Robert Ferrigno - Heart of the Assassin

"You were already at each other's throats, you just didn't want to admit it. Now you know." Kidd popped a papery date in his mouth, chewed lustily. "Interesting news this morning. The whole city is buzzing."

"Yes."

"A fortunate turn of events, wouldn't you say? Here you and I were concerned whether Senator Chambers was in thrall to the Old One, and now that problem has been resolved." Kidd smacked his lips, reached for another date. "Barely a week before his appointment as secretary of defense too."

Rakkim slurped his tea. "Allah works in mysterious ways."

"Allah? Perhaps." Kidd's large white teeth flashed in the sun. "I woke up for dawn prayers to find that Senator Chambers was caught staggering down the main street of the Zone, drunk and buck naked…the uncensored video is everywhere. Everywhere. You should have heard my wives giggling." He patted Rakkim on the shoulder. "Sad to say, in regard to the instrument of procreation and pleasure, Allah was not generous to that poor white man."

"Hung like a hamster," said Rakkim.

"Yea, verily."

The toddler learning to walk managed a dozen steps before falling over. He scrambled up, face scratched, clapping his hands with delight. Then he started walking again.

"Chambers has already resigned from the senate." Kidd licked his fingers clean. "Still…such humiliation seems a small price to pay for betraying his country. You should have killed him."

"I'm tired of killing."

Kidd toyed with another date, rolling it over his fingers.

"It comes too easy now. I barely have time to think and it's done."

Kidd tossed the date back into the bowl, wiped his hands. "You're tired of killing…but killing is not tired of you."

"What is that? Some Somali nursery rhyme?"

"Cool your anger, Abu Michael, I meant no insult," Kidd said gently. "Death walks beside you, that's all I'm saying."

"Oh, that makes me feel a lot better."

"Death walks beside you, but you are not his slave. Another man might have killed Chambers. I would have killed him." Kidd's eyes shone with humor. "Instead, the naked senator retires to his country estate…to spend more time with his family."

"Sidi…isn't that punishment enough?"

Kidd clapped him on the back, the other men craning their heads to see what was so funny. Kidd stretched out his long legs, rolled on his side facing Rakkim. "The president called me just after the news broke. Sounded like he was still half asleep. He asked me to recommend someone for secretary of defense. He seemed to be in quite a hurry."

"He should have done that the first time."

"You don't correct a president, Abu Michael, you merely compliment them on their wisdom in seeking your counsel." Kidd stroked his beard. "I suggested Joseph Vinh." He nodded to himself. "Vinh's merely adequate as a strategic thinker, but we served together in the Great War. I trust him. Right now, that's the most important thing."

"Putting Vinh up for defense secretary solves our immediate problem," said Rakkim, "but the bigger problem remains-who suggested Senator Chambers for the position? Who did the president trust enough to heed his counsel? That's the Old One's mole. That's who we need to find."

"Senator Nichols mentored the president when he first went into politics…they remain close," said Kidd, "and Jason Fletcher lavishly funded his campaigns…they still play golf at least once a month."

Michael and Shakur wandered off together, dragging their broken fighting sticks in the dirt. Michael suddenly raced ahead, Shakur giving chase.

"Love your children while they are young, Rakkim, hold them close," said Kidd, his eyes on the two boys, "because they grow up soon enough, and then…then they have no need of you."

Mullah Jenkins saw one of ibn-Azziz's bodyguards slouched in the shadows at the south checkpoint leading out of the city, the man cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his knife while the regular patrol checked IDs. If it wasn't for Jenkins's enhanced night vision, he would have never spotted the man. The wind kicked up, a storm coming in fast. He turned into an alley and started running, his black robes flapping around him like bat wings. A member of ibn-Azziz's personal retinue at the south checkpoint, another one at the eastern checkpoint. Had to be a reason and Jenkins didn't like the answer he'd gotten.

He raced down the alley. Should have left with Rakkim when he had the chance. Should have left on his own long before then. He would have liked to convince himself that he stayed because he thought he had more work to do for General Kidd, but that wasn't it. He hadn't left that night because he was afraid Rakkim would kill him as soon as they were off the bridge. He could see it in Rakkim's eyes, a barely restrained moral outrage, a mixture of disappointment and disgust from his former pupil. Almost as great as the disgust Jenkins felt toward himself. He should have taken the risk and left with Rakkim. Even if Rakkim had killed him, that was better than falling into the hands of ibn-Azziz.

Something had gone wrong. Something to draw suspicion to him. Had he been too merciful? Yes…yes, the schoolgirls, the damn schoolgirls. He should have refused Rakkim's demand. Burned them all. Now, look at him, running for his life because Rakkim had a soft heart. The killer with a soft heart. Jenkins tried to laugh but couldn't summon the humor, his laughter as dried and atrophied as ibn-Azziz's mercy.

With late-night prayers finished, the streets were nearly deserted. No place to hide. His apartment was a death trap. He had an emergency refuge, a small room in an abandoned building near the old marina, but it was better to escape the city now, any way he could.

He forced himself to slow, head high, robe billowing around him, as befitting a cleric of his station. Ibn-Azziz had no reason to believe that Jenkins was aware of the danger he was in. The order to pick him up had probably been sent out only to the guards at the checkpoints. If that failed to snag him, a more general order would be sent out at first light, his image shown at every mosque during dawn prayers. Then no refuge would be safe. Nor would anyone risk angering ibn-Azziz to help him. All these years in New Fallujah, and there was no one he could call his friend, no one who would shelter him. The price of being a shadow warrior was that intimacy was a threat. You built your life on a construct of deceit, a house of lies that collapsed with the slightest pressure.

A door opened in the alley, and two men stepped out.

Jenkins froze, heart pounding.

The two men looked at him, fell to their knees. "Mercy…we ask mercy."

Jenkins saw that one of them had a lit cigarette in his hand. Doubtless they had slipped out of their lodgings to smoke in secret.

The man tossed his cigarette to the pavement, crushed it underfoot. The other stayed on his knees, head bowed.

Jenkins let them simmer in their sin for a few moments. Mercy too quickly given would be suspicious. He watched as they trembled before him, waiting for his decision.

"I know your names," Jenkins lied. "See that you double your donations at mosque tomorrow morning."

The man who had tossed his cigarette attempted to kiss the hem of Jenkins's robe.

Jenkins kicked, knocked him backward. He heard the door to the alley slam, drew the hood of his robe tight around his face. As he was about to leave the alley, he heard a car approach and Jenkins shrank back, hugged the wall. A dark green car with two Black Robe enforcers inside drove past, though whether they were looking for him or for sinners, he wasn't sure.

He waited until the car's taillights disappeared before crossing the street. He headed toward the Bridge of Skulls. There was a small boat dock under the bridge, a dock available only to the Black Robes patrol units-the boats used to cruise the bay, looking for lights on after curfew or to intercept smugglers bringing in contraband. The storm would keep boats docked, and the guards huddled in their shacks. Taking one of the boats across the bay to safety would be dangerous in this weather, but the very risk made it less likely that ibn-Azziz would have the area under surveillance.