The Aisha Prophecy

by Maxim, John R.

  “If so, we say that it was one of your twins. They are known to ride in trunks, are they not?”

  Harry started to say no. Dumbest thing he’d ever heard. It was true that in a car, one would always stay low if they had a task to perform. Normally in the back seat or in its well. They liked to avoid being seen both at once. Kessler’s answer, on reflection, didn’t seem so far-fetched. One might very well have ridden in the trunk.

  Harry asked, “Where’s Sadik, by the way?”

  “In with Niki,” said Elizabeth. “Settling her down. He’s promised her a voice in what we decide to do with that Saudi flight money. He’s told her that some good may yet come of this.”

  “Hmmph,” said Harry. “A few more clinics, most likely. But that will have to wait until we get to Geneva. Everything’s there. Nothing’s here.”

  “Um… actually,” said Kessler, “you sent copies to Geneva. I have kept an unscrambled original.”

  “You kept it because…?”

  “Lest the dog eat it or some other misfortune. Mistrust was not an issue. Only prudence.”

  “Lest the earth should open up and swallow Geneva?” He said, “Never mind. I guess I’m glad that you did. We find ourselves with a working computer.”

  “The laptop, yes. But there is another. Clew’s State Department limo comes well equipped. It folds out from under the seat.”

  “Yeah, we saw it. Don’t go near it. Every keystroke on those units is recorded at State. Speaking of which, where is Roger?”

  “Still outside, I believe. I’ll go get him.”

  “I’ll go,” said Elizabeth in a voice that seemed distant. She said, “I could use some fresh air.”

  Kessler asked, with his eyes, whether she would like company. She answered with her own that she would not. Such unspoken exchanges were not new to them. He saw that she’d retreated into herself. He’d seen it before. Many times. For all that she was, she was still a woman whose emotions would sometimes come in conflict with reason. She would say, “I’m going to go for a walk,” or, as in this case, “I could use some fresh air.” He would offer to go with her, but only as a means of saying he was there for her if needed. Her need was to be by herself.

  She picked up her purse from the chair where she’d left it. She said, “I might even go for a swim.”

  FORTY ONE

  Clew had seen the police car. He’d stayed out of sight. There was still some chance that his name and position would remain unnoted by the local authorities and, by extension, the media. He saw them leave. He saw Elizabeth come out. He saw her pacing back and forth in front of the house, her arms tightly folded as if hugging herself.

  As she walked slowly past one of the coach lights, he saw the glisten of a tear on her cheek. She turned away. Her back was now to him. He moved toward the front door as quietly as he could, not wanting to intrude on her moment. But she heard him. Or she sensed him. “They’re waiting for you, Roger.” She avoided showing her face.

  Clew appeared at the door to the library. He had his briefcase in hand. Harry said to him before he could ask, “It was not an unfriendly visit, Roger. What have you been up to outside?”

  Clew said, “You asked about Haskell’s phone and whether I intended to share it.” He produced it and set it on a leather-topped table. He explained what was on it, all those photos of the prince, all the others detailing Leland’s room and his possessions. “You can look at them later. There’s more.”

  Next, from his briefcase came a video camera. He said, “This is Haskell’s. I just got it from the trunk. Apparently, he taped the whole thing. ”

  Whistler saw that it was dented and the eyepiece was gone. He asked, “It still functions?”

  “It does. I’ve played it. Haskell wasn’t alone. You’ll see him talking to a man who he calls Gilhooley. He’s telling Gilhooley how he wants this done. Otherwise, he’s narrating what he tapes. He’s structured this tape as a formal presentation, subject, I presume, to some editing. He paints himself as an avenger of crimes against Islam in general and against certain Saudis in particular. He names all of us as we arrive in our cars. He names the girls. He points out Aisha in particular. The Darvi girls are her handmaidens. He points out the prince’s thieving daughter – his words. The tape shows Elizabeth, but he doesn’t name her. Why? Stay tuned. That’s coming up.”

  Clew reached into his briefcase again.

  He produced two sheets of soiled notepaper that had been crumpled and folded, well worn. “Two versions of the prince’s suicide note. One is a copy. That’s the one you’ve seen. It’s pretty much as Leland recited it. The other’s the original of an alternate version. We wondered why the first made no mention of Stride. In this one, he does quite a job on her. It’s just one extra paragraph. Want to hear it?”

  Kessler leaned forward. “By all means.”

  Clew cleared his throat and read aloud:

  “The worst of the worst is Elizabeth Stride. She is the lesbian whore who leads the Nasreens. This makes her a whore among whores, only worse. She kidnaps innocent young Muslim girls and rapes them in the way that lesbians rape so that they are forever lost to God. She then has them murdered which is why we can’t find them. She murders them so that when she dies herself, they can serve as her sex slaves in hell.”

  Kessler wondered, idly, why slut was left out. He asked Harry, “If the men get seventy-two virgins, why must she provide her own sex slaves?”

  “Well, at least,” said Harry, “she got a promotion. Sadik’s wife now works for her.”

  Clew signaled time out. “Can we hold the wisecracks? I don’t think you’ll hear Elizabeth laughing.”

  “No, we won’t,” said Kessler. “Proceed.”

  “Haskell had to have dictated both versions,” said Clew. “I guess he was unhappy with her at the time. But, as you’ll see when you play his tape, he had a big change of heart. You’ll hear him place a call to the bar at Mangiamo in order to lure her up to the front where she wouldn’t be harmed by the blast.”

  Harry asked, “He had these on his person?”

  “Surprised me, too. You’d think he would have stashed them. But he really had to hustle to get here from the Grove if he wanted to catch all of us under one roof. Nor did he expect to get spotted by me because the blast was supposed to have killed me.”

  “And you took these from him? By yourself? Without help?”

  Clew heard the implication that Haskell was beyond him unless Haskell was either dead or dying. He gave Harry a look. He said, “I managed.”

  Really!

  Clew reddened. “I said I managed. I’m here. Let it go.”

  Harry smiled. “I begin to be very impressed by you, Roger. Unaided even by that Beretta in your briefcase?”

  “I stuck it in his fucking mouth. Happy now?”

  “Still impressed.”

  “Might I ask,” said Clew, reaching into his bag again, “what you intend to do with that prick?”

  Harry didn’t answer. “What else do you have?”

  Clew was groping for something at the bottom of his briefcase. He removed the dossiers on Haskell and the others in order to more easily find it.

  Harry said, “I’ll need those. Leave them with me.”

  “You’re not going to tell me how you mean to use them?”

  “It’s a work in progress, Roger. Be patient.”

  “That limo goes back to D.C. in the morning.”

  “We’ll be sure to disinfect it. Have no fear.”

  Clew stacked the three thick dossiers on the table. He found what he was looking for, another video camera, this one much smaller than Haskell’s. “This was in Haskell’s pocket. I don’t know how he got it. It belongs to someone named – sounds like Moolazeem - or at least that’s what he seemed to be calling himself. His narration was in Arabic. I don’t speak the language. But I did pick up a word here and there. Rasha’s name, for one. Stride’s, for another. And he said the word ‘Hasheem’ more than once. The Hasheem a
re…”

  “Saudi heretic hunters,” said Kessler, frowning. “And that is to say, Aisha hunters.”

  Clew said, “In fairness, most Saudis detest them. They’re no more fond of fanatics than we are.”

  “Then they’ll be pleased to know that there’s one less,” said Harry. “That one’s dead. Sergeant Ragland just told us.”

  Kessler said, “This is serious. Of all those who are seeking the source of the prophecy, the Hasheem would be the most zealous. That is true of all those seeking Rasha as well. Nor have they forgotten Elizabeth Stride. It’s Hasheem that put the bounty on her. Ten years now, but she is still high on their list. If this man has reported that he’s located them, believe me, many more will be coming.”

  Harry raised a hand. “Let’s get a translation so we know what we’re up against. Let’s get Elizabeth back in here.”

  Clew said, “She looked a little fragile outside. It might be better if we have Sadik translate. Or is he still Emil Freundlisch? I lose track.”

  “He’s Sadik,” said Harry. He said, “Martin, please get him. While you’re at it, get your disk. The night’s young. We shouldn’t waste it.”

  Clew asked, “You still have it? The master?”

  “Thanks to Martin who is famously prudent.”

  “So… is this where I get that look that you promised?”

  “You get to watch Martin, the good doctor and myself decide how to spend ten billion dollars.”

  Sadik read the alternate suicide note. “Has she seen this? No? Just as well.”

  Both of the video cameras were digital. He removed the memory cards from each and was about to play Haskell’s on the laptop computer.

  Kessler said, “No. The other one first. It’s of more immediate concern.”

  Sadik played it, translating what seemed relevant as he went. He said to Kessler, “You’re right; he’s Hasheem. His sheik had sent him to Hilton Head Island, but according to this, no one knows that he’s here. By here, I mean here in Belle Haven.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “He’s reporting to his sheik by means of this tape. He’s explaining why he hasn’t used his cell phones. He refers to himself as Mulazim the Greek. Never as simply Mulazim. He’s quite full of himself in a witless sort of way. He calls himself the hunter who never leaves trails. Well, he certainly didn’t in this case.”

  Sadik said to Kessler, “As to your first concern, he says he’s found Rasha and an ‘even bigger fish.’ He’s found the Black Angel, Elizabeth Stride. There’s no mention of Aisha, however. They can come and get Rasha and they can have Stride, but he wants a guarantee that he’ll get half the bounty no matter how many they send. He also wants the reward the prince posted for Rasha. Only then will he reveal the location to which he has tracked them. He insists that although he is loyal to Hasheem, God himself told him he should have those rewards. That it’s God who’s been guiding his hand.”

  “Say again,” said Kessler. “No mention of Belle Haven?”

  “He doesn’t even say they’ve left Hilton Head.”

  “Nor will he,” said Harry. “God got tired of guiding.”

  “So I had assumed. He was killed in the restaurant? This says he’d gone in to get some footage of his quarry, but the tape ends a few seconds later.”

  The camera had recorded the sound of the blast and it showed the effect of the shock wave. It knocked many down, Mulazim with them. He tried to get up. He was knocked down again. The camera recorded a squeal and a thud. His camera was still running, pointing this way and that as it might if Mulazim was thrashing about. For an instant it recorded his own twitching fingers until it rose up from his hand and moved off.

  “Someone took it from him,” said Sadik. “Was that Haskell?”

  “No, Haskell wasn’t there, but he did end up with it. Is there any indication that Mulazim knew Haskell or that this might have been a joint venture?”

  “None whatever. He paid Haskell no notice. But Haskell noticed him and his video camera and must have sent someone to get it.”

  Harry said, “He did, but why would you say that? There’s no reference to that on this video.”

  Sadik touched his finger to the rewind button. He was searching for a scene not far back. He hit Play. He’d found it. Mulazim in the alley near the service entrance door. The sound coming through is Kessler’s rendition of the song he had threatened to sing, Sixteen Candles. Mulazim’s angry at a cook who would not let him in. He takes it out on Elizabeth’s car. It shows his shoe rising up to smash the Subaru’s headlight. The camera backs up to take in the result. Sadik reached to touch the pause button.

  Harry shrugged. “A fit of pique. What of it, Rajib?”

  “Look past the car. Look across the street. Look who’s taping this scene from that bus stop.”

  Harry looked. He smiled. “You have a good eye.” He was looking at Haskell and Gilhooley.

  He said to Kessler, “So this turkey worked alone. He’s reported nothing. That’s one less concern. But the Saudi Hasheem will learn soon enough that one of their number was killed in Belle Haven. Assume they’ll send others if only to learn what might have led him here in the first place. It won’t matter. We’ll be long gone.”

  Clew asked Kessler, “That disk. Might the Hasheem be on it?”

  “Hard to tell. But Rasha might know.”

  “Has she gone to bed?”

  Harry said, “I would think that they all have by now. Martin, where’s your disk? Let’s get started.”

  Kessler drew a plastic sleeve from his pocket. He held it up for the rest of them to see. The label said: Roy Orbison. Greatest Hits from the Fifties. “Sixteen Candles,” said Kessler. “This is where I learned the words. The sleeve seemed a handy place to keep ten billion.”

  Harry threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. He said, “We really should have Elizabeth in here.”

  Kessler said, “Yes, we should. I’ll go get her.”

  FORTY TWO

  Kessler found her in the pool behind the main house. He didn’t see her at first, but he did see her purse and the shoes she’d changed into. She’d left them on the rim at the deepest end. He felt a sudden stab of alarm. Could he have misjudged her state of mind?

  But now he saw her. He saw why he’d almost missed her. She was sitting under the waterfall that washed gently down over natural rocks. The water came from the hot tub; it was comfortably warm. It flowed over Elizabeth’s head and shoulders. She had taken off her blouse. He watched her dip it in the pool several times in order to rinse off the soot. Now she was raising it over her head in the act of putting it back on.

  He was about to step backward, to allow her the moment. But she’d heard him. Or sensed him. Even under that cascading water.

  She said, “Come in and sit with me, Martin.”

  He’d stepped out of his loafers and put his watch and wallet in them. He placed the album jacket beneath his shoes so that it was fully concealed. She hadn’t yet looked in his direction. He used the ladder to ease himself into the water. He could have simply lowered himself from the edge, but that would have made a splash, however small. He didn’t think he should disturb her with a splash.

  Doing not much more than drifting, he moved in her direction until he felt the slope of the rocks underfoot. He slipped under the waterfall beside her. She didn’t speak, but she did lean against him. He thought about putting his arm around her, but the idea that he had to think about doing so suggested that perhaps he should not. Her own hands remained on her lap.

  She said quietly, “He wanted to play tennis.”

  Kessler felt sure that he understood her meaning. Sadik had told him what Haskell had said to her after he was thrown in the trunk. Sadik and Clew had lifted him. They’d shoved him in. And yet, according to Dr. Sadik, Haskell acted as if neither of those two were present. All of his attention was focused on her. He tried denying that he’d done what he’d done. Next he tried to explain why he’d done what he’d done. Al
l he wanted was a trade. None of this had to happen. Then just as the trunk lid was slammed down on him, he said his hope was that they could play tennis. Strange man.

  Now Elizabeth said, in that same quiet voice, “He has a home in Palm Beach.”

  It almost seemed that she wasn’t speaking to him. It was more as if she were remembering.

  “He says that it would suit me better than this one. He says this is a man’s house. His is softer and prettier.”

  Kessler hadn’t heard about this part of the exchange. Haskell was describing his house to her? It wouldn’t seem to have been the most opportune moment to describe one’s real estate holdings.

  “It has two tennis courts. One is clay. One is grass. He asked me if I’ve played much on grass.”

  This seemed even more unlikely to Kessler.

  “He has a yacht that he keeps there. He wasn’t going to tell me. He only wanted to talk about tennis. It was as if he was arguing with somebody else about what I’d like most about living there. He wanted to take me there and show me.”

  Kessler was beginning to grasp what had happened. He asked, “Elizabeth, where did this take place?”

  She answered with a small toss of one hand. The gesture was toward the garage. When she raised her hand to make it, he saw on her lap, the long thin blade of her curved Moroccan knife. It must have needed rinsing as well.

  She said, “I looked at him and I saw Aisha’s burns. I heard all the screams and the shouts and the sirens. I saw all of Aisha’s presents soaked through by the sprinklers. They’re still there. She never got to open even one of her presents. And this man’s still talking about tennis.”

  Kessler said nothing. But he did take her hand.

  She said, “It was just too much noise.”

  FORTY THREE

  Roger Clew had gone out to look for them both. He returned, reporting what he had seen. He supposed they’d decided not to bother with a shower with a warm waterfall at their disposal. They were out there sitting under it. Talking.