by D S Kane
She smiled at him, examining his beard, gray hairs within it showing his age. “How rude of me,” she said in Arabic. “I haven’t introduced myself. You must be Pesi Houmaz. I am Cassandra Sashakovich. To you I am death incarnate. You don’t have to be polite. The pleasure will be all mine.”
The man’s eyes involuntarily opened wide as he stared back. He was sinking into shock from his wounds.
Thirty feet away in the restroom, Pesi sat on the toilet. The muted gunfire from the courtyard alerted him. Drawing the semiautomatic pistol from his shoulder holster with his right hand, he wiped himself swiftly with a wad of toilet tissue in his left hand, then got up and rebelted his pants.
He walked to the door and cracked it open. Looking out, he saw one of the intruders. Pesi fired at JD, grazing his backside. JD screamed in pain and Pesi bolted from the restroom with a shooter’s stance, reconnoitering the hallway.
Pesi was adrenalized, excitement pouring into his system as he saw another stranger. He fired but missed, and Ari turned, returned fire, putting a bullet into Pesi’s gut. He yelled, dropping the gun. Shimon and Lester dragged Pesi into the conference room. Cassie looked at the younger, beardless man in confusion. This one’s nose was flatter, his skin lighter. “Who is he?” she asked Tariq.
Lester repeated the question and placed the barrel of his Ruger against the shooter’s chin. In pain, he groaned, “I’m Pesi Houmaz.”
It dawned on her she had both of them here. Tariq hadn’t been buried in the caves. She smiled with pure delight. She didn’t need both. She could use one as an example.
She could see Pesi’s wound was likely fatal, but he would take at least a half hour to bleed out, certainly more than enough time for her to complete her work. She told the Mossad agents, “Please apply tourniquets to Tariq’s wounds, and Dermabond glue to Pesi’s. We don’t want them dying before we’re done.”
She pointed to the conference room chairs. “As we discussed, remove all their clothes and bind them into chairs. Lester, turn on the camera and record this interrogation.” He positioned the camera on a tripod and turned it on.
Tariq yelled at her, his voice hoarse and beginning to fail, “You’re an obscene whore, serving the interests of imperialists who want our oil and don’t care what happens to our people. Your death would have served as an example, if not to your people, then to ours.”
She knew this much was true. But there was more. She replied, “Yes, I guess it might. But how can you justify the murder of innocents, especially children?”
He glared at her. “No one is innocent in your world. Our best weapons are brave men and women who sacrifice themselves to make our point.” He hawked and spat into Cassie’s face.
She wiped his spittle from her cheek. She could barely control her hands as she opened her knapsack and removed a hammer, a belt sander, and other tools. It took a deep breath to center herself. She donned surgical gloves and a dentist’s face-shield. “Even if what you say gives you justification, it creates people like me who want to torture the torturers. I’m just as evil as you are. You created me. Now it’s an eye for an eye, me and the two of you. And there will be many more like me if you don’t learn another way to make your point.”
Tariq tried struggling but with his arms shredded below his elbows, his movements accomplished nothing.
She shook her head. “What you failed to realize is that there was a reason why the United States funded your acts of terror. My government used you. You were tools of the very men you despise. Shame on you.”
Tariq screamed, “You’re lying.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s the truth. They could have taken you out anytime they wanted to. You were never safe, but as long as you performed to their specifications, they let you do their dirty work. Now America expects terrorism and will fund a fight to the death against you. They even had me reclaim the funds they sent you so they could recycle them to you. But no longer. The money is mine now, including what you sent to the warlords in Upper Pachir.”
Tariq’s face was a mask of surprise.
She looked at the two naked brothers in front of her and smiled grimly. “You tried to mutilate my body and murder me. It’s payback time. I’ve looked forward to this moment from the time I escaped your assassin in Riyadh. Neither of you will survive the next hour. What we have left to negotiate is how much pain you suffer before I send you screaming to Hell. If you tell me what you intend to do in Washington later this week, I’ll just shoot you both in the head.”
Tariq faced Pesi. “You were wrong, brother.”
She nodded. “I want details. Tell me and your deaths will be fast and painless. Or you can remain silent and suffer more pain than you could ever possibly imagine. What’s it to be?”
Cassie prayed one or both of the brothers would talk. So little of what she had once been still remained. She wanted to dice them to pieces. What would happen to her if she went through with this? But if what she suspected was true, she’d need as much information as she could get. The lives of so many innocent people were at stake. Cassie waited but neither brother spoke.
Cassie shook her head. “You want games? When you attempted to assassinate me, terminated my career, and forced me to flee my apartment in Washington, this was the only possession I took.” She showed the brothers her chef’s knife. “It’s so sharp you won’t feel anything for a few seconds.”
She motioned to Michael and Shimon and they bent over Tariq’s torso, holding it fixed into the chair. Cassie gripped the head of his penis as tightly as she could, whispering, “You will no longer need this.” She felt disembodied as she always did before she killed.
But this wasn’t self-defense, and she couldn’t force her hand to cut off his manhood. She stood with one hand holding him and the other holding the knife. She forced herself to move, but nothing happened. She clenched the hand holding the knife as the seconds streamed past.
Lester came from behind and touched her shoulder. “Please. Let me.” She surrendered the knife. Both her hands shook.
An unknown part of her stared into Tariq’s eyes as Lester sliced the penis from him in one quick move. The shock of the act jolted through her. It was as if a part of her had been ripped away. Lester left most of the penis stem attached and pulsing blood onto Tariq’s legs. The terrorist remained silent, braced and grimacing.
Lester handed the head of the penis to her but she moved away, revulsion filling her.
“Now this,” Lester held up a battery-operated wood sander, “will hurt like the dickens.” He plugged it in and turned it on. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather talk with us?”
Once again, Tariq spat at Cassie. He screamed in pain, “You’re mad.”
She suspected this was true. But part of her felt a thrill at his claim. “Yes, I am.”
They had positioned Pesi’s chair where he couldn’t see what they did to his brother but Tariq’s screams filled the room as Lester applied the spinning wheel of the sander to the stem of Tariq’s headless bleeding penis. She knew he could see the bits of red flesh and blood spray into the air. She turned his seat and displayed the resulting shreds of Tariq’s flesh all the way down to his torso. “Guys, stop the bleeding with some Dermabond.” Her bodyguards stepped forward and squirted a large amount of clear glue onto the deep gaping space where Tariq’s organ used to be. The wound still bled, but not as fast.
Cassie felt herself come apart. More and more distant from herself, she heard herself say, “Where was I? Oh yes, I have to leave the world a message. Not from me, but from the agency. I’ll burn it into your flesh.”
She took a soldering iron, plugged it into a wall socket and shook her head. “Cost plenty to find one that works in Saudi Arabia, but like the telly commercial says, it’s priceless. Got this one at a hardware store near the airport. I bought it when we were on our way here after blowing up the caves with seven hundred of your men inside.”
When Tariq showed surprise, Cassie replied to his unasked questio
n. “Oh. I forgot to tell you before. Sorry. I killed all of them. Every one. All dead now. It took a few hours. Now it’s just you two.” Smoke rose from its tip as it heated. “Change your mind yet? Wanna talk and I’ll kill you painlessly? I warn you the next act in our drama will be much more painful.”
Tariq’s lips moved but no words came out. He spat out “No!”
She shook her head. Too bad, she thought, but she didn’t know whether it was too bad for Tariq or for her. And maybe it was too late for her as well.
Lester had to finish the work on Tariq by himself. The soldering iron still glowed, lying on the ground amid a growing pool of Tariq’s blood. He hung from the wall, naked, legs dangling in empty air, his mutilated body penetrated by a spear at his anus, driven from his bottom deeply into his torso, his arms, missing hands, were pinioned by the spikes along the top of the wall.
Blood seeped in pulse-beat from the space where his penis had once been, oozed down in droplets from his destroyed arms. The handle of the spear’s shaft dripped red. He looked like some massive butterfly displayed in a collector’s case. He blinked madly as he fought death, struggling to breathe.
Cassie lay on the floor in fetal position. Her eyes were closed and she repeated the phrase “What have I done?” over and over.
Lester lifted Cassie to her feet. “Cassie, collect yourself. I’m done. You had nothing to do with what I did. Understand?”
She shook herself. “Okay. I can function. Please. Leave me be.” She turned her face toward the wall so no one could see. In a much quieter voice, she said, “Show Pesi how his crucified brother looks.” Her words seemed to come from a place distant, deep within. The bodyguards moved the younger brother’s chair closer to Tariq.
She remained facing the wall as she spoke. “Look! The two remaining spikes and the other spear anchor are empty, Pesi. They’re reserved for you. Unless you have something real good to tell me, that is. If you have something to share with me, I might just kill you painlessly with a headshot. It would be so much easier.”
Without turning to face him, she was sure Pesi could see Tariq’s eyes, still blinking, his face full of pain and anguish, the expression on his face reflecting a total loss of everything. Pesi remained silent as the Mossad agents dragged his chair close to her. She faced Lester. “I’m ready now. I think I can do this.”
There was nothing left inside her that resembled the woman she’d been before her rape that last night in Riyadh.
She grinned at Pesi. “It will be my pleasure to rip you to pieces.” She grabbed the chef’s knife and reached for his penis.
Pesi flinched and sobbed. He looked up at his torturer and cried, “Wait! I’ll tell you everything.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
September 8, 2:46 a.m.
Houmaz family estate, east outskirts of Riyadh, Saudi Arabia
The blood-coated hammer dropped from Lester’s hand. He took off the dentist’s mask, surgical gloves, and apron.
Cassie drew the wooden box containing the head of Tariq Houmaz’s penis from her pocket and found herself staring at it. The Houmaz brothers were certainly evil, but weren’t they human? If they weren’t, then, was she?
She was drowned in confusion, revolted by herself and her feelings. Was she was still human? Was she evil? How could she tell? She still felt split into two parts. A piece of her rejoiced at her victory over her hunters and the discovery of their larger plot. The other part flashed visions of what she’d been before her journey started. Years ago, she’d been a nice girl, naïve perhaps, but not the destroyed raging monster she was now.
She stopped touching the box. She noticed the smell of death, the flies, the afternoon sun on the chalkboard of the conference room. She whispered, “I did this.” She ran for the restroom and vomited repeatedly, even though there was little in her stomach.
Her parents would have been revolted had they seen this. Even her father, with his career working with the KGB, would have shaken his head. As an economist, he’d never be able to accept his daughter as a murderess. Her dad and mom were decent people. What was she? Could she ever return to what she’d once been? Could she ever become normal again?
Get ahold of yourself! Cassie shook her head to clear her mind and regain focus and thought about their mission. Urgent matters that required her attention.
JD stood—he’d taken Pesi Houmaz’s bullet in the fatty part of his butt and he couldn’t comfortably sit. He shook his head, trying to comprehend what Pesi told them. “Could he have told us the truth?” He pointed to Pesi’s naked corpse, now upright on its own spear.
“I don’t know.” Cassie scratched her ear, driving away one of the hundreds of flies that came to feast on the bodies. “Damn, if it is true, this is worse than anything that’s ever threatened the United States. Much worse than nine-eleven. A pending holocaust. But between Pesi’s confession and the information Major LeFleur extracted from the terrorists in Upper Pachir, we can be close to certain it’s true. Too bad he bled out before he could tell me the name of the mole.”
She held the disk drive up and pointed to it. “If we can break through the encryption, we can add all the other evidence to these computer files Pesi pointed us to. The total is enough to convince me it was all worth the effort. There is a terrorist cell in place with three nuclear bombs intent on destroying Washington, DC. Shit! The question is, what do we do with this intel?”
Lester nodded. “Good question. Who in the American intelligence community trusts you? No one. In the Israeli intelligence community, who trusts any of us? No one. How can we find someone who will listen before the terrorists explode their bombs in three days?”
JD nodded in agreement. “We spent weeks crafting the plans we just executed so effectively. This time we don’t even have a plan. We’re totally unequipped to deal with this. No one else who is better equipped will believe us if we tell them. We could remain silent and simply stay away from Washington, but if we did, who among us could live with the deaths of five million innocents on our consciences?”
All sat silent, alone with their own thoughts. Ari offered, “Complex problem. Whatever we do will cause unintended consequences. If we leak word of this to the media, it would probably cause the terrorists to explode the bombs as soon as the news hit the airwaves, to maximize death and destruction before anyone could evacuate. So that isn’t an option.”
She came to a decision. “Get me a vanilla satphone. If this conversation can be tapped, it might help. Any intelligence agency listening would then share our problem. I’m calling General Shimmel. He needs to know. He’s our strategy and tactics expert. Someone at Mossad might listen to him. Oh, yeah, we have to tell him the mission was a success.”
JD handed her one of the Houmaz brothers’ nonsecure satellite phones. She entered the number and turned on the speaker, praying some intelligence agency had tapped the line.
Lee answered. Cassie’s voice changed, suddenly much softer. Even her bodyguards reacted, their expressions less hard as her voice no longer expressed the hate and tension emanating from her just moments before. “Lee, it’s over and we’re okay. Everything we’d originally planned to do is done. Except that the name of the mole wasn’t on the disk drive we recovered from Pesi Houmaz’s computer, and he died before he could tell us who it is.”
She listened to his reply, pledging his devotion. “Good. We’re ready to come home now. But we now know things, new facts, and we need analysis and guidance from Avram. Before you put him on, please know how much I miss you. I can’t wait to be with you.”
Shimmel picked up the phone and coughed. “Congratulations, Cassie, on your victories. Ach, and I just spoke with Major LeFleur. His men broke through the blocked cave and, of the ten MIAs he lost, seven are dead and their bodies now recovered, but two were badly wounded and trapped within the cave. Both will live. Only one is missing now and feared dead.”
Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. The voice—Cassie’s conscience, or what little w
as left of it—cried out. Those men died doing her bidding.
She shook herself back to the current reality. “Thanks for this information, Avram. I’ll make substantial payments to their next of kin. But we have something serious still left on our plate. While we were interrogating the Houmaz brothers, we discovered they intend to explode three nuclear devices in Washington DC at or around noon Eastern Time less than three days from now, repeat, sixty-eight hours from now. I’ll pass you digital files of our conversation with Pesi Houmaz and the files we found on his computer in a few seconds. The computer files are heavily encrypted so we’ll need a hacker. Please review this data and call me back as soon as you are prepared to discuss alternatives. We’re done here and are headed to Riyadh airport. That’ll take about ninety minutes.”
“I’ll have a Lear waiting at the private air terminal.”
“Good. You have to decide our destination and file a flight plan before we board. Cassie out.” She prayed the agency had tapped the conversation but in her heart she was convinced the mole would never have permitted it. And there probably was no tap from any other intelligence agency.
She faced her bodyguards. Cassie said, “Thanks for your help. We’re done here.”
Less than ten minutes later, rolling down the driveway, past the flattened guards’ hut, the garbage truck was now filled to overflowing with eighteen able-bodied soldiers and one wounded soldier on a stretcher, eleven dead mercs in body bags, plus Cassie and her Mossad bodyguards.
They left the dead hostiles to the flies and birds, now gathering to feast off the softer parts of their exposed flesh.
The mercenaries traveled toward the airport for a half hour before the GNU radio buzzed and Cassie hit the Receive button. She plugged the phone into a small speaker.
