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Authors: A.M. Khalifa

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BOOK: Terminal Rage
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Sam

s expression hadn

t changed one bit, and it made Adly uncomfortable. He couldn

t read him like he wanted to.

“How were the transactions carried out, if the Egyptians wanted to distance themselves from it?”

“Hassan Islam was the architect of this deal and the main contact with the Israelis. He was a private citizen and could do what he wanted.”

“Then why attack him? It sounds like they

re two of a kind.”

“No one knows what happened exactly. Overnight, Hassan Islam decided to increase the ratios of the commissions to his advantage. He figured he was doing all the heavy lifting and wanted to be compensated for that. He

d become too fat and powerful for his own good. So he had to be taught a small lesson. They didn

t want to kill him—he was still very useful. Just a light tug at the ear.”

“You call that a

light tug

?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“So
how’d
you do it?”

“Easy. It

s not hard to find a terrorist cell starved for money and looking to make a name for itself. Those religious fanatics were every bit as corrupt as we were. And bloodthirsty. I had used Demir Salimovic for the odd job here and there, and he had never let me down. So when this came up, I knew he would take care of business. He infiltrated a Jordanian terror cell, handpicked Nabulsi and Madi, and trained them for the job.”

Sam moved closer. Still expressionless. Not one blink.

“The attack was a message from my boss to Hassan Islam. A reminder of who held the guns in our country. It

s normal. It

s how business is conducted when you

re that high up in the food chain in our part of the world. And it worked. Hassan Islam never again raised his head.”

The American took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly.

“Give me a name, Adly. Your boss.”

Adly motioned with his head for Sam to kneel down and whispered. “Come close.” The sheer terror of his boss prevented him from speaking his name out loud. Even in the face of death.

§

Sam looked at Adly’s lips and contemplated the words that had just come out of them. It was a name he had been waiting to hear for the last six years. He’d had his suspicions, which had now been confirmed.

“Now I can set you free, Adly.”

He pulled out a sharp barber

s blade from his back pocket and slashed Adly

s throat from ear to ear. A pink mist sprayed in the air, followed by a fountain of red exploding everywhere. Sam stepped back just in time to avoid being sullied by Adly

s tainted blood. He waited until his body stopped fluttering, then placed his hands on Adly

s face and closed his eyes.

“You

re free now, you miserable son-of-a-bitch.”

He unhooked the Egyptian from the epidural and stuffed him into a body bag. Then he dragged the corpse from the truck he

d converted into an interrogation room. The whole setup had been designed by the Omani brothers on his team. In a previous life, the younger brother was an anesthetist and the other a successful hepatic surgeon.

A van Sam had parked nearby at the edge of the Norcombe Wood had a big enough trunk for Adly

s body and the more incriminating tools Sam had used. He doused the empty truck with gasoline and set fire to it.

After a solemn and introspective three-hour drive west during which Sam shed a few silent tears, he arrived at an abandoned building site in Essex. He parked at a designated spot, got out and waited about a hundred feet away. Less than fifteen minutes later, a masked man driving a similar vehicle showed up. A black-market cremator. Sam handed him a thick wad of cash, they exchanged van keys, then drove off.

Later that day, Adly

s body would be converted to ashes, as if he or his despicable crimes had never existed.

THIRTY-ONE

Friday, December 7, 2012—9:32 a.m.
Manhattan, New York

A
melia Ridgley studied the two women sitting across the glass conference table. She couldn

t decipher what they could possibly have in common with her. One of them was a young Asian woman, possibly Thai, with long black hair woven in an elegant Dutch braid extending halfway down her back. She wore a white blouse and a knee-length peach skirt. The liner around her thin lips accentuated her expressive mouth. Her eyebrows were plucked to perfect thin lines curving sensually over her forlorn brown eyes. Eyes that transmitted a deeper disposition. Someone with profound, even painful experience on her shoulders, despite her youth.

She sat mute next to an older woman with an approachable, soft face. She must have been in her mid- to late-fifties. Her straw-colored hair had a few silver strands and was tied in a neat bun. Her clothes were functional. Plain polo T-shirt, comfortable jeans, and navy blue sneakers with some serious mileage on them. A silent, protective, even maternal bond seemed to connect her to the young woman next to her.

A few weeks ago, Amelia Ridgley had received a call summoning her to this meeting today at the law offices of Sidmann and Gershwin
in downtown Manhattan. She hadn

t been briefed about its purpose, other than it was a summoning she could hardly afford to miss. The two women sitting across from her were already there when she arrived. Since neither of them came across as lawyers, Amelia concluded they were also clueless as to the purpose of the meeting.

Bernard Gershwin hurried into the conference room, followed by two sharply dressed assistants, a man and a woman in their late twenties. He apologized for being late and sat down at the head of the table. Gershwin was a short man with a stout figure and a perfect egg-shaped shining head. He slipped spectacles down his smooth forehead and snapped his fingers to his male assistant, who dutifully placed a folder in front of him.

“Thank you for coming today.” His tone suggested he

d be all business and no small talk. He lowered his glasses and studied each of the three women as if he too was confused by their stark differences. Amelia was certain a high-powered lawyer like Gershwin would have at least known her name, let alone recognized her face from the media.

The tense, inquisitive atmosphere in the room didn

t last long. Gershwin plunged right in and introduced them to each other. Orapan Apirakkan was a young Thai woman who had been trafficked into America for prostitution until she escaped her captors. The woman next to her was Gloria Perez, who ran a shelter for sexually abused women in North Hollywood. Orapan had been in her care for almost a year now. These revelations served only to intrigue Ameila further by what could possibly connect her to these women.

Gershwin tightened his eyes and peered from behind his glasses at Gloria Perez.

“Ms. Perez, does Ms. Apirakkan understand English? We

ve arranged for a Thai interpreter for her, if she needs him. He

s waiting outside.”

Gloria glanced at the Thai woman and smiled. “Orapan has a good grasp of English. If there is anything she doesn

t understand, she

ll tell me and I can explain. What is this all about, anyway, Mr. Gershwin?”

Amelia Ridgley remained quiet and listened with her hands entwined on the glass table in front of her. At her age, very few things in life surprised her anymore. But this was different. She had no idea where any of this was going.

Gershwin waggled his finger to a third assistant waiting at the door to let him know an interpreter would not be needed.

“We have asked you here today to fulfill a series of bequests to each of you by one of our clients.”

Amelia hated it when lawyers used vague terms. “What do you mean by bequests? Like a will?”

“Not quite, Ms. Ridgley. Our client is still alive and well. But they have requested to remain unnamed. They have earmarked certain funds and benefits they would like to disburse to the three of you present in this room today, for reasons I will disclose shortly. It is my client

s belief that each of you will understand more about their motives than anyone in this law office.”

“I am intrigued, Mr. Gershwin. Please go ahead.”

He scanned the documents in front of him and then looked up at the Thai woman.

“Let me start with Ms. Apirakkan. It is our understanding you have a pending application for humanitarian refugee status in this country. We know this is something Ms. Perez

s organization tries
to do for the women they look after. But the expenses involved and the time it takes can be daunting. My client has instructed us to retain on your behalf the services of the top immigration law firm in California. Mark my word, we

ll see to it your application for refugee status based on humanitarian reasons is concluded to your benefit as soon as possible. We have the right connections to make this happen.”

Orapan

s eyes almost popped out of her head. It seemed she had understood the gist of what she had just heard but couldn

t believe it. She looked at Gloria and asked her to confirm what the man with the shiny head had just said. Gloria paraphrased in simple English the legal benevolence Orapan had just been granted, and then turned to Gershwin.

“Orapan wants to know who your client is, Mr. Gershwin. You said she would understand when you reveal the bequest. But she doesn

t.”

“My client is aware there will be keen interest to know who they are. But one of the conditions they

ve placed for the bequests is for their identity to remain concealed, as I explained earlier. However, my client has asked me to read a short message to each of you after the bequests have been made, which I assure you will shed light on their actions.”

“I understand. Please go ahead with Orapan

s message then.”

“Not quite yet, Ms. Perez. We

re not done with her yet. In addition to the legal assistance for her immigration status, my client has made a financial gift to Ms. Apirakkan.”

Gershwin paused, and looked up from over his glasses again as if they were only good for reading documents, but a lousy membrane to discern people

s expressions and emotions.

“Three hundred thousand dollars, to be used for her education and rehabilitation, disbursed through this office with the guidance of Ms. Perez.”

Orapan clutched Gloria

s hands hard as they both tried to deal with the rush of unexpected emotions unleashed by this news.

“And that

s not all.” Gershwin looked up.

“A further two million dollars will be gifted to her for a safe, comfortable, and dignified future. The first million to be disbursed over five annual installments of two hundred thousand dollars. And the second million to be paid out as a lump sum on the sixth year. The structure of the payment schedule is designed to protect her from herself and from other opportunistic people. It is intended to allow her to mature into her newfound wealth.

“Finally, our office has been provided with sufficient funds and instructions to commence a private investigation into the human trafficking ring that brought her into this country in the first place. Once we have sufficient evidence, we

ll present it to the authorities and bring charges against the main suspects involved.”

Gershwin didn

t wait for Orapan and Gloria to process what they had heard. He sipped some water from an expensive-looking glass in front of him and cleared his throat. Then concluded with the message for Orapan from this unknown benefactor.

“Begin message.

“Dear Orapan,

“I told you once I wanted to give you something I never had—a choice. Now I want to give you something else—an explanation of how I came to know you in the first place.

“I met your older brother Luk in Sharm El Sheikh seven years ago, several days before he and my family perished in a horrific terrorist attack in that city.

“He worked as a chef in a Thai restaurant at the hotel where my family and I were staying. After lunch one day he came to us and we thanked him for the delicious food he had prepared. We became friends and spoke every day.

“One afternoon when he was off-duty, I found him standing on the beach. He seemed distraught, maybe even crying. We started talking and he opened his heart to me. He told me your story. How you were abused by your stepfather who then sold you to traffickers.

“Ever since you disappeared, Luk

s dream was to make enough money to try to find you one day and save you.

“He even had a whole deck of photos of you that he gave out to people who he thought could help him. I was one of those people.
He never stopped looking for you, Orapan.

“After your brother and my family died in that attack, I took it upon myself to continue his mission. It took me close to six years to track you down.

“This gift I am giving you is a tribute to the undying love your brother had for you, which reflects what I feel for my own murdered family. May his soul and that of everyone who died on that day rest in peace now. And may you now find happiness and safety in your new life. And your new country.”

“End message.”

Orapan

s eyes were as wide as saucers and her hands covered her gaping mouth. Then the tears came.

Amelia started to understand where this was going.

Gershwin turned his attention to Gloria.

“Ms. Perez. Your turn. My client would like to set up an endowment worth twenty million dollars to support the work of the North Hollywood Women

s Shelter, to ensure it never ends. A separate gift of five million dollars will also be made for your immediate activities. This should be more than enough to upgrade your main shelter location to a larger and better equipped facility so you can help more women. Are you ready to hear your message?”

Gloria nodded mutely, her eyes wide as Gershwin cleared his throat again in preparation to read what the mystery benefactor had to say to her.

“Begin message.

“Dear Gloria,

“You walked up to me on the beach in Santa Monica many years ago, and said you had a sixth sense for

deep, unprocessed grief

. You said I had the look of someone who had given up on life and was ready to cross to the other side. And you were right, even though I didn

t speak a word that day. I just listened.

“You never pried about what misery had led me to the edge. Instead, you shared with me the horrific stories of the women you rescued, and how they were able to rebuild their lives and find microscopic rays of hope. Maybe you didn

t intend to have that effect on me, but the stories of the brave women you encountered who put their nightmares behind them to start a new life inspired me to find meaning and direction for my own existence, after suffering the greatest loss anyone can endure.

“On that day, you slipped your business card in my shirt pocket and asked me to call you if I ever needed a friend.

“And that

s what I did. When Orapan needed a safe place, I took her to your shelter. Because I knew then you were the best friend she could have. The salvation she deserved.

“No amount of money can inspire any one to be as selfless and as pure as you, Gloria. You spread light and hope in the universe because of the sort of human being you are. That

s your nature. The gift I

m giving you is intended to make your work just a little easier.

“End message.”

Gershwin shuffled papers, then turned his attention to Amelia.

“And last but not least, Ms. Ridgley. My client is granting your organization, the Spring Roy Sharm El Sheikh Memorial Trust, the sum of fifty million dollars. This is to be divided equally amongst the surviving family members of the 2005 terrorist attacks in Sharm El Sheikh. The payments should also include the victims of the first attack on the old town, and not just the resort. And the wives and children of the two men convicted of the crime, Tarek Nabulsi and Hassan Madi.

“My client is also entrusting you with an additional sum of one hundred million dollars to be used for three separate activities. The first is to set up a micro funding organization for young men and women in Egypt and Jordan with twenty-five million dollars in seed funding. My client believes abject poverty and material need create the perfect environment for the spread of hatred, intolerance, violence, and terrorism.

“The second is to set up a twenty-five million dollar scholarship endowment for brilliant young Egyptian and Jordanian students who would not otherwise be able to afford to study in the United States. My client believes the contempt and hatred poverty can breed is enabled by ignorance. The light of knowledge and convergence of cultures can force hatred and intolerance to give way to love and acceptance.”

BOOK: Terminal Rage
12.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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