Robert Ferrigno - Prayers for the assassin

“Equating me with Darwin is a mistake. I didn’t think you made many of those. It only takes one, though, if the mistake is big enough.” Helicopters dipped and soared over the city like dragonflies. “The unexploded nuke you left in China, that was a serious mistake. They don’t make them any bigger.”

The city lights blinked before the Old One. “It’s not in China.”

Rakkim stared.

The Old One’s eyes were calm as smoke. “The fourth nuke is in the South China Sea, somewhere off the coast of Hainan. Thanks to my own faulty judgment. You look surprised, Rakkim.”

“I had expected…a denial.”

“There should be no secrets between us. That’s why you’ve been given free rein of the city, without being followed or restricted in any way. I have enough slaves. I require a free man.”

“Of course.”

“I anticipated your doubts. As with all things, they too shall pass.” The Old One half closed his eyes, pained. “I should have planted the fourth nuke under the Vatican as my son Essam wanted. The blast would have set the Catholics irrevocably against the Jews…and Essam would be by my side instead of you.” He shook his head. “Essam was the oldest son of the last wife I truly loved. First in his class at MIT. A brilliant boy. Essam wanted to detonate the nuke under Saint Peter’s Cathedral, but I was worried about China’s growing economic might. I said Shanghai and he was obedient. Now he is dead.” The breeze rippled his fine white hair. “It was no windier than this when their fishing boat went down. Safar Abdullah, who had shepherded the fissionable fuel rods, Safar Abdullah, who was already dying, he was the only one to survive.” He gripped the railing. “Surely Allah was teaching me a lesson in humility.”

“You killed at least twenty million people that day. It’s a little fucking late for a lesson in humility.” Rakkim noted the minute tightening at the corners of the Old One’s mouth-the profanity annoyed him.

“I’ve done whatever has been necessary to defend the faith. To spread the faith. As the Holy Qur’an commands-”

“Twenty million-”

“They died to restore the caliphate, as has been prophesied. The faithful who perished in Mecca are already in Paradise. The others…they are smoldering in hell.”

Rakkim forced himself calm. The man who shouts wins battles; the quiet man wins the war, that’s what Redbeard had taught. “If the bomb is at the bottom of the ocean, you have nothing to fear. So why did Darwin kill Marian Warriq? Why did he kill Fatima Abdullah? What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of running out of time,” said the Old One. “Redbeard has already cost me twenty-five years. That’s how long it took me to put my pieces back into place on the chessboard. Allah loves a patient man, but I may not have another twenty-five years.”

“If there’s no proof-”

“Redbeard doesn’t need proof to cause me grief-haven’t you learned that much from him?” The Old One clasped his hands, the backs spotted and blue-veined, the nails yellowed. The hands of a mummy. “The president is dying. I have labored to assure that his successor will owe his allegiance to me. These are…tenuous times. Even without proof, Redbeard’s digging up the Zionist Betrayal will spread doubt and confusion among the people. I can’t allow my plans for a smooth succession to be jeopardized.”

“I’m going to enjoy fucking you up.”

“Open your eyes, Rakkim, and see what I am offering you.” The Old One spread his arms to the Strip, and the whole world was there in perfect miniature-Paris, Rome, Pirate World, the Great Pyramid, Sugarloaf and Rio, Mount Kilimanjaro, Beijing, the Kremlin. “All you see and more can be yours.”

Rakkim looked out at the world. He believed the Old One.

The Old One grabbed Rakkim’s shoulder, and the current ran through both of them. “A great wind is rising. You can either become the storm or be swept away by it. I’m offering you a place beside me. Join me and nothing will be denied you. Nothing.”

Rakkim shook him off. “How…how about a case of Twinkies? They’re supposed to be incredible, and I’ve heard there’s a whole warehouse full of them somewhere. I mean, you did say nothing would be denied me, right?” Rakkim’s teeth were chattering. “So, okay, a case of Twinkies and a…copy of Batman number one, for Sarah.”

The Old One’s laugh rattled. “I haven’t thought of Twinkies in thirty years.” His grin was smooth. “Ibrahim, my oldest son remaining, is not going to like you. He’s going to be threatened by you, and no matter how much I reassure him, he will recognize that I prefer your company. You are not descended from the Prophet, all blessings upon Him, so you will never ascend to my place. These facts should soften his jealousy, but they won’t. Ibrahim fears Darwin, but he will despise you.”

“Your boy sounds like he’s got marshmallows in his nut sack. You might want to rethink this little campaign to restore the caliphate. You haven’t got enough backup.”

The Old One measured him. “That’s why you’re here, Rakkim. You and Darwin.”

“Well, that’s flattering. Are you trying to seduce me? Because if you are, you should know I’m going to end up breaking your heart.”

“I’ll take that risk.” The Old One looked past him. “I wish you and Essam had met. He would have liked you. He wasn’t afraid of anyone.” His lower lip trembled. “Such a beautiful boy…now lost in deep, dark sea. I hate the ocean now. I used to swim every day, but I can’t bear the sight of the waves anymore. I sometimes think that’s the reason I chose to live in the middle of the desert.”

Rakkim watched him. The tears in his eyes seemed genuine.

The Old One cleared his throat. “I’ve been waiting for you a long time. Same with Darwin. I searched for a retired assassin for years, someone off-the-books, someone who had broken his leash to the Fedayeen. I used all my resources, but it was only later, when I finally found Darwin, that I learned why it had taken so long.” He leaned closer. “Assassins and shadow warriors are linked. Both are elite units of the Fedayeen, fiercely independent…and both ultimately betrayed by their leaders.” The Old One smoothed his lapels. “Assassins average nineteen missions before they are terminated. If they survive that long, they become too dangerous, too resistant to control, mad with bloodlust. It’s the great secret of the Fedayeen, known to no more than a dozen senior officers. Assassins aren’t aware of this, of course, they believe the lie of the retired assassin, his identity unknown, living out his years like a pasha. It’s not so. There are no retired assassins. Except for Darwin. He’d completed forty-five missions when they decided to kill him.” His amusement was icy. “They waited too long.”

“How do you kill an assassin?”

“Are you taking notes?”

Rakkim didn’t answer.

The Old One nodded. “The Fedayeen sent three assassins to kill Darwin, experienced men told by their superiors that he had gone rogue.” The red lights of the city were reflected in the Old One’s eyes. “Darwin killed all three of them. Then he killed General Cheverton, head of the assassins unit. The man who had given the order. So you see, you and Darwin have something else in common.”

The Old One was trying to impress Rakkim with his knowledge. A sign of his vulnerability or his ego. Rakkim wasn’t sure which it was.

“Shadow warriors are extraordinarily valuable, even more useful strategically than assassins, but equally dangerous to the high command. Shadow warriors always go native. It’s what makes them shadow warriors to begin with. The ability to blend into the environment, to assume the protective coloration of the enemy…well, really, what did they expect?” The Old One shook his head. “There are plenty of retired Fedayeen, but no such thing as a retired assassin. No retired shadow warriors either. You and Darwin, you’re each one of a kind.”