“I would have never fallen asleep during prayer in my younger days. How embarrassing,” Aziz muttered to himself before continuing. “Colin, my friend, it good to see you. It has been a while.” Aziz ignored Sean, looking past him to the CIA case officer who stood behind him drying his face with a handkerchief.
“Swanky place for an old beggar like yourself, Aziz.” Sean gestured at the opulence engulfing them, the business end of his pistol weaving dangerously in the air.
“I have friends who let me come here for prayers. I prefer to be alone when I commune with Allah,” Aziz replied.
“Sure beats the hell out of the rat hole that you had in Islamic Cairo. It was a dump, and that was before you had it blown up.” Sean did not try to hide his irritation. His short stay in Cairo was proving to be extremely dangerous. He had been on Egyptian soil for only a few minutes when his limousine was assaulted by a group of kamikaze motorcycle fanatics. After a day of calm they set off to look for Aziz, first trying the obvious spot; the hovel where Colin introduced Anna to the old man for the first time. Perhaps not surprisingly, the hovel had been booby-trapped. They figured out their dilemma in time to jump out the window and into the alley just as the roof of the second floor came crashing down, destroying the little apartment.
“Well, the people of Cairo have not been financially blessed by Allah. Tragedies occur all the time. Luckily no one upstairs was home at the time, so no dead.” Aziz picked his glasses off the floor and pushed them onto the skeletal remains of his face. “Can I help you, gentlemen?” He asked calmly.
Colin stepped forward, holstering his weapon in an attempt to relieve some of the tension in the massive room. “I have some follow up questions for you, Aziz. Do you remember when I brought by the young lady from the FBI a few months ago? The one who had some questions regarding Aman?” Colin asked as he continued dabbing his neck with his handkerchief in a nervous gesture. The cool air permeating the room was slowly beginning to unglue his sweat-stained shirt from his body.
Aziz looked to the ceiling, appearing to ponder the question like an absent-minded professor. “A few months ago... I barely remember what I did hour ago. It is problem getting old. I don’t recommend it.”
“It beats the alternative.” Sean interjected himself into the conversation.
“I take it you must be American friend of Colin’s. Your rudeness gives you away. It is a distinct trait of all your people, no matter how hard you try to mask it.”
Aziz turned his attention back towards Colin. “Now I remember, Colin. She also asked some questions about Aman’s stepson.”
“That’s correct. We’ve had some issues come up recently that need clarification.”
“Such as?” Aziz asked.
“I’ve recently learned that she didn’t leave Egypt of her own free will. She was expelled from the country for some made-up excuse about a passport violation. It seemed pretty minor to me, and I was asked to look into it.”
“What does this have to do with me, Colin?”
“Aziz, I know you have contacts in the Egyptian government. High ups. I heard a rumor that you asked that she be expelled. Do you want to tell me why?
“I don’t know what you talking about,” Aziz retorted.
“We’re not here to play games, Aziz. I don’t have time to fuck around. She told me all about it. She tried finding you again because she had some additional questions for you. Then she left the country abruptly. I had a little chat with our ambassador. He can be a real prick, by the way. He proceeded to tell me how our mutual friend in the government filed a personal complaint with the U.S. embassy. My question; is why would he even complain? She didn’t bother anyone in your government. Why did you harass her?” Colin stepped towards the shriveled old man in a menacing fashion.
“She was causing trouble. She was following business associates of mine around city. Asking questions that had nothing to do with her. She is lucky one of my associates did not kill her.”
“What was it about her investigation that made you nervous, Aziz?” Sean cut in.
“Don’t play dumb with me you arrogant American. You know who she follow. I have no doubt that she told you that she follow Quasim. Quasim had contacts all over city. Don’t pretend with me. I don’t like games either. I have been playing them for too long as is.”
Sean watched the old man’s movements closely. He was sure Aziz was lying.. Before he arrived in Cairo, Sean had faxed Colin the after-action report Anna put together prior to disappearing in Las Vegas. Sean thought it would be a good idea for Colin to see it before he arrived. The report had been an eye opener for Colin, and had helped him to put together some of the pieces of his relationship with Aziz that previously did not seem to fit. What had appeared as senility over the years, now looked to be a carefully choreographed plan to throw anyone with any curiosity off the trail.
Sean showed Colin that he had been duped by the old man for ten plus years. What appeared to Colin over the years as a mutual give-and-take of information was actually a one-way street. The old man had been hiding information, and most likely had someone murder Quasim in order to keep the trail cold. Sean and Colin were now trying to figure out why.
“What kind of games are you referring to, Aziz? The ones where Quasim’s lackeys try to kill us by blowing us up with suicidal maniacs driving TNT laden bikes?” Colin asked with brazen sarcasm.
“Are we going to go through this again, Colin? How many times have I speak out against Quasim and others like him. I have spent my whole life trying to counter their disgusting destruction.”
“And Aman?” Colin asked.
“Where is this leading, Colin? You know Aman and I have been friends for decades. I have not talked to him in many years. He has been busy with Zachariah’s career. Aman is good man. How much money he has put back to this city fighting the murderers that run through streets?” He gestured dramatically towards the outer walls, and the stark poverty that lay in the alley below them.
“Let’s just say I’ve had a religious awakening over the last few days, Aziz. I had a friendly discussion yesterday with your friend in the Egyptian government.” Colin let the information sink in, waiting for a reaction. When the old man kept quiet he continued, “He was not happy with what you did with the information he gave you. I told him the trouble it could cause between our two governments if the truth came out. Your officials all claim to be pious observers of the Koran, but they are no different than ours. You threaten to cut off the hand that feeds them so they talk, just like ours do.” The old man was shifting uncomfortably on the floor, his head looking everywhere except at the two Americans standing above him. He took another pass on his opportunity to speak.
Colin continued in a quiet, matter of fact tone. “Aziz, he said he told you exactly when and where Sean was flying in to Cairo. He also said no one else in the government was told about the unannounced visit. That kind of narrows the list of suspects who could have ambushed the convoy. Wouldn’t you agree?”
The old man continued to look around the room in furtive glances, his mind clearly attempting to make sense of the situation. After thirty seconds his head dropped in a gesture of defiance and his jaw locked tight. Blood began trickling out of his lower lip. The velvet voice of earlier was replaced with a bitter diatribe of a betrayed old man. “That bastard!” The words spat out of his mouth as quickly as he could fire them. “I knew I should have had him taken care of.”
Sean’s hand reflexively gripped his pistol tighter at the old man’s change in tone. He injected himself into the conversation again. “Well, you missed your opportunity, and now you will have to pay the price. We know all about you, Aziz. Just make this easy on yourself and give us the final piece. What are you after? What are you and Aman up to?” Sean leaned towards him, his large frame towering over the kneeling man.
“You have no idea what you are up against. Aman is a great man, and his protégé will help bring about peace between Christians and Muslims for the fir
st time in centuries.”
“Peace through killing? I know it’s your favorite modus operandi,”Sean shot back.
“As if that is different than what you have done through the centuries? Please do not give me any lectures. Not peace through killing, but peace on our terms. With Aman, your new President will have true believer giving him advice. They will not cave to Israel’s every plea. I just be sure that Aman gets to that place where he can help change things. I know that bitch you sent over was after dirty information on my people. If I have to kill you to prevent you from finishing her work, it does not bother me. I am too close to witnessing history. And besides, Allah will reward me.” The old man stopped abruptly, realizing he had probably spoken too much.
Colin stepped back into the conversation, “What is your relationship with Aman? Is he a member of the Brotherhood of the Caliphate?”
The old man wiped his brow and began sweating despite the coolness of the massive room. “Does it matter? He is devout Muslim, a great man who has sacrificed his entire life by working in your godless country.”
“You did not answer my question. Is he a member of the Brotherhood of the Caliphate?”
“Of course he is!” The old man spat it out in a frustrated tone. “All these men like Quasim and the rest of them, they do nothing but fight each other for the honor to be first in line to be screwed by U.S. and the Europeans.” His arms flung around as if he was about to fall off a ledge, his voice hysterical as he continued. “The Muslim Brotherhood has brought nothing but pain to its people. I have worked my whole life trying to fix problems caused by the clash of our cultures.”
“You are claiming your own little brotherhood just wants peace?” Sean asked.
“Someday, yes. But hear my words. There will be one final reckoning. It will be swift and violent, but aftermath will be peace.” The bony finger wagged from side to side. The final words were said with supreme confidence.
“How did you first meet Aman?” Colin asked the question as an afterthought. He realized that they had never discussed it before.
The old man’s face returned to serenity. He was glad to be done with the geo-political discussion.
“One of the others brought him into Brotherhood. Sometime in the 1950s. We became very close over the years. We shared passion for horses. In the early years he was always coming back to Egypt looking for stallions he could run in the States. I trained them for him.”
“You trained his horses here, or in the U.S.?” Colin asked.
“Here, of course. Well, I went to States a few times to help him pick out American bred horses for breeding, but I lose interest. The best horses always come from here.” His scrawny chest puffed up in pride.
Colin and Sean exchanged surprised glances. In his years of dealing with Aziz, Colin had never heard him mention visiting the United States. He was either misspeaking, confused, or accidentally saying something he had never admitted to previously.
Colin pressed the matter. “I didn’t know you visited my country, Aziz. You should have said something earlier. When did you visit?” Colin returned to a friendly and harmless tone.
“Only once, and it was years earlier. I hardly remember it now.”
***
Aziz waived his hand in a dismissive fashion. The feigned attempt at aloofness failed miserably, and he knew it. He looked at the two Americans standing in front of him and summoned all his strength to remain calm. He was too old to be playing these head games with them, he told himself. He knew he had already spoken too much. His attempt at lecturing them had been out of a great need to be heard. After years of hiding and suppressing his true mission, he had faltered ever so slightly and let his emotions have a voice. He chided himself for his impulsive outburst. It was the one time when he needed to be strongest, and he was failing. He now realized what he needed to do next.
Aziz resigned himself to his fate. He was so close to witnessing it; the beginning of a new period, but he would not see it after all. Trying to stay alive for a few more days would be childish, selfish, and may give them the opportunity to pry further. The fools did not have enough information to stop Aman’s plan, and Aziz knew if he were dead the trail would go cold. His wrinkled face softened its hardened edges for his final acting job. He would have to watch from the heavens as history unfolded.
“Forgive me, Colin, but I am old and tired. Do you mind if I pour myself a cup of tea? My body is aching from its morning duty to Allah.” Aziz’s body creaked as he stood up, and he motioned towards the corner of the room where a small, portable stove was set up on the only patch of tile in the vast room. A pot rested on top, simmering quietly and releasing its heat into a vent in the ceiling. Sean immediately made his way over to the corner first. A quick search found nothing of any danger.
“Would you like me to pour you some?” Sean asked, matching the suddenly subdued tone of the old man. The stove was giving off an intense heat. The old man must like his tea scalding hot, Sean thought.
Aziz shuffled over to the corner, motioning for Sean to step back, “No, my boy. There are some things I still do for myself. Not many, but this one of them.” He waited for Sean to step back a few more feet to make sure he would have enough time to do the deed.
“Allah akbar.” (God is great.) Aziz grabbed the kettle of scalding hot water, raised his head to the ceiling, and poured the entire pot of liquid fire down his throat and over his face. His eyes were aflame in agony, and the burning substance stifled his yell as it ravaged his vocal cords and singed his skin.
Even if his decrepit body could have survived the raw pain that was being inflicted on it, he would have been unable to ever speak again. It was a moot point as the searing liquid jolted his system, causing his weak heart to instantly go into cardiac arrest, as he knew it would. The blistering pain ravaged his body as the exploding of his chest overwhelmed the searing heat on his face.
The two Americans lunged for him in a panic, and began a wasted attempt at reviving him. The brief moment of excruciating pain was worth it to Aziz as he looked into his enemy’s eyes and saw their looks of frustration through his scorched pupils. This was his final vision. His eyes closed, and his body succumbed to the self-inflicted wounds within seconds. His last thoughts were of how far they had advanced from their humble beginnings when they first began their visits to America. He prayed that Aman and Zachariah had the fortitude to finish the job.
Sean dropped the body in disgust and pushed it away from him as if it carried the plague. He now realized something that should have previously caught his attention. There were no glasses or mugs.
Chapter 37
May 1963
Flying dirt obscured the view through the binoculars for a brief second. Aman adjusted the focus as the seven horses burst out of the gate in a simultaneous flurry of hooves. His hands unconsciously shook from the blast of nature’s fury, even though he was in his owners’ box in the grandstands and unable to feel the horses’ power. He waved off the waiter in the white coat with his right hand. No matter how many times he refused a mint julep, they continually badgered him on their next go around. Over indulgence in alcohol was just one of the many troubles this country had, he thought. He had no intention of joining the ranks of all these idiots.
A woman in the box beside him brushed up against his arm, knocking his binoculars askew for a few seconds. She profusely apologized as the whiskey in her hand splashed a few drops onto the wooden floor. Aman stared at her, and said nothing, but his icy glare left little doubt as to his thoughts. He adjusted his body so he would not come in contact with her again, and turned his attention back to the race. The horses were romping their way down the long backside of the track, and the massive crowd stood simultaneously to cheer on their chosen horse. Aman followed suit, bringing his binoculars back to bear on the track.
He silently cursed to himself. His horse was last and already losing ground with each stride. It was a six-furlong race, not even a full lap around the track, and was no
t a race meant to be won by being patient and trying to come from the back of the pack. The horses rounded first turn in pairs. The first two leaders were followed a few strides behind by the next two horses, and then the final pairing. Aman’s horse was now four lengths behind the last pair, and his lone straggler was struggling mightily to keep up. They made their way around the final turn and headed towards the finish line. Aman sat his binoculars on his chair as they approached his seating area.
One of the horses in the final pairing suddenly exploded forward. His hind legs tore forward in a burst of energy that ignited the crowd to a pitched frenzy. It quickly zipped by the second pairing, and set its sights on the first pair. Could it catch up to them before the finish line? The chestnut stallion kicked into an even higher gear for the final sprint, peeling off the distance in incredible time. It tore between the two final horses, and broke the finish line a split second before them. Aman was impressed. He reached into his program to find out who owned the horse. His own stallion crossed the finish line last. When Aziz returned he would have to have a word with him. The race was secondary to their main objective, but he did not appreciate being completely embarrassed. It was unacceptable.
The crowd sat back down, so Aman took the opportunity to stand. He peered through his binoculars at the stables on the backside of the track. His left hand casually patted his slim green tie back into its rightful place. The breeze that tunneled through the covered grandstand eliminated any semblance of heat.
He focused his binoculars on the large pickup truck with the words “Sheik Stables” blazoned in gold across the side. Attached to the truck was a horse trailer with some special modifications. He watched the men moving around it, guarding it carefully. The trailer was designed by one of his mob connections in Las Vegas who did not ask questions. It was needed to haul cargo that was abnormally heavy, and the wheels were specially designed to support the additional bulk being loaded onto it. The men were finishing up their job from the previous evening. The trailer carried the gold that Aziz brought over from Cairo.
Agent of Influence: A Thriller Page 26