“We followed your advice and got away from the crowd, so now I bet you’re feeling a like a fool,” Doug said.
“I don’t know. Who is more foolish? The fool, or the fool that follows the fool?”
Doug gave each of his friends a look, then all three formed up around me.
“I don’t think you get it, asshole. Judgement day is here.”
“Oh, but I only see the three of you. Do have some other friends coming perhaps?”
“Do I really need to lay it out for you? Todd here was a defensive lineman for Florida State. He eats guys like you for breakfast,” Doug said.
Todd even had the gall to crack his knuckles and put on his best angry game face.
“Yeah, but I see he’s also been out of the game awhile, and I’m guessing by his present girth that he’s eaten way too many guys like me for breakfast. Honestly, it’s about time he switched back to oatmeal.”
Doug ignored my joke and proceeded to introduce jackass number three.
“And this badass is Jack. He does CrossFit,” he said, placing the emphasis on the final T before clenching his teeth and leering at me.
Again, my summation had been correct and Jack was indeed fit, and he could do pull-ups and dead lifts until he suffered from rhabdomyolysis and ended up in the hospital with a bunch of other CrossFit dupes, but he’d never be any better in a fight.
“That’s nice. Maybe he could roll an oversized truck tire out to the bar and get me another drink.”
“I don’t think you get it.”
“Oh, I get it. You’re trying to intimidate me with all this tough talk, but the way I see it, you jackasses are three of the biggest pussies I’ve ever met. I’ve spent my life around truly dangerous people, and let me tell you one thing they all have in common. They don’t talk about kicking ass. They just do it.”
“So let’s do this,” he said.
Seeing Doug’s enthusiasm almost made me feel bad for him. Clearly, he was insecure, or he wouldn’t have needed his two buddies along for backup—let alone been trying to engage in the most pointless fight of all time. Sadly, he was one of those all too plentiful assholes that spent his time terrorizing playgrounds, schools, and colleges until moving on to offices, bars, and nightclubs, all the while trying to build his self esteem on the belittlement of others. At some point, Doug and those like him hopefully learned the error of their ways through self enlightenment or, worse case scenario, by running headlong into the wall of reality—with reality being a bigger or tougher person just looking to give some asshole a beatdown. Right now, I was that wall.
“You, CrossFit. How much can you dead lift?”
“Two fifty—two sixty. Why?”
“I just wanted to make sure you could carry your friends here back to your hotel.”
“Shut the fuck up and throw down,” Doug said, angrily, before squaring off, moving back and forth on his feet, his hands up in front of him, obviously trying to look like a cage fighter.
“Honestly, I think saying throw down implies it’s a fight, but a fight implies that more than one opponent is engaged in conflict, and the way I see it, neither you nor the other two jackasses are going to land a single punch. So, let’s call it what it is. An exchange of knowledge—a learning exercise.”
“Hey, asshole, I did a year of mixed martial arts in college,” Doug said.
“Yeah, and Doug’s never lost a fight. He’s seriously gonna fuck you up. You should have left when you could,” Jack, the CrossFit guy, said.
“Fucking A,” Todd the football player added.
“So, I’m assuming all those lovely esteem building encounters were against smaller, weaker opponents who weren’t even looking for a fight, yet you, being the consummate asshole, gave it to them. What a sad way to live, and, worse still, it’s stupid, because you never know who is going to be your wall—your insurmountable obstacle that beats some desperately needed wisdom into your thick head. And what if I turned out to be that wall. I might be a lifelong martial artist and an ex-special operations soldier turned elite CIA operative who’s just looking to teach three assholes a lesson. Of course, if you’re lucky, I might just be a humble fragrance model, but the problem is you’ll never know until it’s too late.”
All three took a moment to quietly appraise me.
“Yeah, I know. I can see in your eyes that you’re starting to think about it, but the fact that I smell so good probably has you favoring the idea that I’m a fragrance model. Still, I should warn you, boys, that smells can be deceiving.”
“Oh shut the fuck up! You’re not going to talk your way out of this with a bunch of bullshit!”
“So, no guess as to my actual background?”
“I don’t need to guess, because I know you’re a fucking faggot.”
“Interesting, have we taken it all the way down to disparaging remarks about sexual preference? And, if I’m indeed a faggot, then why are you three haters here to teach me a lesson for hanging out with your female friend? That would mean I was a fag-hag and, therefore, no threat. Honestly, this lack of reasoning on your part doesn’t bode well for my faith in your abilities as attorneys.“
“We’re done talking, motherfucker!” Doug bellowed.
He came at me with an adequate, if not particularly powerful, right punch. By adequate, I mean it wasn’t a big drunken roundhouse, and, instead, was a fairly straight jab. Doug had obviously done his year in MMA, and it made him feel pretty confident about his fighting abilities, so, the main life lesson tonight was going to be about philosophy as well as humility. I considered real martial arts to be about self defense and protecting you and your loved ones from actual harm. That meant fighting was about life and death, not sport or drunken party antics with your asshole friends. Doug, in walking into this bathroom, was seeking out conflict and, worse still, hoping to inflict bodily pain and injury on another person, and, needless to say, it didn’t exactly paint a flowery picture of his deep inner psychological workings. Of course, the irony in all of this was that I was generally opposed to violence, yet had spent a fair portion of my life embroiled in conflict and had even had taken lives when the occasion arose, but I had only done so with the belief that my actions would save those around me, or, in some way, make the world a better place. Doug, on the other hand, used violence as a means to achieve respect and self esteem and, worse still, didn’t even have the courage to do it alone.
So, as his drunken punch came in, I moved out of its path and extended my right hand to redirect his fist into my left hand so that I could transition into a fairly uncomfortable take down utilizing a variation of the figure four I had used on Sheikh Emir. With my right hand now free, I used it to lightly slap his face just for shock value, then moved it under his arm and shot it backward into his elbow joint in order to bend his forearm. From there, I took hold of his wrist with my right hand and leveraged it back until his shoulder reached its maximum stretch, thus allowing me to slip my foot behind his legs and take him down to the floor.
I decided to reposition him and barred his elbow across my knee to force him to roll over onto his stomach. He groused and groaned and obviously missed the deeper underlying reality that at any point I could have broken or dislocated a joint, but I was in teaching mode, and, therefore, being as gentle as a lamb. I stepped on his shoulder to pin his body to the floor while I kept his elbow firmly resting against my knee, all the while continuously varying the amount of pressure, so that his body wouldn’t produce endorphins to counteract the pain. It was an experience I knew firsthand to be painful and demoralizing, and even more so in Doug’s case, as he was experiencing it in front of his friends who thought he was a badass. Now, we were onto the humility part of the lesson.
“OK, boys and girls, I need everyone to just stand down, chill out, and relax. I’m serious. No one makes a single move. If either of you dumb fucks so much as farts, I’ll break your friend Doug’s arm, then come over there and break one of your arms. Questions?”
; Both shook their head, relaying a unanimous no, but, as I was about to continue speaking, a tiny little high pitched fart squeaked out of someone’s apparently tense butthole, and I immediately scrutinized Jack and Todd.
“It wasn’t me!” they both responded at the exact same time.
“Then who was it?” I asked.
“Mew,” I heard Doug mumble.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“Mew!” Doug mumbled even louder, making me realize he couldn’t properly say the word me with his face pressed against the marble floor.
“Ah, got it. All right then, Jack and Todd have been exonerated for the moment. Now, where was I?”
“Threatening to brake our arms,” Jack said.
“Thanks. Now then, assuming there aren’t any more fucking farts, I’d like to take a moment to impart some valuable wisdom before letting Doug go free.”
Suddenly the door burst open, and Tom, Olivia’s boss, walked in looking concerned.
“Is everyone OK?” he asked excitedly.
“Yeah, everyone’s fine. What’s up?” I asked innocently, still holding Doug firmly in place.
“Olivia and I saw these three follow you in here, so she wanted me to make sure you didn’t hurt them.”
“No worry there, Tom. I was just giving the boys here a quick lesson in martial arts.”
I applied a subtle twist to Doug’s elbow and told him to tap when it hurt. He started tapping frantically, and I quickly released the pressure.
“Good job, next time we’ll work on defending against combinations,” I said, helping him up off the floor, where he stood with his bravado now replaced by embarrassment.
“It’s awfully nice of you to work with these youngsters, Tag,” Tom said.
“What can I say. I love helping the youth of today find their way.”
“I can see that,” he said, gazing at Doug.
Doug remained cowed, his eyes never looking any higher than his shoes. He was definitely embarrassed—as he should be. Fighting was incredibly immature and even more so at a work function that just happened to be at the Royal Palace where your company just made a lot of money. Tom was clearly not very pleased with his three young employees and addressed them in a rather stern tone.
“Now, I believe we all know the real reason you were in here, so let me speak frankly when I say that Tag was being unusually nice for a man with his background. You see, he was a member of one of the most elite special operations units in the United States Military and after that worked for another government agency which he can’t legally mention—so, what you three all got tonight was a valuable life lesson to stop acting like a bunch of assholes, and, needless to say, we’ll be talking about this later. Right now, I want all three of you to apologize to Mr. Finn,” he said.
“Sorry,” all three mumbled, sounding more like scolded children than adults.
“Good. Now leave and pray that you have a job in the morning.”
The three filed out, but CrossFit, who was last in line, suddenly stopped and turned back to me, looking curious.
“Dude, is it true? Were you really in special operations and the CIA?” he asked.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you, so let’s just say I was a fragrance model.”
Tom waited until they were gone before speaking.
“I’m very sorry, Tag. Obviously they’re young and dumb.”
“We all were at one time. It’s not a problem, and what’s a party without a little mischief?”
“Indeed.”
We exited the restroom and found Olivia waiting nervously outside the door.
“Everything OK?” she asked.
“Fine, I was just engaging in a little harmless kitten play with your elite cadre of jackasses.”
We parted ways with her boss and walked to the bar and ordered two martinis—Olivia’s with an olive and mine with a twist. Two minutes later, we were sipping our delicious alcoholic beverages, but we opted to stay at the bar, because it afforded a better view of the party. We enjoyed our drinks and talked, and, a short time later, movement on the other side of the room caught my eye, and I looked over to see Farid talking to a pretty blond woman.
“Do you know him?” Olivia asked, having seen where I was looking.
“Yeah, he’s an old friend and one of the side reasons for my visit here tonight.”
“Well then, should we go say hello?”
“Unfortunately, it’s something I should probably do alone, as I suspect he’s going to shit his pants when he sees me, and it’s unfair to make a lady witness such an indignity.”
We continued to sip our drinks, and I watched and waited patiently for my opening to approach Farid. He finally said goodbye to the woman and headed up the stairs to the second level, so I excused myself from Olivia and followed him. As I arrived at the second floor, I saw him talking to a security man who was guarding the entrance to a private hallway. Farid flashed his ID then walked through the checkpoint and down the hall before disappearing around a corner. I tried to follow, but the guard put up his hand to block my way.
“VIP only,” he said.
“Yeah, I know, my friend, Dr. Suleiman Zuhair, who just walked through here, told me to come meet him, as he had something he wanted to show me,” I said, referring to Farid by his new alias.
“Oh, well do you have a palace VIP ID?”
“No, but I’m here for the party.”
“Yes, and the party is out there. This area is VIP only,” he said, curtly.
He wasn’t much of a talker, so I realized it would be futile to continue the conversation. Instead, I took a moment to look around and noticed that there was a bathroom nearby that might provide access to the ledge that skirted the outside of the second floor of the palace. Assuming I could reach it, it would serve as an excellent alternative route around the stubborn doorman. I went inside the bathroom and was happy to find that it was comparable in size and amenities to its downstairs brethren and, more importantly, had an openable window. Perfect! I slid it open, but, as I was about to climb out, I heard the door open, so I played it cool and pretended to be enjoying the fresh air. As my visitor approached, I turned to see that he was wearing a keffiyeh, so he was probably local. He also had bronzed olive skin and the obligatory Middle Eastern beard, and, judging by his kind eyes and smile, was hopefully not going to cause any trouble.
“These parties can get a little stuffy. Sometimes even the hot air of the desert is relief from the hot air of our fellow guests,” he said, taking up residence at one of the urinals.
Apparently, my summation was correct, and the man was indeed friendly and actually quite charming.
“I agree,” I said, with a laugh.
“What brings you to the Palace tonight? Are you with the American company?”
“No, I’m just accompanying someone from the company.”
“So, you’re here mostly for pleasure?”
“Mostly.”
“Well, I’m not sure how long you’re in the Emirates, but if you can, you should get out and visit the Liwa Oasis. It is a beautiful place and where I spend most of my time.”
“Where is it?”
“Down on the southern end of the Emirates along the border with Saudi Arabia.”
“Well, if I have time, I’ll try and get down there.”
“You won’t regret it. The glamour of our coastal cities is exciting in a Disneyland kind of way, but we are a desert people at heart, and that is where you will find the true spirit of the Emirates.”
“Thank you for the recommendation.”
“You’re welcome.”
He finished up, washed his hands, and gave me a friendly nod as he exited the bathroom, finally allowing me the privacy to climb out the window and onto the ledge. I instinctively looked down and felt a brief twinge of vertigo. I wasn’t exactly on a skyscraper, but a fall from this height was enough to break a few bones and perhaps even my neck. I was also a bit exposed, but I was fortunate that t
here wasn’t a lot of lighting on this part of the building, thus allowing me to move along the ledge unseen. I was also particularly happy to have the grip of my rubber soled Eccos to keep me from slipping and falling to my potential early demise. Thus, I continued safely on past the windows of dark empty rooms until reaching the corner, where I paused when I spied two security men on the ground level below me chatting as they made their rounds. Once they were out of sight, I continued around the corner to see light pouring out from of a window just a few rooms ahead.
I approached it cautiously, stopping before the edge of the frame, so I could lean in just enough to conduct a brief visual survey of the room. First into my field of view was Farid, who was standing on the right side of the room and appeared to be having some kind of casual conversation. To the left of him was a blond woman, but she was facing away from me, so all I could see, besides the back of her head, was her hand resting on the top of the sofa, and it stood out like a sore thumb because it was adorned with an extremely gaudy diamond encrusted bracelet. I leaned over a little more and realized that the next person was none other than Sheikh Hamza, and his presence made me suspect the woman was likely his latest model or actress girlfriend, and the bracelet was very likely a gift from the man himself. I slipped ever so slightly farther along the ledge and saw the final person in the room and nearly shit my pants.
To the left of Hamza was the Goddamn German fucking tourist who’d tried to kill me back in California, which would imply that he was some kind of associate or employee. At least now I knew why Hamza looked so surprised at our earlier meeting and also why he’d had such a challenging tone in his voice. I was the enemy, and now he had a real life face to go with the name. Shit, it was nice to finally have some clarity and start connecting the dots between the various bad guys, but it was a little unsettling to find out that we were up against such a powerful and influential asshole. Still, I had to wonder how this fucker even knew about the Topless Agenda and its latest plans, and, in turn, if one or even several of the members had turned against the others and joined forces with Hamza. If not, then that clever bastard had somehow found another way to penetrate the group. Now, I desperately needed to contact Matheson and tell him about this latest development, but that would have to wait, as I needed to get to Farid.
Gordita Conspiracy Page 26