Robert Ferrigno - Prayers for the assassin

“You going to kiss me before you fuck me, Redbeard?”

Redbeard laughed, a hearty roar that ended with coughing. He bent forward until it stopped. Stood up, face flushed. “I wish I had a friend like you, Detective. A man in my position isn’t allowed that kind of luxury. He is allowed family though. I never had children, but I thought I had family.”

“You got one. I heard Rakkim talk often enough to know that. You were as close to a daddy as he could stand.”

“Yes…thank you for that.” Redbeard turned as the ferry finished its orbit of the downed jet, started back to port. “After Rakkim asked for you to lead the Warriq homicides, I’ve had you under surveillance. The only time you made an effort to elude a tail was last week. You ducked into the men’s department of Kingdom of Heaven and slipped away when my man thought you were in the changing room.”

“I can’t afford that place on my salary anyway.”

“Exactly what I told him. A lesson I’m certain he’s learned.” Redbeard smiled. “I didn’t particularly mind your disappearance. I assumed you were meeting with Rakkim. It was confirmation that he and Sarah were still in the area, which was always my expectation. The capital is familiar turf for them, with all the attendant human networks and hidey-holes. Even so, I had my men monitor any curious developments around the country. Odd occurrences. Rumors. Disappearances. I’ve resisted putting their security profiles into the system for fear of alerting others. I’m sure you understand.”

“Yeah.” Colarusso pulled at his bulbous nose. It itched. “Once they’re in the system, it’s open season.”

Redbeard wiped the edges of his mouth with a fingertip. “Late last night something odd came to my attention. Eight police officers were killed in the line of duty last night in Orange County, California. SWAT team members. Full gear. All dead. No arrests. The PD clamped down on the story. Then this morning, the official line is that it was an undercover drug sting gone bad.”

“It happens.”

“Six geared-up SWAT officers down? How often does that happen? Last night there was no one but cops dead at the scene, and this morning there’s a morgue full of the usual suspects.” Redbeard raked a hand through his beard. “I haven’t been able to get a look at autopsy reports on the officers, not yet, but when I do, I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts that they were killed with a knife, a well-trained knife.” Redbeard looked at Colarusso. “I don’t know where Rakkim and Sarah are, but someone does. Someone who means them harm.”

Colarusso stared back at him.

Redbeard turned away. “When we get back to shore, feel free to check what I’ve told you. I wouldn’t want you to feel foolish.”

Colarusso watched Redbeard’s robe flap in the wind. Good interrogators blindsided you. They came at you from a direction you didn’t expect. Or they were polite when you were expecting bluster. The best ones didn’t even ask the big question. They simply laid out a situation and let you decide if you wanted to help. Redbeard was the best Colarusso had ever encountered. “They’re in Southern California. I don’t know where exactly, but I worked out a bounce itinerary that ended up at Bin Laden. I don’t know what they’re after. Rakkim wouldn’t tell me.”

Redbeard kept his back to him. “I appreciate that, Anthony.”

“I don’t know about this SWAT team…but there’s a Fedayeen assassin after him.” Colarusso shifted. “I think…I think this assassin showed up at my place last week. Not more than a day after they left town. He talked to my boy.”

Redbeard turned. Walked over. Right beside him now. Concerned.

“Nothing happened. Everyone’s okay.”

“Then it wasn’t the assassin,” said Redbeard.

“He showed up with some story about being from the mayor’s office. Anthony Jr. wouldn’t let him in. Said he got a bad feeling about the guy. Anthony Jr. said he practically pissed himself. You don’t know my boy, but that’s not the kind of thing he would normally admit to. I called the mayor’s office. They didn’t send anybody-”

“Call your family and tell them to pack their things. I’ll send some men over-”

“Already shipped them out. Made Anthony Jr. go with the wife and girls. Told him he had to protect them. He didn’t like it, but he went.”

“What about you?”

“Let him knock on my door again,” Colarusso growled, “I’ll blow his brains out. I’ll empty the fucking clip.” He shivered in the cold wind. “Don’t worry, Anthony Jr. didn’t tell him anything. He didn’t know anything to tell.”

Redbeard shook his head. “He knows your boy was worried about visitors. A Fedayeen assassin can practically read minds.”

Colarusso felt sick. “Rakkim needed some information and this woman in Personnel helped me. She hasn’t been at work in a few days and I’m worried. The girls in the office say she’s got all kind of sick days accrued, but she didn’t give notice.” He looked around. “I let myself into her apartment. Nothing out of place. Nothing that jumped out at me anyway.” The engine of the ferry shuddered and he fought for his footing. “I tried calling Rakkim…but he has his cell switched off. He thinks people can track him just from accessing a message.”

“They can.”

Colarusso licked his lips. “I didn’t know that.”

“That headache of yours is back.”

Colarusso rubbed his forehead. “Feels like a couple of guys cracking rocks inside me.”

Redbeard had a sad smile. “I know just what you mean. Perhaps when you pass me the information you gave Rakkim, we can both get some relief.”

The four men grabbed Angelina on the way out of the mosque. Big men who lifted her by the elbows and carried her quickly to a waiting black car. She cried out, her toes dragging across the parking lot. Others saw her. Heard her. Women she had prayed alongside of for twenty years, but they all pretended not to see or hear. Except for Delia Mubarak, who called her name. Delia, who looked around for support, but was smacked by her husband, led away by the hand like a naughty child. The men hustled Angelina into the backseat of the car, one on either side of her. The other two got in front. Doors slammed, heavy as the gates to hell.

“When Redbeard finds out what you’ve done, I wouldn’t be you for all the gold in Switzerland,” said Angelina.

The men remained silent. Stared straight ahead.

“So Ibn Azziz thought he needed four men to bring in a little old lady. You must be very proud to fetch for such a mighty lord.”

The man to her right cursed her, but the driver ordered him quiet.

Angelina fingered her prayer beads. They could stay silent all they wanted now, she had learned what she wanted. It had been Ibn Azziz who’d ordered her capture. She listened to the clicking of her prayer beads, fingers flying, comforted by the names of God.

Rakkim slowly opened his eyes. It took an effort. Too much light coming in through the curtains. His eyes closed again, heavy-lidded. No. No.

“Good job.” An old man sat beside the bed, legs crossed at the knee. Dapper old gent in a pale green three-piece suit. White hair. White beard, lightly perfumed. Light brown skin…the color of Rakkim’s own face. “Don’t doze off again. Stick around.”

Rakkim struggled awake. The back of the bed moved silently to a more upright position.

“Better?” said the old man. “I was getting bored watching you sleep.” He smiled. Such small teeth. “You looked like you were dreaming.”

Rakkim licked his dry lips. Maybe this was a dream? He sipped cool water from the glass the old man held to his lips. “Where…am I?” His voice was as cracked as his lips.