The Terrorist's Holiday

by Andrew Neiderman

  Their car was parked a considerable distance down the highway, away from the hotel. Although it was a main road, there were no lights. Except for the beams of an occasional car, there was complete darkness. It was a moonless night with some overcast as well. Hamid waited within the car, a dark shadow seated in the back.

  As soon as Tandem and Yusuf had left the automobile, Hamid had taken out his pistol and screwed on the silencer. He knew what had to be done. The Claw’s orders had been definite. The moment Tandem got back into the car, he would shoot him quickly in the back of the head. His value to them would be completed after he had helped Yusuf to get to Nessim. They knew Tandem lived for a single act of great revenge and would probably lose interest in them and their cause when it was all over anyway. What’s more, he knew too much. After Hamid killed him, he would put his body into the car trunk and they would dump it out somewhere off the country road later.

  But Tandem had plans of his own. As he watched Yusuf disappear anxiously through the entranceway, he waited for a sufficient time and then followed him in. He remained way back, listening to be sure Yusuf was far ahead of him. When Tandem came to a stairway leading up to the main floor, he stopped, looked down the corridor, and then went up.

  Yusuf reached the rendezvous point successfully and crouched in the darkness to wait for his brother. His heart beat madly. He saw the steel girders before him. He had, of course, seen them in the photographs, but being here now, able to reach out and touch them, was a totally overwhelming experience for him. All his dreams, his visions of grand destruction and death were about to be realized. He longed for the sound of Nessim’s footsteps in the corridor.

  23

  Solomon Oberman couldn’t believe his eyes. When his son had failed to mention anything about the incident he had reported to the main desk the night before, he thought something was peculiar. Although David was very busy, he wouldn’t have forgotten something like that. He finally asked him if Charlie Gordon had left any messages for him and David said, “Nothing unusual. Why?” He described it to him, and David said he would ask Gordon about it.

  Then Solomon thought, Well, maybe it was just a bunch of teenagers fooling around and it wasn’t that important. What he didn’t believe, however, was that the security man and Gordon had taken sufficient action to be sure it wouldn’t happen again. To them it was probably just a harmless prank. Solomon still had the belief that you had to ride herd over the staff and let them know you were always around. He never liked the idea that David lived in a house away from the hotel, even though the house was on the hotel property. It was the difference between David’s “modern” approach to the business and Solomon’s traditional way. The old concept of a resort was that it served as home and a place of business at the same time. The guests got that feeling; the staff had that feeling; and it helped build the warm image of the hotel.

  In any case, his suspicions about the effectiveness of Gordon and the security man were confirmed. He had deliberately sat by the window as late as he had the night before, and sure enough, there was the same dark figure making his way down the fire escape. He watched him for a moment and cursed. Then he went to the telephone.

  He hated to do it, but there was no alternative. Because he was actively away from the hotel now, the staff just didn’t pay enough attention to him anymore. He had lost touch, and they had forgotten his authority. Perhaps that annoyed him more than anything else. It certainly hurt his pride, and he was very angry about it. But most important, something crazy was going on at the hotel, and it couldn’t be permitted to continue. After all, they had insurance obligations and who the hell knew what these kooky kids were capable of doing. Maybe they were terrorizing guests in their rooms. Maybe they were stealing. It had to be stopped, even if it meant his getting dressed and going over there himself.

  He dialed his son’s number. It rang twice. He knew the phone was right beside David, near the bed. He was only sorry it would wake Gloria, but he imagined they had received emergency calls late at night before.

  “Hello.” David’s voice cracked with sleep.

  “David, listen to me,” he began.

  “Dad? Are you all right?”

  “I’m all right,” he said quickly, impatient with his son’s concern, but understanding it. “When I’m ready to die, I’ll let you know in advance.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You remember that story I told you at Seder tonight?”

  “Story? … It’s Dad,” Solomon heard David say and imagined Gloria waking up. “What story?”

  “About those kids crawlin’ on the fire escape. The ones Gordon and your new man, Hardik, found after I called them.”

  “Oh yeah. What about it? Jesus, it’s three thirty in the morning, Dad.”

  “They’re out there again,” Solomon said, ignoring his son’s comment on the time. “Some fear your new security man put into them.”

  “On the fire escape again? You saw them? You’re sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I saw them just now. Down the fire escape, comin’ down from I don’t know which floor, for God sakes, and going into the basement again. Maybe they’re botherin’ people in their rooms, peepin’ in or somethin’. Maybe they’re stealin’, David. This is not a funny business.”

  “No one’s complained about it, Dad. As far as I know, that is.”

  “You better call the main desk and tell them, David. We can’t have them out there on the fire escape and who the hell knows what they’re doin’ when they get into the basement.”

  “Right, Dad.”

  “I’m sorry I had to call you, but …”

  “It’s all right. What were you doing up so late anyway?”

  “I … I couldn’t sleep so I sat up for a while reading,” he said.

  “Last night too?”

  “It’s the lousy hotel food,” he replied, trying to cloak his problem in a joke. David was silent for a moment. “I’m all right,” Solomon repeated.

  “Okay, Dad. Don’t worry, I’ll call the main desk and make sure they take action. Don’t worry.”

  “Apologize to Gloria for me, but tell her that’s what comes of marrying a hotelman.”

  “She knows,” David said. Solomon could hear the smile in his son’s voice.

  After he hung up, he went back to the window. What the hell were things coming to anyway? If parents couldn’t control their children, then the children oughta be placed in homes where people could take care of them, he thought. Especially teenagers. You’d think they’d have a little more respect on Passover, he concluded and shook his head in disgust.

  When Yusuf saw Nessim coming down the corridor, he nearly shouted for joy. It took all his self-control to simply stand and move out into his brother’s view. Nessim moved quickly to his side and they embraced.

  “No problem getting in?”

  “No. Tandem gave me perfect directions, and it was easy getting past the custodial people.”

  “And Tandem—you left him outside?”

  “At the garbage truck entrance. I’m to meet them at the car. It’s down the road, well hidden. Hamid is waiting with it.”

  “Good.” Nessim was visibly relieved.

  “How has it been going here? You’re a Passover Jew?”

  “No problem. I’ve studied this area. We must work fast,” he said, pulling Yusuf out of the corridor. “Watch now as I plant the first packet. Then you will plant the packets on the farthest two girders. You’ll have to crawl to the cement footings there. The basement slants, and the walls are closer. Their placement has been marked off for you.”

  Yusuf just nodded. Nessim went to the first cement footing and began his work. After the detonator was attached, the plastique was molded and stretched so that it embraced the footing like the long legs of a giant daddy longlegs spider. Nessim worked his lethal sculpture carefully but
quickly. Yusuf had seen and done it before under his brother’s tutelage, but the significance and the importance of this job required that he get renewed instructions.

  “Be extra careful with this switch. If these ends should touch, even for a split second, you’ll ignite the explosive and blow yourself all over this basement.”

  “I understand.”

  “All right,” Nessim said as he completed the implanting of the first packet. “Then go ahead. Take the two deepest girders.” He handed him the two packets, and Yusuf, holding them gingerly, went off, deeper into the belly of the building.

  Nessim watched him for a moment and then started on the second girder’s footing. He had just completed it when he heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor. This time he recognized that two people were approaching. He moved quickly back to find Yusuf and warn him.

  “What is it?”

  “Some people are coming. Stop work and wait.”

  The two of them came back toward the corridor and leaned into the shadows so they could watch relatively unseen. But this time, whoever it was had brought a flashlight. The beam moved over the wall as if it had a consciousness of its own. It moved in and out of dark shadows, behind crates and under platforms.

  “Maybe they know we’re here,” Yusuf whispered. He took his long switchblade out of his pocket.

  “Shh.” Nessim squeezed his arm hard.

  Two security guards appeared. They stepped right by the first girder. Although they were both unarmed, Nessim took the .25-caliber automatic out of his belt. Yusuf shifted his weight in anticipation. They could hear the guards talking.

  “Well, just like it was last night. What’d I tell ya, Marty. The old man’s drinkin’ or something.”

  “Maybe, or maybe there are some kids fuckin’ around,” Marty said. They were both standing only a few inches away from the first packet of plastique, now firmly placed on the cement footing. The first guard leaned against the girder and took a cigarette out of his top shirt pocket.

  “We’ll stay down here a while so it’ll look like we’re really bustin’ our balls searchin’ the place, but hell, I ain’t gonna go crawlin’ around all over this filthy basement lookin’ for some kids, are you?”

  “Hell no.”

  “What the hell would they be comin’ down here this time a night for anyway?”

  “I once caught two teenagers screwing down here.”

  “No shit.”

  “Yeah. Found ’em in the paper room, doin’ it on a coupla cartons of toilet tissue. I heard this moaning and groanin’, see, and peered in. There’s a coupla asses, moving and grindin’ away.

  I flipped on the light and the girl, she screamed. The poor son of a bitch had his dingle danglin’ in the air.”

  “Whatcha do?”

  “I put the light out again and walked away.”

  “Big-hearted bastard.”

  They both laughed. Then Marty lifted the flashlight again and directed it in front of them. He brought the beam around in a slow circle. Nessim and Yusuf anticipated it and when it reached them, they knelt even farther down.

  “If they see the plastique,” Nessim whispered, “I will have to shoot. Move out quickly. I’ll go up and get Clea and join you at the garbage truck entrance.”

  The beam of light was just above their heads. It lingered there a moment and then moved on to the right. Nessim rose slowly and watched as the guard leaning against the girder suddenly took his cigarette and poked it out by pressing it against the cement footing, only inches above the line of plastique.

  “Let’s get the fuck outta here now,” the guard said.

  Marty grunted and they started back down the hall. Nessim and Yusuf remained in the shadows a while longer. Then they stepped out slowly and walked farther into the corridor to check after the guards.

  “We’d better hurry now, huh?” Yusuf said.

  “No. They’ve checked out the area. They shouldn’t be back. Perhaps someone saw you enter the basement or saw me on the fire escape. In any case, do it carefully. I want this right.”

  “I will,” Yusuf said and went back to his girders.

  Nessim stayed out in the corridor listening awhile longer before going back to his cement footings. When he had completed his work, he stuffed the cloth bag behind some pipes and joined Yusuf near the first girder again.

  “I wish I could stay with you,” Yusuf said. “I wish I could be at your side when you detonate all this.”

  “You’ll be close enough to see and hear it all.”

  “Maybe you’ll need help tomorrow, when you plant the backup.”

  “No. In any case, stay close to Hamid. I’m still worried about this man Tandem.”

  “He’s been no problem,” Yusuf said. Nessim simply stared at him. “All right,” Yusuf said. “Let me do something,” he added, suddenly smiling. “Give me that marker.”

  “Why?”

  “Just give it to me. Only a moment more. Please.”

  Nessim handed him the pen and watched as his brother knelt down at the cement footing and began to draw. He created the picture of a small hawk with a sword through it.

  “Our symbol,” he said. Nessim laughed. Then they embraced again. “Thank you, my brother,” Yusuf said, “for making me part of the Seder Project.”

  “Pray for the day when there are no more Seder Projects,” Nessim replied, but Yusuf did not seem to hear or understand him. “Take care going back out. You must not be seen now.”

  “I won’t be. Kiss Clea for me.”

  “I will.”

  “See you tomorrow night,” Yusuf said. His face was lit with anticipation.

  Nessim squeezed his arm and then indicated he should go. He stood there watching Yusuf move quickly through the corridor and away, clinging to the shadows like a creature of darkness and death. When he was out of sight, Nessim turned to look at the girders and their loaded cement footings once more. Then he made his way to the basement door. The great death was waiting. It was like a sleeping beast that need only be nudged.

  24

  Nessim opened the door to his room slowly and walked in to face a smiling Paul Tandem, seated on the chair by the dresser. He stood staring in disbelief and then closed the door quietly behind him. Clea, a look of confusion on her face, stood in her bathrobe on the other side of the room. She seemed to have put the most distance possible between herself and Tandem.

  “What the hell are you doing here? Are you crazy? How will Yusuf get out safely?”

  “Relax,” Tandem said, folding his arms across his body and leaning back in the chair, forcing it to tip against the wall. “He knows his way in and out now. It’s easy. Don’t need me to babysit him.”

  “Why did you come into the hotel? If they saw you, there’d be questions, wouldn’t there?”

  “No one’s seein’ me unless I want them to. I know this place better than the Obermans know it. Is everything set?”

  “I don’t understand … Why …” He looked at Clea.

  “He came to the door. I thought he had been with you in the basement,” she said.

  “Is it all set?” Tandem asked again, a more demanding tone of voice directed at Nessim.

  “It’s all set.”

  “Good. Now listen to me,” he said, sitting up straight again. “There’s going to be a slight change in plans.”

  “What change? Who ordered it?”

  “I’m to trigger the detonators and I ordered it,” he said, bringing his hands up from his sides. When he did so, he held a snub-nosed .38-caliber revolver in his right hand.

  “You can’t do this now,” Nessim said, eyeing the gun. It wasn’t pointed directly at him.

  “Oh, but I can and I will. You see, I set out to help you people somehow, someway, to strike out at them Jew bastards, but I never dreamed you’d have some
thing as beautiful as this going, and I never dreamed it would all come roostin’ home in the damn New Prospect. No sir. I haven’t been able to think of anything else since I learned of this plan. It’s beautiful and it’s my time, my time,” he said, tapping his chest with his thumb. “And I want to own it all.”

  “But you’ll have your revenge if you’ll just …”

  “I want the moment, the pleasure of the damn moment. You don’t need it. You just need the job done. What’s the difference to you? Give me the transmitter,” he said, lifting the pistol higher so it now pointed directly at Nessim.

  “What if something should go wrong with the system? Don’t you see I need to be on top of it all the way? That’s why I’m still here.”

  “Bullshit. You’re here to plant that secondary explosion under Chaim Eban’s table tomorrow. You could’ve left the hotel tonight and blown these people to hell whenever you felt like it.”

  “You’re wrong,” Nessim said. He looked at Clea. She was staring at him now, a look of pain on her face.

  “I’m not wrong. What was it we said back in Monroe—it’ll be like Samson bringing down the stadium on the Philistines.” He looked at Clea and smiled. “Three thousand of ’em, crushed in a mass of timber, cement, and steel. Boy, you people are somethin’ else.”

  “Is this true, Nessim?”

  “I won’t give you the transmitter,” Nessim said. He considered the situation. If he went for his own pistol and shot, the sounds would bring people and the whole project would be ruined. He couldn’t do it.

  “Oh, I think you will,” Tandem said. He changed the direction of the pistol so it faced Clea instead of Nessim. “There’s going to be two shots here, and don’t think I won’t find that transmitter anyway.”

  “Listen to me.”

  “Bullshit. You listen to me. I get the transmitter. I’m going down to that basement and wait it out. I have places to hide down there, understand. At dinnertime, I’ll trigger the explosion from just outside the building, same as you would do. If you want, you can join me and watch me do it. That make you feel better?”