On the Heels of Evil

by D. E. Daum

  There hadn’t been any terrorist incidents in Tel Aviv for years. This had to be a plan. Another green background popped up, again with Arabic script. Kelly translated the text. This time it said, “The Islamic Jihad has warned the British people that continued support for the Zionist entity will have dire repercussions and yet you continue to support our implacable enemy. It is past the time for warnings and that is why we have destroyed your House of Commons. If you value your landmarks, indeed if you value your lives, change your ways.” There was no suicide memoriam with this declaration. Instead, it went right to another, another, and then another.

  In all, there were eight pronouncements and three suicide bomber memorials. One was from The Muslim Brotherhood, two others were from Al Qaeda, and a couple were from Islamic Jihad. Kelly held a roadmap of much of the planned terrorist activity in the near future. This was the equivalent of an anti-terrorist Rosetta Stone. He started to write down the who, what, and where, so he could email the information to Jeff, but stopped. Instead, he took the DVD, left without telling Mariam and got in his’ 2002 BMW. He headed in the general direction of the embassy, something told him to back off. He called Jeff on his global satellite phone. The phone rang for about ten rings with no answer and then it sounded as if the call was being forwarded. Finally, a familiar voice answered.

  Kelly exclaimed, “Starbird, I’ve come across something extremely important, something that could potentially cripple the terrorists, not one group, all of them. When can I meet you?”

  “I just talked to Jeff about thirty minutes ago. Why didn’t you tell him?”

  “I just discovered this DVD. When I tried to get Jeff back, the call forwarded to you.”

  “I’m not in Riyadh. Can you get to Dubai?” Jane asked.

  “That won’t work. It’s six or seven hundred miles. I would be missed, and Mariam’s suspicious. I have to talk to you about that as well, but this is huge.”

  “It’s what, seven o’clock your time? I’ll meet you at Haman’s new apartment at midnight. Write up a transcript of what’s on the DVD in English.”

  Kelly headed home. He planned to act as if nothing happened for the next five hours. He wondered if he’d have trouble locating their apartment building, but driving around actually helped him recall things. Ahhh, that could be his rationale for leaving, not that a Muslim husband ever had to answer to his wife, but his relationship with Mariam was more Westernized, based on trust and respect.

  Mariam was still reading her novel when Saleem walked back in. She glanced up momentarily, then continued reading. If Saleem has something to say to me about where he went he will have to volunteer it. That is the way he used to be. Treating me as an equal, not a piece of furniture.

  “Mariam, I went for a drive. I was hoping that seeing familiar places would jog my memory,”

  A good sign. He’s opening up. “And was it helpful?”

  “Yes, it was. I thought I wouldn’t be able to find my way back home at first. Then, things began to look familiar and I found my way back.”

  “That is wonderful. Then perhaps you now recall the answers to some of the questions you asked this afternoon?”

  I must be careful how I answer this. “No, just, bits and pieces. Much is blank, but I’m sure with your help, we can fill in the missing pieces. Can you at least tell me what transpired while I was in the hospital and later detained by the Americans?”

  “Life went on as usual. Of course, your pig brother flirted with me, as if I would sleep with a dog! He did say that your stock had risen among your friends and cohorts. Kept saying something about you being the ‘Chosen One.’ The hospital bills, which were enormous, were taken care of by Suhar. What a strange man. He stares at me as if he hates me.”

  With Mariam’s information, things were falling in place. Kelly recollected that Saleem didn’t like Suhar. He was too intense, too fanatical. Suhar thought Saleem was too sympathetic with Mariam, specifically, and Saudi women in general. Suhar had reminded him of the old Saudi proverb, “An Arab loves first his son, then his camel, and then his wife.” He was old school Wahhabi, who had a stare that pierced like a laser beam. He was not looking forward to seeing Suhar.

  Mariam was still talking, “I don’t like Arabian, and you don’t care for Malaysian cuisine. Usually, we compromise by eating American. I usually cook, and we rarely go out. You may not remember, but you are a bit of an outcast for not marrying an Arab.”

  Kelly knew all about prejudice. He’d seen it from both sides—black and white—sometimes subtle, other times blatant. His parents were the salt of the earth, he wouldn’t have traded them for anything. He looked at his watch. 8:25. Three and a half hours until the meeting.

  Mariam kept talking, “You like to watch TV when you’re not in your office. I prefer to read, though I like to watch the news and news magazines. You go to the mosque several times a day when you’re not busy, apparently to plot intrigue and the murder of friends.”

  He interrupted, “Mariam, I respect you, but I am not going to let you speak to me that way. What I do in the mosque is men’s business and if I think you should know, I will tell you.”

  “Sorry, my husband. It’s just that you seem to be so ambivalent in your goals and desires. Did you locate the video you wanted me to watch with you, my stallion?”

  It was after nine o’clock. Mariam had just given him an invitation to change the intercourse from verbal to sexual. Kelly recalled Saleem’s memories, years ago in California, when they had spent as much time in a bed as out. He had shortened her name to Mare and she’d cleverly retorted that if he was going to refer to her as his mare, she was going to call him her stallion. If sex is what she wants, who am I to turn down a woman in need, especially a gorgeous one who happens to be my wife.

  Kelly wasn’t sure if they had enough time to watch their film and have a wild time, so he said, “No, I didn’t locate it, but I’m all for sampling the ecstasies that we experienced in the video. It has been months since I’ve partaken of your nectar. Shall we adjourn to the bedroom?”

  “Gladly, but you cannot make love with those silly glasses on.” She walked over, removed them, and looked into Kelly’s eyes. Mare didn’t say anything at first. She just stared. Then she said, “This is yet one more mystery, my husband. You do not know how this happened?”

  On the spot again. After thinking for a moment. “I had dreams, strange dreams while I was in the hospital. Perhaps it had something to do with the dreams. I will tell you of them later. Maybe you could help me figure out what they mean.”

  She nodded as her long elegant fingers entwined in his. Then she led the way into the bedroom and sat him down on the bed. “Get undressed, my stallion, but don’t get under the covers.” She went into the bathroom for a short time and when she came out she headed to her nightstand and put a CD in the mini-stereo. The song that played was “Baby, Hit me One More Time,” Britney Spears’ first big hit.

  Mare started to sashay to the beat. Her hands reached up and her fingers began unbuttoning her blouse. Good God! She’s doing a striptease for me! What a bizarre stroke of luck being killed was turning out to be. First, I became a handsome guy with a linebacker bod, then I got to experience two weeks of sexual bliss, with Jane and now my beauty queen wife is preparing to jump my bones by first doing a striptease. There is no doubt, I am the luckiest man in the universe.

  Sexy glimpses of Mare’s breasts tantalized Kelly as she danced and removed her blouse. She held the blouse to her breasts, flashing them to him while she continued her gyrations. What a great song to strip to. Fully removing her blouse, he could clearly see her breasts. They stood up, nipples jutting out and he couldn’t wait to caress them, which he did with one hand when she got close.

  Mare’s provocations were driving Kelly nutty. She’d unbuttoned the side of her skirt and removed it, showing a skimpy Gstring, which barely hid her sex. He was fully aroused. Cupping and kneading one of her lovely breasts she titillated him further by pulling t
he skirt lightly over his distended temple. He grabbed for her, and dragged her Gstring down and over her dainty feet.

  Kelly was in awe. He’d never beheld a more beautiful sight. Helen of Troy, Cleopatra, Jezebel, and Bathsheba all rolled into one. He had to possess her. As he reached for his now naked spouse, she pulled away. He was confused, the look on Mare’s face had changed. “My husband, you yourself said you only wished a sampling of my charms. When you have satisfactorily explained to me why you’ve changed, we may continue from where we are now.”

  Kelly’s phallus fell over like an ice cream bar in July. How could she do this to him? Mariam donned a robe and went back into the kitchen. Naked, he followed her and exclaimed, “Mare, you just can’t do that to a man.”

  “Oh, my husband, my stallion, I can do this and have done it before, don’t you remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  Surprisingly, he did remember. It was in college. As a coed, Mariam with her extreme good looks was constantly being propositioned, and so was Saleem. Mariam would stop the advances cold, but Saleem enjoyed the attention and flirted back. He even kept three or four girls on the hook. He wasn’t doing anything with them, just having a little fun and feeding his ego, which was already the size of Pasadena.

  Mare didn’t like it and she set Saleem up just as she had set him up a few minutes ago. Saleem was frustrated. He really loved his exotic beauty and was afraid he might lose her, so he made a commitment—he proposed. With that, she melted. They then finished what they had started and were married in two months. In fact, Kelly suspected that might be when the video was made. Mariam finished the semester at Berkeley, then transferred to UCLA.

  “I remember all right, but we are still married, so I cannot propose to you again. Would it make a difference if I reiterated my undying love for you?”

  Mariam was surprised and touched. “That would be a good start, my stallion. I see you do recall some of our escapades after all.”

  “So, can we go back into the bedroom?” pleaded Kelly.

  “Well, yes, but since you are professing your undying love for me, it seems only right that you pleasure only me, and you forego your own pleasure for now. Is that all right?”

  Sounds better than nothing. “You always know how to get your way with me, don’t you?”

  Mare didn’t bother to answer. Instead, she simply removed her robe, placed his right hand over her shoulder, across her chest, onto her left breast and led him back into the bedroom.

  She paused in front of the dresser mirror and turned to face him. She grabbed his hands and started to move them all over her naked body. She took her hands away from his and put her arms around his neck, laying her head upon his chest, keeping her face toward the mirror. Mare watched and moaned, sometimes kissing, while Kelly did this for a couple of minutes, then said, “Now it’s time for the main course.”

  She went over to the bed and lay on her back, bent her knees and spread her legs. After Jane, nothing should have surprised him, but Mare did. He’d thought that Muslim women, especially like Mare, were more reserved when it came to sex and everything else for that matter. Then again, she did make an explicit sex movie with Saleem, didn’t she? Whatever her motives or passions, he planned to enjoy this to the fullest.

  Afterward, he glanced over at his wife . . . Saleem’s wife. She had just had sexual relations with a virtual stranger, who’d borrowed her late husband’s body. It was glorious. She seemed to think so, too. Maybe my methodology was just different enough to make a difference. The two weeks of sex with Jane hadn’t hurt. Well, Mrs. Rhamsy, get used to more of the same. With you, I could be insatiable.

  Chapter 2

  A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand told Kelly it was eleven o’clock. He hoped Mariam would fall asleep before he left for the meeting, but she was reading and showing no sign of drowsiness. He kissed her cheek. “I’m going back in the office for awhile, Mare.”

  She smiled and kissed him back harder. “Mmmm. I’m glad we made love.”

  He’d never got a chance to make a transcript of the tape. They would have to copy it and make a transcript later.

  Kelly wasn’t sure what all of the pronouncements meant, but there was no doubt about the seventh, which read, “America has not learned from its mistakes. In fact, it has become more contentious and aggressive after the conflagrations of September Eleventh. Your President has shown no contrition, but has spit on Islam with fallacious wars. Islam will not be deterred, nor will it be bent to the will of infidels, therefore he will be neutralized, as will any who challenge Allah’s supremacy.”

  They were planning to assassinate the president. Luckily, there was a suicide bomber memoriam after the pronouncement, so if they could locate Hamid Hasan, they’d have their man. Unfortunately, it was a very common name, and his face was mostly concealed by a scarf. His eyes weren’t hidden, though. They were intense, like Suhar’s eyes, like Mohammed Atta’s eyes. He’s going to be a handful.

  Halfway through the tape, he noticed it was time to go. Unfortunately, his luck did not hold. Mariam was still awake. “Mare, I’m going to the mosque.”

  “What for? Prayers were over at dusk and you missed them as usual.”

  “I’m going to pray alone. I have much to ask Allah, and at dusk I was praying in my office.”

  She snickered. “You were on your knees praying all right, but you were between my legs at dusk. Methinks your tongue has found a new goddess to worship. Go, and hurry back. If I’m still awake when you return, we will have an encore.”

  Kelly laughed. He went to Mariam, kissed her lips, her breasts, her belly and finally her sex where he lingered. “It is worthy of worship.”

  Grabbing the shopping bag he’d packed, he headed out the door and up the stairs to Apt. 214.

  Mariam was reading her book, which was very good, but not as good as sex with Saleem. She wondered why she had not heard the car start. True, the mosque was close enough to walk, and Saleem often did, but never at night.

  His watch read 12:04. The door was locked. He knocked softly and heard some shuffling from within. A minute or so later, the door swung open revealing a man he didn’t recognize in traditional Saudi dress.

  He started to panic, then looked past the man and saw two others, a huge man and a woman. The first man was wearing a red and white smagh, headdress over a gray jubbah, over garment. He was wearing a typical white salwar kammeez underneath. The woman wore a plain white hijab, an abaya and a veil. He looked at the giant, who wore clothing similar to the first man, except he was wearing a cotton kufi instead of a headdress. Kelly recognized Haman and breathed a sigh of relief. The woman lowered her veil, and he recognized Jane/Starbird. He embraced her, kissing her behind the ear. “God, I’m glad it’s you. For a moment…anyway, I love your outfit. You remind me of Caspar the Ghost.”

  “Don’t I though? It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, I’ve donned Arab dress.”

  Kelly reached over, grasped Haman’s forearm in a shake of comrades and patted him on the back.

  “When are you going to stop growing?” He jested.

  Haman grinned, “I can’t, I have to be big to protect you, little man.” Haman was about the size of the basketball great Shaquille O’Neil, but just under seven feet tall.

  Jane put an arm around Kelly to get his attention. “Saleem. This is Colonel Richard Dickens, my boss. He came along because of the urgency of your communication.”

  Dickens said, “We went to a lot of trouble to get here, son. What do you have for us?”

  Not liking his condescending attitude, Kelly bit his tongue and answered, “I found a video in my safe that proved to be most interesting. Did you bring a DVD player, a double would be better, so you can record the contents?”

  “It’s right here.” Dickens pointed to a nearby end table.

  “Good, You know how most of the terrorists film a memoriam, a statement, if you will, to be released after a terrorist act.r />
  “Yeah, sure. It would be nice to have advanced warning for a change, so we could be proactive instead of reactive,” answered the Colonel.

  Kelly grinned. “Funny you should mention that. You’re about to get your chance to be proactive.”

  “What do you mean? What’s on the video?” Jane finally chimed in.

  “Pronouncements of eight future terrorist attacks, that’s what. Some with suicide bombers, most without.”

  “Good God,” said the Colonel, finally getting interested. “Let’s see the damn DVD.” He pointed to a dual DVD machine and TV.

  After Kelly presented the video to Jane, she placed it in one slot and a blank disc in the other. She turned on the TV, pushed play, record, and the first screen came up.