by Toby Tate
Somehow, though, his words of encouragement didn’t stop the little warning bell that was now going off somewhere in the back of her mind.
Chapter Ten
From the air, the terminals of the King Khalid International Airport outside Riyadh looked like four side-by-side triangles, long bottle necks sticking out of them with planes lined up on both sides. One of the largest airports in the world, it had been used by the US Air Force during the Gulf War for aerial refueling tanker operations and was designated as an alternate landing site for the space shuttle.
They landed at nine p.m. Belize time, which made it six a.m. the following day in Saudi Arabia. Gabe had reset the clocks on all her electronics accordingly and knew she would be feeling the jet lag later on.
As they filed out of the walkway, she was impressed by the architecture, which reminded her somewhat of the Sydney Opera House, with a multi-level ceiling inset with rows of windows, allowing the morning sun to fill the building. She could see plants and palm trees lining the walls, intricate fountains, and huge pillars everywhere. It looked like an opulent Arabian palace. In the center of the building she knew there was also an active mosque. As they walked out into the terminal they saw three men, one holding a sign that said “G. Powers” in big block letters.
A welcoming committee. How thoughtful.
Gabe checked her abaya and made sure her face was covered, although she felt like ripping it off and strangling someone with it. Since they couldn’t see her face, she didn’t bother smiling. For now, she would let “the men” do all the talking. She wouldn’t want to make their heads explode by saying something intelligent.
As if he read her mind, Gordon whispered, “Easy now. This will all be over soon.”
They made their way over to the three men as one of them extended a hand. “You must be Gordon Powers,” the man said with heavily accented English. “It has been some time since we last met. I am Faisal Khalid al-Shamari.” The men kissed each other on both cheeks as they grasped hands in a formal greeting.
“So your name’s not actually Muhammed, then?” Gordon asked.
Al-Shamari smiled, and then turned to Gabe, bowed and said, “It is a pleasure, Ms. Slocum.” The other two men stood stoically by, watching the proceedings with seeming disinterest. “May I have your baggage claim tickets?” Al-Shamari took the tickets and handed them to one of the men, who turned and disappeared toward the baggage claim area.
“Please follow me−we have a car waiting,” the scientist said. “Your belongings will be taken care of.”
Gabe and Gordon glanced at each other and followed the man through the terminal.
“Don’t we need to go through customs?” Gordon asked.
Without turning, al-Shamari replied, “That has all been taken care of.”
People eyed them as they walked by, probably recognizing them as American, Gabe thought. Americans were not among the most loved in the Middle East.
As they walked, Gabe couldn’t shake the feeling that something was not quite right. She glanced sideways at Gordon, wondering if he could feel it, too.
They made their way outside, where a stretch limo waited at the curb. The driver was already holding open the door, ushering them inside with the sweep of a hand.
“Well, you certainly didn’t skimp on the transportation,” Gordon said, stepping into the back of the limo, Gabe following close behind.
The door was shut and the driver, al-Shamari and the other man got in the front seat of the car. Gabe noticed that there was a glass partition between them and the front seat. As soon as the two men got in, the car drove away from the curb in a hurry. Al-Shamari glanced back at them, and then whispered something to the driver.
That was when the doors locked and smoke began rising in wisps from the air-conditioning vents of the limo, becoming thicker as it filled the space. Gabe immediately noticed the sweet smell—chloroform. They would be unconscious in minutes. She frantically began trying to open the doors, clawing at the locking mechanism, but to no avail. She turned to see Gordon doing the same. Al-Shamari had done something to the doors, effectively sealing them in.
“Al-Shamari, what the hell is this?” Gordon yelled, banging on the glass partition. “I thought we had a deal?”
Gabe tried to cover her mouth and nose with her abaya, but how long could she hold her breath? She looked around the car for anything she could use for a filter. There was nothing. They were trapped.
She looked over at her partner, who was looking back at her as she fought to keep her eyes open.
“What are they going to do with us, Gordon?” she asked.
“They won’t hurt us, don’t worry,” he said, “They need us.” His eyes were drooping and his speech slurred. He would be out in seconds.
Gabe fought to keep herself conscious as the drug slowly fogged her brain, but she knew it was a losing battle. She glanced toward the front in time to see the man in the passenger seat look back at her and smile, just before everything faded to black.
Chapter Eleven
Gabe woke up lying on a cold, hard surface, a fluorescent light shining in her face. Her head throbbed from the chloroform and her abaya had been removed. In fact, as she lifted her head and glanced down, she saw that her clothes were gone and she now wore nothing but her underwear. There were straps across her chest, hips and legs. She tried to lift her arms, but they were strapped down, as well.
She turned to the right and then to the left. Across the room on another table lay Powers in nothing but boxers, strapped to a gurney exactly like hers. He was staring right at her.
“Glad to see you’re awake,” he said. “We seem to be in somewhat of a predicament.”
Gabe rolled her eyes. “You think?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”
“That’s what you said at the airport. I’m beginning to have a few doubts, Gordon.”
As he was about to reply, a door opened and two men and a woman walked in. One of the men was one she had seen at the airport, now wearing green scrubs and a mask and pushing a surgical table covered by a white cloth. Gabe did not want to know what was under the cloth.
“Ah, I see you’re both awake,” al-Shamari said. “That is good. We can begin right away.”
“Begin what, al-Shamari? What the hell is this? You told me you were going to give me information on the whereabouts of the boy.”
The scientist stopped at the foot of Gordon’s table and gazed down at him. “You Americans are all so boisterous and arrogant. You make demands, you lie and deceive, make wars in countries where you are not wanted, and for what? To make the world safe for capitalism? There is one thing I want from you, Mr. Powers, and that is the location of Cain.”
“Cain? Who the hell is Cain?”
“Cain is the name we have given ‘the boy,’ as you call him. You have hidden him somewhere, and my government has given me the thankless job of finding out where. I am a physicist, Mr. Powers—a scientist. Not a man of espionage or a soldier. I have no taste for such things. Yet, the assignment has been given to me, and I cannot refuse it. I’m sure you understand my problem.”
Gabe wanted to say something, anything that would get them out of this situation. But she knew better. For her to speak would only make matters worse.
The man with the mask pushed the surgical table to the side of her gurney and stopped. Gabe glanced at him. His eyes were dark and cold, but he seemed to be smiling behind the mask. He grabbed one corner of the cloth and lifted it from the table like a magician revealing a card trick. Steel instruments lie in neat rows, ready to cut, slice, pinch and probe tender flesh. Her flesh.
Al-Shamari said, “Since you are trained to withstand pain, Mr. Powers, and we are running short on time, I’m afraid we’re going to have to begin with the young lady. The faster you give us the information we need, the sooner her pain will end.”
The man with the mask stepped around the surgical table and stood above her. The woman who had been standin
g by the door walked over to stand by the masked man and glanced down at Gabe. The woman was beautiful, though Gabe could only see the brown eyes above the mask. Her eyes conveyed sadness.
The masked man reached down and picked up what looked like a pair of small wire cutters, and then said something in Arabic to the woman, who pushed Gabe’s hand down flat on the Gurney.
“Now, I will ask you, Mr. Powers,” al-Shamari said. “Where is Cain?”
“How in the hell would I know where Cain is? That’s what you were supposed to tell me. Don’t do this, al-Shamari. Let the woman go and we can talk like civilized people, here.”
“Civilized people!?”al-Shamari shouted, his voice booming in the small room. “Do you think I enjoy doing this? I want to know where Cain is, Mr. Powers, and I will do whatever I must to find that murdering pig. If you do not cooperate, we will be forced to remove the fingers of your young cousin, who I am inclined to believe is CIA. And that will only be the beginning. We will continue cutting her body to pieces until you tell us what we want to know. Then, we will begin on yours.”
Gabe could see no way out of this. She could feel her heart beating like a jackhammer as cold sweat beaded on her forehead.
“Gordon, there must be something you can give them,” she said. “Anything. Just do something.”
“Yes, Gordon,” al-Shamari said. “Listen to Ms. Slocum. She is a wise woman.”
Silence.
Gabe saw the masked man move the cutters toward her as the woman continued to push her hand flat, preventing any movement. Gabe closed her eyes tight and prepared herself mentally for the agony she knew would follow.
“Wait,” she heard Gordon say. “I don’t know where Cain is, but I know a way to find him.”
Gabe opened her eyes and saw that the masked man had stopped the cutters inches from her fingers.
Chapter Twelve
Gabe held her breath as Gordon told al-Shamari his plan.
“There is a chip inside Cain’s body, an undetectable GPS transponder attached to his cerebral cortex, and it can only be located by a computer program, which I brought with me.”
Was Gordon telling the truth? She had never heard about this chip. Then again, she wasn’t privy to all the information on Cain. She glanced at al-Shamari and saw his face flush red.
“You are lying. We have already tried implanting a chip. Cain’s body destroyed it.”
He turned to the masked man and nodded. Gabe felt the cold stainless steel cutters touch the sides of her finger.
“I’m not lying, al-Shamari. But I swear to God, if you hurt Mary, there is no place in the world you can hide where we won’t find you and take you out.”
“Don’t threaten me, Mr. Powers. I will do anything to protect my country and my family. That includes giving my life.”
The cutters began to squeeze and Gabe could feel hot blood run down her finger, but she refused to cry out. She wouldn’t give these bastards the satisfaction.
“Al-Shamari, listen to me. We found a way of implanting the chip so Cain’s body wouldn’t destroy it.”
The scientist raised his hand and the cutting stopped a micro-second away from snipping through the bone. But her tormentor maintained pressure on the cutters, ready to finish the job with a mere squeeze, and Gabe grimaced as she fought back the urge to scream.
“What do you mean?” al-Shamari asked.
“Our scientists found a way to grow skin from the host body around the chip. When they implant it, the body thinks it belongs there and ignores it. There’s only one thing.”
“What is that?”
“The GPS can only trace the chip within a radius of a few miles. We have to have some general idea of where he is. But once we learn that, we can locate him with nearly pinpoint accuracy.”
“How do you propose to locate him?”
“We find out where he went when he left Saudi Arabia, and then follow the trail.”
“We have already tried that.”
“I hate to say it, doctor, but you’re going to have to trust me on this.”
The Saudi scientist stood unblinking, staring down at Gordon in silence as Gabe began to reach the threshold of her tolerance for pain. The cutters had sliced through the flesh of her ring finger, cutting through the nerves and touching the bone. Removing the finger would be as easy as trimming a tree branch. Yet she still refused to make a sound.
Then al-Shamari turned to the man in the mask and gave an order in Arabic. The masked man didn’t seem happy about the order as he continued to squeeze the cutters and Gabe gritted her teeth against the pain. Al-Shamari gave the order a second time, raising his voice another decibel. The cutters released and Gabe felt a wave of relief wash over her. The woman who had been holding her hand flat immediately went to a bay of cabinets, opened the doors and removed a roll of bandages and surgical tape. She bandaged the finger quickly and Gabe thought she could see the woman smiling behind the mask as she cut the tape, then began to remove her restraints.
Once they had finished, the masked man left the room, pushing the instrument table in front of them.
Al-Shamari turned to Gordon as he sat upright on the gurney. “I apologize for this barbarity,” al-Shamari said. “But I had no choice.” Gabe saw him glance at the closed door as he continued. “They have threatened to kill my family unless I find Cain. Are you certain you can do as you say?”
Gordon was rubbing his arms where the straps had been. Gabe could feel her finger throbbing as she sat upright, her head swimming as the blood rushed out. The young woman put a blanket around Gabe’s shoulders. She had removed her mask and Gabe saw that she was indeed beautiful, and had a kind face.
“I’m certain,” Gordon said. “But I’m going to need the cooperation of your government resources. My government still seems to be intent on pretending this whole thing doesn’t exist.”
“You will have it. But I must caution you on something, Mr. Powers.”
“What’s that?”
“Do not cross me or my government.”
“I have no intention of doing so, Dr. al-Shamari. We want to find this guy as badly as you do.”
“There is also something else.”
“And that is?”
“Cain is the most dangerous killer on the planet. When he realizes you are tracking him, he will resolve himself to destroy you. And he never, ever, fails.”
Chapter Thirteen
Born and raised in Saudi Arabia, Lydia Abboud came from a family that was not as conservative as some. She had been encouraged from a young age to further her education, and at one point even learned how to drive, while visiting relatives in London. But since driving was not allowed for women in Saudi Arabia, she rarely had a chance to make use of those skills. When she turned eighteen, Lydia’s father, himself a biologist, had seen in her an interest in science and, rather than marry her off, he sent her to King Abdullah University of Science and Technology in Thuwal.
Lydia decided to specialize in genetics, and to the chagrin of many of her male classmates, excelled in her studies. She graduated at the top of her class, first as an undergrad, then as a graduate student. She caught the attention of one of her professors, who happened to be a friend of Faisal Khalid al-Shamari, and he recommended her as a research assistant. A year later, she was here, working by his side on the Date Palm Genome Project, or DPGP, building physical, genetic, and cytological maps of living organisms. She felt that she had truly been blessed, afforded the chance to do something with her life and to give hope to other women in Saudi Arabia, that they too could become more than just objects.
She had also spent her life, as did her family, hiding the fact that they were Christians. Although they were tolerated more so than in some other Middle Eastern countries, she still endured the looks and questions from her neighbors about why she did not fast during Ramadan, or bow toward Mecca, or read the Koran. But she did follow the laws of the land, as backward as they often seemed to her, because the Bible commanded it.<
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Still, she loved her country and her people, and would never think of leaving Saudi Arabia.
After a year of working on the project, he came. At the time, he looked to be a boy of about twelve, but they had told her he was much younger, only a few months old, in fact. She was disbelieving at first. But over time, she had seen the astounding growth, both physical and psychological. He had become a full-grown man in only a year’s time. Had she not seen it with her own eyes, she would never have believed it.
Lydia, along with the rest of the staff working on what had been dubbed “The Cain Project,” was sworn to secrecy. She was instructed to never speak of anything related to Cain outside of the institute, or she and her family would suffer the consequences.
When Cain was only a few months old, the military men had come and began their training. At first, Lydia had no idea what was going on. She began to see changes in Cain, and it frightened her. He had already seemed cold and emotionless, but he became darker, more distrusting of the staff, cunning and dangerous. She realized that they were training him to kill. They set up a special training facility for him at the institute where she and Dr. al-Shamari could monitor him.
Then, one day, she had arrived at work and found the military men dead, along with the staff members from the institute who had been there. Cain was gone. She, al-Shamari and one other person were the only ones left who knew about the project. Unfortunately, that other party had been kept under lock and key since nearly the beginning of the Cain Project.
But that was about to change, Lydia thought as she walked through the corridors of the institute.
She came to the passageway locked by way of a magnetic key card, accessible only to her and Dr. al-Shamari, and swiped the card. She went inside the section that had been converted into a living space, complete with living room, kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. Sunlight filtered through the bars on the small windows on one side of the living room. The man that occupied the space sat watching a flat-screen TV on an old sofa and turned when he heard Lydia come in. She looked at him and smiled.