by Jon F. Merz
I wasn’t interested in screwing around in the airplane bathroom, even if it was in first class. There’s never enough room; when I’m getting into it, I like to spread out and have room to maneuver. Nothing’s worse than being in a cramped environment; it cuts down on the enjoyment of the act itself if you’re spending half the time worried about banging your head off the sink. No thanks.
The flight to Cairo was going to take about five hours, so I brought my seat up as the plane taxied and raced down the runway to take off. Once we were airborne, I eased the seat back again, took a deep breath and ordered a glass of white wine as soon as the stewardess came around. She brought me a bottle instead of a glass along with an invitation to share a glass later on in the flight, or possibly after we touched down. I took a few minutes to explain that while I would love nothing more, I was going to be deplaning and heading right to an important business meeting, but would she be interested in rendezvous’ing in Santorini within a week?
Lucky for me she had a vacation coming up and thought that Greece and me might be just what she needed to bounce back from the winter doldrums she was experiencing at the moment. It always warms my heart when I can be of service to humanity.
Sea World kept barking for her attention and I gave serious thought to using the bottle of wine to club him senseless. At least that way I wouldn’t have to listen to him blather on for the rest of the flight. But my new friend winked at me and showed me how they handled unruly passengers sometimes. She poured some sort of narcotic into his drink and then handed it to him. As soon as he was done with the drink, he passed out for the duration of the flight.
I liked her better all the time.
The first class cabin wasn’t all that crowded, with the majority looking more or less like me: businessmen who were no doubt traveling to Egypt to secure contracts for this or that. We were all pale, so we’d no doubt get burned to a crisp as soon as we touched down, but that was okay with me. As soon as my burn was gone, I’d have a lovely tan underneath thanks to the fact that I’d inherited my father’s skin. Even though he was of German heritage, he tanned like someone who had grown up in a tropical locale.
We hit turbulence over the Mediterranean, and the air buffeted the plane something fierce. I almost wished I’d been knocked out like Free Willy across the aisle because as used to air travel as I was, the turbulence even started getting to me. And there wasn’t a parachute in sight if we suddenly went down.
My new friend came over at one point and strapped in next to me, holding on to my arm for comfort. I was glad to give it to her and she seemed genuinely appreciative. If the flight was any indication, I was going to have a stellar time hooking up with her in Santorini. I just need to make sure that whatever business Zero had in Egypt was concluded within seven days. I did not want to miss any time with this beautiful woman.
We got through the turbulence and settled into our pre-approach glide path, finally touching down in Cairo a little past seven o’cock in the evening. Walking through the terminal, I saw a whole new batch of players trying hard to blend in and not be too noticeable. There was also a heavy military presence since a lot of terrorists used Cairo as a staging area for their operations.
I moved through Customs without incident, speaking fluent Arabic to the official who had to pick his jaw up off the floor when I used Cairo slang to ask where a good restaurant was in the city. Ordinarily, I try not to stick out too much like that, since going through smoothly is often the best way. But neither did I want to stumble along in my Arabic and cause him to eye me suspiciously. I figured going fluent and native was the better option and after he’d written down careful directions - even included a hand written note of introduction to the restaurant owner who was his brother-in-law - I knew I’d made the right choice.
I grabbed my bags from the luggage turnstile and moved on, threading my way through the crowd. I noticed the Egyptian internal security service agents giving everyone a thorough scrutinization and made my way to the front of Terminal One. I spotted Zero loitering near a newsstand but didn’t approach him. He nodded casually toward the front door and I saw the line of taxis waiting to scoop up passengers and convey them into the city.
I headed out through the doors and was immediately accosted by a slew of drivers intent on being the fastest ride into Cairo. I waited until Zero grazed past me in my peripheral vision and headed toward a taxi in the back of the line. I checked my watch and then headed off toward that same taxi, leaving behind the plaintive wailings of the other drivers. I threw my bags in the trunk and then slid into the back seat next to Zero.
He gave the driver a curt instruction and then we were away from the curb before anyone was the wiser. The entire thing had taken perhaps twenty seconds.
Zero looked at me. “Welcome to Cairo.”
3
In 1981, Cairo was a city like any other, just a lot older and dirtier. Even with the recent modernization programs that had been spawned by the Anwar Sadat administration, Cairo had some of the worst slums anywhere in the world. Sprawling tracts of urban decay littered with crumbling tenements were bracketed by newer construction projects that would inevitably have their scaffolding stolen to be sold by those less fortunate. So the companies hired armed guards who routinely shot at looters and street urchins who were trying to provide for their families. This then resulted in higher levels of crime elsewhere in the city and a general feeling of aggression and hostility toward anything modern and foreign, especially.
All of which proved a fertile recruiting ground for terrorist groups. They could come into the ghetto and promise the desperate money and a chance to be something more than just another loser left behind by Sadat. To throw even more fuel on the fire, they would castigate Israel and point out how Sadat had warmed relations with them. Was this the way of Islam that the prophet had preached or had he encouraged his followers to put infidels to the sword and torch their homes?
Desperation creates opportunity and no matter what religion is the source of potential relief, zealotry is never far away and the danger it creates.
We drove through all of this as our taxi made its way toward our hotel, threading a wire thin gauntlet of potholes and old wrecks of cars barely running. Our driver hurled insults with the sort of vulgarity that always makes me smile. There’s nothing like hearing a hometown native slag down everyone and their ancestors in whatever particularly colorful way is indigenous to that city. Hey, I found it entertaining, what can I say?
“We’ll stay here tonight,” said Zero. “Tomorrow, we go to ground.”
I nodded. I don’t know exactly what we were doing here yet, but Zero would lay it all out for me as soon as he felt that it was safe to do so. I was looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep and then starting tomorrow morning. The faster this was done, the better. I had an appointment in Greece that I need to make sure I kept.
We arrived at the hotel and as we pulled up, the door was opened by the doorman. He was smartly dressed and welcomed us both with a smile. Some distance behind him, I spotted an armed security guard with a Kalashnikov slung over his right shoulder. I didn’t know how fast he could bring it to bear if he needed to, but I found its presence at least a little bit more comforting given the amount of crime that seemed to be rampant in the city.
Inside, Zero checked us into the two bedroom suite and we took the elevator up to the fifth floor. As usual, we’d gone high enough that our floor wasn’t accessible by someone climbing and yet we could still safely navigate our way down if we need to.
The bellhop showed us inside and Zero tipped him before he left and we got to work. The first order of business, as it always was, was to check the room over for bugs. The Soviets and the Americans both were routinely buying off hotels to install listening devices into certain rooms or the entire hotel itself. And in this part of the world, you could bet the Israelis were also in the infestation market.
While Zero took his bedroom, I swept mine and then we both came ou
t into the living area. Zero turned on the television set to run some background noise while I switched on the faucet in the bathroom, running the water cold for a few minutes while we checked the place over.
We found one behind the framed picture of a pyramid landscape scene. It was much smaller than I’d seen before in this part of the world. Zero held up one finger like an “I” for the Israelis. I found another bug in the base of a lamp close to the couch. This one I knew was American.
We dropped both of them down the toilet and flushed. Zero did a check of the telephone but came up clean and after twenty minutes, we felt certain we’d gotten them all of the bugs.
I collapsed on the couch. “Good to know I’ve got a job in extermination if this thing ever gets to be too boring.”
“I think it’s gotten worse lately,” said Zero. “Either that or someone is ramping up the bugging for some reason we don’t know about yet. That Israeli one was a nice design, huh?”
“Smaller than I would have expected.”
Zero nodded. “We just got some sample back to the Council, so I’m sure they’ll be reverse engineering them if they haven’t already.” He sat down. “In the meantime…” His voice trailed off as he reached into his bag and produced two small flasks and handed me one of them.
I took the cap off and smelled the blood. “You don’t have this chilled, do you?”
Zero frowned. “Just drink it already. I can’t have you always requesting a wine cooler just because you hate drinking warm blood.” He tilted the flask and took a hit of his own.
I did the same even though I hated the warm syrupy texture of it. I brought it down from my lips, swallowing hard. When the life force energy hit me a few moments later, I closed my eyes and let it flood through my system.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Zero. “Although honestly, it’s like watching a little kid try to eat his vegetables at dinner with you.” He laughed. “I suppose we can’t all be as into it as some of us are, right? You can’t tell me you’re not the only one either. No doubt there are others who have born into our world who grow up thinking the same as you.”
“Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one,” I said. “But I get by.”
“I think it gives you a unique angle,” said Zero. “A bizarre one, granted, but unique nonetheless.”
“So what-maybe use it as a pick up line or something? ‘Hi, I’m Lawson and I hate drinking blood?’”
Zero laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot. I’m sure you’d have them lining up in their attempt to convince you that blood is actually delicious. Half of them would have old family recipes they’d want to cook for you with the goal of getting you to say that you enjoyed it.”
“You seem to think I have this massive fan club.”
“Don’t you? I’ve seen the way the ladies look at you.” Zero smiled. “Nothing wrong with that. You’re young. Capable. You should be enjoying yourself.”
“Well, it just so happens I have an appointment in Greece in about a week, so the sooner we wrap this matter up, the better.”
“Stewardess?”
I grinned. “Yes.”
Zero put his flask away and then sat back down on the couch. “All right then. We’ll do our best to get this resolved as fast as possible. I wouldn’t want your loins getting upset at me.”
I shook my head. “That’s quite an image.”
Zero looked at me and I saw that his serious face had slipped back over his demeanor. The joking was gone and it was time to talk business. “For the last six months, I’ve been trying to learn as much as I can about how the biggest terrorist groups are being financed. We’ve seen the reports of hijackings, kidnappings, bombings, and the like. The question has been where do these groups get their money?”
“I didn’t think that was much in question,” I said. “We know that they’re being sponsored by various states with an interest in promulgating terrorism to support their political agenda. The Soviet Union, Iran, Libya…they’re all behind it.”
“That’s absolutely correct,” said Zero. “The Soviets fight the Americans via proxy wars in shitty little hellholes all over the world. In other places, they use terrorism. It’s convenient and it works for them. In the meantime, innocents get killed. Including our people.”
“It takes more than a car bomb to kill us, though,” I said.
Zero nodded. “True, but you’d be amazed at how many of our people have been killed in the collateral damage that happens. A bomb will produce enough fragmentation of wood that flying splinters can easily stake a vampire the same way a human can be killed. And in the last five years, we’ve lost a number of our people in just that way.” He paused. “No one knows they’re vampires, of course, because by the time the first responders reach the scene, our people have already expired and have left nothing to distinguish them from human corpses. But the deaths are deaths just the same.”
“So the Council directed you to do what?”
Zero shook his head. “No, the Council didn’t direct me to do any of this. I’ve done it myself. It’s been a pet project of mine. I want to know where the money is coming from and how it’s getting to the terrorist groups. If it was just a matter of funneling it into bank accounts, the western governments could easily shut it down by freezing assets, imposing fines, or just grabbing it themselves. No money, no training and bomb making for terrorists.”
“That’s not what is happening, though, is it?”
“It depends,” said Zero. “There are definitely some groups that are getting their funds that way. Normally, they’ll establish a front charity that receives donations and then cashes them out and gets that to the terrorists. So say, if I’m a wealthy businessman from Algeria and I want to slip some cash to the Irish Republican Army, I might disperse some funds to a so-called charity for Northern Ireland. Friends of Armagh, or some such bullshit, knowing full well that the money will be used to by plastic explosive, Armalite rifles, and night scopes for the boyos.”
“Doesn’t that mean the governments have a lot of forensic banking to do?”
“Yeah,” said Zero. “Which is why there has to be another method because doing it through banks leaves too much of a trail that can be back-walked to the source. And that source can then be eliminated if need be.”
“What have you found out then?”
“There’s a network of bag men,” said Zero. “Middle level couriers who transport large sums of cash from sponsors to recipients that slip through the cracks and are, for the most part, immune to surveillance and counter-measures.”
“You know this for a fact?”
“I know that there’s one in particular who seems to be fueling a great deal of terrorist activity. And this one person is here in Cairo. My plan is to track him down and eliminate him. And if things go well, I’ll work my way back from there and eliminate anyone else in the pipeline. Send a signal that this sort of behavior will no longer be tolerated.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a hefty meal on that plate. You could be killing people for years and still not put a dent into it.”
Zero nodded. “I know it.”
“So what makes this one guy so special? What is it about him that necessitates his elimination as quickly as this?”
“He’s one of us,” said Zero.
“You’re joking.”
“Not at all. Apparently, he’s got quite the reputation for being the best at his job and has carved out a niche for himself.”
“If that’s true then tell the Council and they’ll sanction his ass faster than we can blink.”
“Can’t do that,” said Zero.
“Why on earth not?”
“Because,” said my mentor. “He’s being protected by someone in the Council itself. And we can’t afford to let him anyone know we’re coming for this guy otherwise he’ll disappear. Forever.”
4
Over breakfast the next morning, Zero continued to fill me in on our target
. We sat at the small cafe within the hotel itself, overlooking a busy street scene outside. Traffic zipped by while peddlers pushed small carts laden with figs and other fruits. In the cafe itself, we managed to get a table away from the majority of other diners, which was good because at least three of them looked like they were spies of some sort. In this part of the world, it was difficult putting countries to faces unless they were as white as Zero and I were.
“Our target is a man named Nadi,” said Zero as he speared another bit of sausage. “He’s the principal money man for the baddest of the bad. We need to get close to him, get his confidence, and then ply him for as much information as he has before we eliminate him.
“And then what? Go to the Council with what we found out?”
Zero shook his head. “I don’t know yet. If it turns out he’s being protected by a Council member, then we’ll have to tread carefully. That might mean eliminating the Council member as well. And not by our usual means. We might need it to look accidental.”
“Easier said than done,” I said. “But let’s get to Nadi first and then we can worry about how far up it goes.”
Zero nodded. “Exactly.”
Our waitress came by again. She was paying an awful lot of attention to Zero. She kept refilling his coffee even though he’d only managed to have a few sips since the last time she’d been by.
“So who do you plan to get us close?”
Zero smiled. “There was a method to my madness when I approached you about this op. Remember Seoul?”
I put my fork down. “You’re not serious.”
Zero’s smile stayed in place. “Hey, it worked like a charm, didn’t it? I mean, I thought it was great and very convincing apparently.”
“You know what it was like to have to keep that up for so long?”
“I can only imagine,” laughed Zero. “But it certainly gave those girls a real thrill. Just think: you made them so happy.”
“I guess.” I sighed. “Really? Again?”
