The Practical Spy

by Doug Walker

CHAPTER FOUR

  The following morning he was escorted to Saul Rubin’s cell. When the heavy door was opened, Orson saw this creature huddled on a metal cot. No blankets, no pillow, a single low-powered bulb protected by a metal grill illuminated the bare cell. There was a metal toilet, but no paper.

  After permitting his eyes to adjust to the dim light, Orson remarked, “Not exactly a Holiday Inn.” Then asked, “Are you in good health?”

  There was no comment at first, then the figure stirred and in a faint voice replied, “Fair. They do feed me. Are you from the embassy?”

  Orson had to smile. “No. You will not be treated as an American citizen. Perhaps as an enemy combatant. Really no need to put a name to it. They intend to convict you after a hearing and then behead you.”

  “These people are savages,” Saul spat out. “They deserve what’s coming to them.”

  Orson was tired of standing, so he pushed Saul to one side and sat on the cot next to him. “And just what is coming to them?”

  “Death and destruction,” Saul whispered. “They’re probably bugging this cell.”

  “What does it matter? Beheading is beheading. Another life snuffed out. We all die, Saul. You’re the architect of your own demise. Whoever put you up to this would very likely enjoy your death. Dead men tell no tales.”

  “But the cause will go on,” Saul insisted, totally alert now.

  “What cause? Killing the King? Murdering various individuals? Mass slaughter? Endless religious wars? Some cause.”

  “You paint a bleak picture.”

  “You’re a utopian?”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  “Your little plot was doomed to fail. You were set up because you’re an American Jew. Arab fanatics. Jewish fanatics. Hard-line Israelis. None of these groups want peace. Had you ever thought that peace could be an option?”

  Saul shook his head as if clearing the cobwebs. “I will admit that I am confused. There seems to be no way out.”

  “Why were you picked?”

  “I might as well tell you. I’m a member of a certain temple in New York State. You could say my rabbi is what you call a hard liner. You know 360,000 Israelis live on the West Bank. What would become of them if they were offered up to the Arabs?”

  “I assume they would live in peace. I too have heard that figure. It’s likely close to that number one way or the other. There would be land swaps in peace negotiations. Some of them would be in Israel, some in Palestine. There is such a thing as coexistence. There are Arabs in Israel. I use that term broadly. Not all these people are Arabs.”

  “I was told I could move freely in Saudi because I am a Semite. I am swarthy, have a small beard, and look the part. It was true. I had little trouble until the event.”

  “The time when you were given a hand grenade and a pistol and told the King would be along shortly. Gun him down, blow up his car. Except you were not trained as a soldier, not even as a terrorist. You’re just a poor office worker from Binghamton, a sad fool caught up in a septic tank of hatred without mercy.”

  Saul hesitated, and then asked, “Can you call the embassy?”

  “Of course not. I’m working with the Saudis. They have you nailed. The only thing that might interfere with your beheading is if those who set you up get to you first and save the King the trouble.”

  “The King is a murderer!” Saul exclaimed.

  “No he’s not. When he inherited this kingdom, he inherited the culture that goes with it. He really doesn’t care one way or another about Israel except it’s a constant boil in the Middle East, leads to wars and terrorist attacks anyplace, anytime. His Arab Coalition has been formed as a tool for peace. Israel, backed by the American Jewish community, is a bulwark against peace. The Arabs see them as a spreading cancer with their settlements creeping this way and that.”

  “You’ve got to call the embassy. You’re my only hope,” Saul pleaded.

  “No chance of that. If that happened you might become a cause célèbre and then your handlers would knock you off and blame the Arabs. You are one pathetic pawn. The only hope you have is to deal with the Saudis.”

  “Deal with the enemy?”

  “Deal with whoever holds the high cards. You’ve been dealt a losing hand. Your rabbi knew that. You are a lamb brought to the sacrificial altar.”

  “What kind of deal might I make with the Saudis?” Perhaps Saul was heeding the voice of reason.

  “It would have to be full disclosure on your part. The entire story from start to finish. Think about it. In the meantime I’ll try to improve your situation here. I’m guessing you don’t want to be beheaded. Few folks look forward to beheading, or being locked in a small, dark cell alive with spiders and rats.”

  Saul shuddered at the thought, and Orson said goodbye and knocked on the cell door to be let out.

  Back at the palace Orson told the King the interview was satisfactory. “I didn’t press him on who put him up to the stunt. I simply tried to talk some sense into his head.”

  The King grinned wryly and said, “Attempting to end my life is more than just a stunt. It puts the entire kingdom at risk. I hope you won’t think I’m just conceited.”

  “No. I understand politics in this part of the world. That’s why I’ll tell you I don’t like Saul’s situation. Someone could easily slip in and kill him, even poison him.” Orson looked around the royal bedroom and added, “This is a palace. Traditionally there’s some sort of dungeon, some place to keep evildoers. Bad people.”

  “Of course,” the King replied. “We do have an underground place and there are small cells there, rarely used I’m pleased to say.”

  “I’d like you to move Saul down there. Have some sort of palace guard look after him, someone absolutely trustworthy.”

  King Saudi thought for a moment and then said, “I see no problem there. We could do that for various reasons. A good one would be that he’s on his way to his execution.”

  “Good. He could have decent food, a blanket and even TV if you think that would be alright.”

  “Such facilities are in place. I’ll attend to it.”

  “I’d like to go along during the move. Some young yahoo might knock him off and use the excuse that he’s saving you the trouble.”

  “No problem.”

  The move was made by late afternoon. Orson and Saul hardly spoke a word during the transfer. Orson did look over the new digs, and both he and Saul gave their approval.

  “If I’m to be a prisoner, this is the place,” Saul said, looking around. “It’s almost like a motel room.”

  “You are in a palace,” Orson replied. But your status is still at the quo. No outside contacts and full disclosure may save your bacon.”

  “Maybe we should talk,” Saul said.

  “Full disclosure from start to finish. One slip and goodbye head. Think on it.” He was gone.