but she recognizes the ring tone and answers seductively. "How are we this evening?"
The man is sitting on the plane awaiting his car. "Are you angry with me for breaking our arrangements?"
She thinks of the two escorts and smiles.
"How could I
be angry when you send me such wonderful gifts. I was just disappointed like a schoolgirl. I miss you."
The man answers Adriana, delighted by her response. "I promise, I will make it up to you."
"I will hold you to that promise, when will you make it up to me?"
"Can you get away next week, after the children are enrolled in their new school, maybe for a week or two?"
Adriana is relieved, but does not let on. "I will try, but must I wait a week after I tend to the children?"
"I'll tell you what, my darling. You can meet me where we watched the birds soar. They will be expecting you at your leisure. I will make all the arrangements and I will arrive as soon as I can if you so wish."
She senses something in his voice. "I adore your ways; a girl's wishes come true. I'll leave after the children are seen to. I cannot wait to see you."
Adriana hangs up, moves into the bathroom, and gathers her makeup and toiletries. She checks the apartment for anything she may have missed. She loads the elevator with her baggage and heads for another hotel; she will come back to tie up loose ends here later.
Chapter Eleven
David is sitting in the same interrogation room with his head now covered. His condition has diminished greatly. The concrete floor is now covered with his urine. His eyes are red from the tears and exhaustion. He tastes dried blood in his mouth as two other men dressed in fatigues are now conducting yet another more physical interrogation. There is a man dressed in a shirt and tie sitting in a dark corner of the room who has been silently observing the entire time, and leaving the room occasionally.
The CIA interrogator in fatigues grabs David by the hair and rips the hood off to keep him awake. "Bloomfield, open your eyes. There is no rest, and there will be no sleep. You understand me. You will share everything that you know and you will share it now." He pushes David over for the umpteenth time and kicks him in the ass.
David slides in the urine on the floor to the end of the chain, the handcuffs cutting into his wrists. "I do not know anything, and screw you. How can I tell you anything that I do not know? God, somebody help me."
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