The Godless One (42 page)

"I can prove it! Just call the bank!
They're open twenty-four hours a day."

"That's service," Ari nodded, giving
Uday another prick, just for the hell of it.

"No! No! I'll tell you the numbers. I
have them memorized!"

"You can't remember to wipe your ass!"
Ari bellowed. "Who was the first President of the United
States?"

"
What
?"

"I thought so." Ari was relieved when
the passenger door opened and Abu Jasim thrust his nephew inside.
He tried to snap his fingers to catch the young man's attention,
but his fingers were stiffened by pain and the result was feeble.
Abu Jasim climbed in the other side. Ari pointed at him, then at
Ahmad, then mimed a cell phone with his free hand. Abu Jasim
scowled, put off by the rudeness of the gesture, but nudged his
nephew and nodded towards the back. With great reluctance, Ahmad
shifted around. When he saw nothing worse than what he had seen
earlier, he let out a sigh. Not much of a sigh, because the knife
was still in Ari's hand. Once again, Ari began to mime a cell
phone. Then he stopped. He was still able to hold the knife, but
manipulating the keypad on a cell phone with his swollen fingers
was beyond him.

"All right, boy," he said.

Ahmad raised his eyebrows.

"I don’t want him learning your
name."

"Oh," said Ahmad. "Forgot."

"And just because I'm taking this
precaution doesn't mean I won't poke out your eyes, or kill you,"
Ari said, tapping Uday's hand with his blade.

Ahmad held the phone out to
him.

"No. You're going to have to
call."

Ahmad looked at Ari's hands and
nodded.

"What number do we call?" Ari
said.

Uday had withdrawn his hands from his
face and was staring at Ari with a kind of mocking horror, as
though he was confronting a stupid, mad dog. He said nothing.
Suddenly, Ari whipped the knife in an arc, coming within a whisper
of Uday's eyes. If Uday had not flung himself backwards, he might
have been blinded.

Uday reeled off a number. He spoke
fast, but Ahmad picked up just as fast—he had kept up his Arabic,
it seemed, probably at his father's insistence. Meanwhile, as soon
as the number was out of Uday's mouth Ari had memorized it. As he
expected, the first two digits were 00. The country code was
376.

"Andorra," Ari grunted.

Ahmad listened on the phone for a
moment. His eyes widened and he gaped up at Ari. "Pretty fucking
good, Colonel. Banca Privada D'Andorra."

Abu Jasim lifted a hand to cuff the
young man for his rude language, but Ari waved him off. Ahmad's
face turned sour. "It's a menu. I'm going to be talking to robots.
And it's in Spanish!"

"Be patient," said Ari, turning back to
Uday and hefting the Ka-Bar threateningly.

"Ah...'for Spanish, Press 1; for
English'—" Ahmad quickly pressed 2. He unconsciously held up his
hand, like a conductor alerting the Philharmonic that the next
movement was about to begin. "Ugh! 'Please say or use the keypad on
your digital phone to enter your password. '"

They all looked at Uday. Uday looked at
the roof panel. Ari tapped the tip of his knife on Uday's knee and
translated the computer's request into Arabic.

"Gilgamesh," he said.

"Gilgamesh," Ahmad said, and grinned.
"'For domestic accounts, Press 1; for Overseas accounts, Press 2'—"
Press 2. "'For corporate accounts, Press 1, for government
accounts, Press 2, for individual accounts, Press 3'—" He pressed.
"'For security purposes, please enter your name. You can speak it
slowly, or use the keypad on your phone to'—" Ahmad stared at Uday
and whispered, "Do I use his real name?" Then he jumped. The
computer had picked up his words. "'I'm sorry, I did not recognize
that response. Please state your name or use the keypad—'" Ahmad
was bouncing up and down in his seat in frustration. Ari repeated
the question in Arabic for Uday. When a response was not
forthcoming, Ari began to move the knife in the air.

"Timothy Leary."

It sounded valid to Ari, but Ahmad
burst out in laughter. He was punished when the computer voice told
him it could not understand his response, and that he had only one
more try before the account was locked, in which case he would have
to present himself or an authorized representative with proper
credentials at the headquarters in Escaldes-Engordany. When Ahmad
covered the phone and whispered this to Ari, Abu Jasim picked up on
the Andorran name. He shook his head.

"I had some funding issues, a few years
back. You said the Banca Privada d'Andorra. No way. It's strictly
for locals."

"You tried to make a deposit there?"
asked Ari, curious.

"I had some cash..." In response to a
querying look from the Colonel, he added: "How is it you think I
can afford to come racing south whenever you call me? I'm
retired."

Ari turned to Uday. "Well?"

"I didn't set up the account," Uday
confessed. "A banker I know..."

"Maybe they're expanding their
portfolio," said Ari. "I'm sure they must deal in more than just
Euros." He nodded at Ahmad.

Ahmad lifted the phone and said,
"Timothy Leary."

A moment later, he raised his thumb. He
looked quite excited. Then his face fell again. "They want the
account number." He said this in Arabic for Uday's
benefit.

Uday, as tired as Ari of playing games,
told them the alpha-numeric sequence. It was burned in Ari's mind
as Ahmad punched it into the phone.

"We're well past the time limit you
gave me," Abu Jasim observed. "And the guy inside keeps looking out
at us."

"Didn't Ahmad buy you a sandwich? Eat
it. He'll think we're tourists."

"Aw crap," Ahmad moaned. "'For security
purposes, we want you to answer some questions…' I guess these were
programmed in when the account was set up. 'What is your favorite
color?'"

Ari looked at the prisoner.
"So?"

"Red," said Uday.

"Surprise," muttered Ari.

"'What is your favorite
movie?'"

"The Long Days," said Uday.

This was Saddam Hussein's paean to his
own heroism. "Sycophant," muttered Ari.

"'Who is the man you most
admire?'"

Uday shrugged. "Uday
Hussein."

"I'm going to puke," muttered
Ari.

"'What is your favorite
pastime?'"

"Raping virgins," muttered
Ari.

"Car racing," scowled Uday.

Ahmad again held up his hand. "OK,
we've gotten through..."

The proprietor of the gas station
pressed his face against the front window and saw Abu Jasim
slobbering down one the station's homemade sandwiches. Another
satisfied customer. Another pig. From his Oriental demeanor, Ari
guessed this was Buddy. Joe had said Buddy's English was limited to
'Hello!' and 'Get out of my store!' Reading his current expression,
Ari wondered if the Vietnamese also knew 'Get out of my parking
lot!'

"'For an account balance, Press 1.'"
Ahmad couldn't resist. He pressed. He listened a moment. His eyes
ballooned. Then he frowned. "It's in Euros? How much are they
worth?"

"I think they're worth thirty cents
more than the dollar."

Ahmad dwelled on this. His ballooning
eyes popped and he shook his hand, as though he had been
scorched.

"Does that mean 'wow'?" Ari
asked.

Ahmad nodded vigorously. He glanced at
his uncle, whose voracity with the sandwich was matched by his
cupidity. Abu Jasim's English comprehension improved by leaps and
bounds when money was discussed. His mouth jammed with ham and
cheese and a variety of condiments, he demanded, "Howf
mufch?"

"Over 22,000,000 Euros. That's thirty
million."

Uday was looking down, absent-mindedly
rubbing the black eye Ari had inflicted. But he was thinking hard.
Ari knew Uday would not be Uday without several slimy tricks up his
sleeve.

Again, Ahmad held up his hand. "Option
2 is 'manage your account'."

"And 3?"

The young man's face lit up. "'To make
deposits or transfers...'" Ahmad pattered his hand with fear and
excitement. "Where would we transfer to?"

"I half un Cafmuh..." Abu Jasim quickly
swallowed. "I have an account in the Caymans."

"Do you now?" Ari scowled. There was
much about his factotum that he did not know. "Would you like to
share your account number with us?"

Abu Jasim's eyes went as buggy as his
nephew's. "If I say it, you'll remember..."

Ari nodded at Ahmad, who pressed 3.
After listening another moment, he said, "Fuck."

A word Uday knew in any language. He
smirked.

"Phone transfers on this account are
limited to six withdrawals of 5,000 Euros per statement cycle. If
we want more...well, he would have to present himself personally at
the bank." Ahmad glowered at Uday, as though he wanted to join the
slugfest.

Abu Jasim picked up on
most of Ahmad's English. "
Khara
..."

'Shit'
indeed
, Ari thought. The fond hope of
instant wealth faded like an equally pleasant dream.

"What now?" Ahmad asked. "Should I hang
up?"

"Press 2," said Ari.

"Manage accounts?"

Ari nodded.

"All right," Ahmad summarized: "Email
address, other contact information…ah! 'To change your password,
press 4.'" A grin spread over Ahmad's face. Ari gave him a thumbs
up. The young man pressed 4. "Aw, crap again, what is it with these
people?"

"What is it?"

"If we change the password, we won't be
able to withdraw any money until Uday shows up in person to confirm
it."

Abu Jasim brightened. "All
we have to do is find his
fatid
! Uday said he didn't set up
his account. One of his look-alikes had to have done
it!"

"His
fatid
died four years ago, creamed
in Mosul by the Americans," said Ari. "Remember the pictures they
posted for all the world to see? What was left of his face looked
like it could be Uday. I saw the double when he ran out for a
moment, when some car-thief soldier hot-wired his Lamborghini. He
fooled me, too..." Ari thought back. "But the limp was
missing..."

"You were there?" Uday said, watching
him closely.

"Sure. Who do you think sold you down
the drain? I couldn't claim the thirty million reward. I let it go
to Nawaf az-Zedain without a word of protest. And look what
happened to his relatives left behind in Iraq. I didn't know at the
time I would end up here. I couldn't put Rana and Qasim at
risk."

"You sold me out?"

"It was one of the great pleasurable
moments of my life."

Uday jumped up and tried to charge at
him. The cuffs on his ankles stalled and then tripped him. He fell
to the floor, swearing loudly. Ari rested a foot on the man's head.
"Change the password," he told Ahmad. "If we can't have the money,
neither can he."

"Change it to what?"

Uday's leap had caused the van to rock.
Abu Jasim pointed at the station shop. Buddy was holding up a phone
and pointing at it. "I think he's telling us he's going to call the
cops."

"You finished your sandwich? Half of
it's on your lap. You eat like a sow."

"Leave?" said Abu Jasim with a piggish
sneer.

"Yes, yes. Let's go." He noticed Ahmad
punching on the cell phone keypad. "What are you doing?"

"They were going to disconnect on me.
I'm putting in a new password. I'll let you know what it is..." He
glanced down at Uday, held in place by Ari's foot.
"...later."

"Please don't forget it with that soft
American memory you've inherited."

"We'll find our own
fatid
," Abu Jasim
asserted. "We know the account number, the name, the answers to all
those personal questions. All we need is some
documentation."

"Don't get it from the Chaldean Mafia!"
Ari warned. "You shouldn't mess around with those
chaps."

Abu Jasim shrugged. "We're coming up on
the command post."

"This makes up for everything!" Ahmad
said elatedly.

"What are you talking about?" Abu Jasim
demanded. "What have you suffered at the hands of this
man?"

"I mean the Bears. They're blowing the
game. I saw it on the TV at the gas station. If I'd been in Miami,
seeing it in person, I think I would've killed myself."

Ari and Abu Jasim grunted in unison.
The boy had a low pain threshold.

"You have the address where you will
leave this scum." Ari pressed some of the scum from his boot into
Uday's compressed head. "And you are no longer so fearful of him? I
would not want you to piss in your pants."