Nuclear Surprise

by Rob Carnell

  "Welcome to the Tropicana sir, do you have a reservation?" asked the short pretty blonde behind the counter.

  "Yes, my name is Kamal Pashwari" he answered and pushed a gold American Express card across.

  "Thank you Mr. Pashwari. Yes, I see your reservation. You will be with us for three nights, is that correct?"

  "Yes, that is right."

  "Enjoy your time here" she passed the key to a bell boy who showed Kamal to his room.

  The room was excellent and much more comfortable than his small apartment at The Brotherhood.

  Kamal showered and changed, then headed for the tables.

  On the way past the bar, he noticed quite a few good looking girls seated at stools around the bar. He mentally filed this fact.

  He found a blackjack table with only one empty seat and sat down. He decided that two hundred dollars would be a good start, and he pushed the cash across the table and received a stack of red five dollar chips in return. The other players were chatting between themselves and the whole scene was quite noisy.

  The two hundred dollars only lasted about thirty minutes until Kamal needed to top up his pile of chips. Gambling was much more difficult than he had expected. Practicing at home in his quiet room was much different to the excitement at the Tropicana. The smiling dealer dealt the cards so fast it was almost impossible for Kamal to count the cards, he kept losing count. Eventually he gave up and went back to the bar for a drink.

  There were only a couple of empty stools, so Kamal sat down into one next to a red head. Next he ordered a double malt scotch. The young lady facing the other way spun around on her chair at the sound of Kamal’s voice.

  "Hello there. Would you like to buy me a drink as well?" she asked in a bold sort of way with a warm smile.

  "Certainly" said Kamal "what would you like?"

  "Hi, my name is Wendy. A Margarita if you please Sir!" said the cute red head extending her hand. She reminded Kamal of Geraldine.

  "I am called Kamal. I am pleased to meet you."

  When the drinks had arrived, Wendy began the conversation.

  "Have you had any luck at the tables?" she asked.

  "I am afraid not, I have never played in a casino before, and the dealers play so fast that I get confused" explained Kamal.

  "Were you playing a five dollar table?" asked Wendy.

  "Yes, I think so" replied Kamal.

  "The higher value tables don’t have as many players. If you can afford it, try a bigger table, you might even get a table to yourself."

  "Thanks for the tip Wendy" said Kamal with a smile.

  Eventually Kamal was getting a bit restless, he wanted to get back to the tables and try his luck again.

  Wendy picked up on this "would you like me to come with you and help you find a quiet table?"

  "Yes, that would be of great assistance."

  Wendy grabbed Kamal by the hand and led him away. She took him straight past the row of tables where he played before. Then they went past some roulette wheels. Eventually toward the back of the casino, there was another row of blackjack tables. There were twenty five dollar and fifty dollar minimum and it was much quieter.

  "How does this look?" asked Wendy indicating a completely empty twenty five table.

  Kamal sat and received green twenty five dollar chips for his pile of cash. He began to play. Wendy stood behind Kamal giving him encouragement. She stood so close behind that Kamal could feel the warm pressure of her breasts against his shoulders. He became aroused, and began to bet more.

  He soon realized that in two handed play that the dealer had to wait for him to decide whether or not to draw a card. Kamal was able to slow the play enough that he soon was able to get set and count the cards the way he had practiced at home in his room at The Brotherhood.

  An hour and a half later Kamal had won back the money he had lost before, and was in front over two thousand dollars when Wendy leant close and whispered in his ear.

  "Isn’t that enough for the night, why don’t you show me your room?"

  "How do I swap my chips for money?" Kamal asked the dealer.

  "Push them over to me and I will change them for bigger chips. You can change them for cash at the cashier over there" said the dealer pointing to the cashier’s cage.

  Kamal and Wendy walked hand in hand to the cashier where Kamal exchanged the chips for cash.

  When they were in the elevator on the way upstairs Wendy put her arms up around Kamal’s neck and kissed him.

  "It is five hundred for all night" she whispered into his ear.

  Kamal had no idea at all that Wendy was a hooker, but he had plenty of cash and it sounded to him like a good deal. It was.

  Chapter 16

  Tropicana Casino

  Atlantic City, New Jersey

  23 Years Ago

  * * *

  WENDY MET Kamal in the lobby of the Tropicana at 7pm the next evening.

  She took him to a restaurant at another casino just a couple of minutes away in a taxi.

  They had a quick meal together then decided to hit the tables here as well. Once again, Kamal played a quiet table and won another thousand dollars. He put the winnings in his inside coat pocket and his stake money in his side.

  When they were ready to head back to the Tropicana Wendy suggested "It’s such a beautiful evening, why don’t we walk back?"

  About half way back as they were rounding a corner, a big man wearing a black jacket and a baseball cap stepped out and shoved the point of a knife toward Kamal’s stomach.

  "Give me all your money and nobody gets hurt!" he said firmly.

  Kamal needed no further encouragement and handed across some of his wad of bills from his side pocket and the man ran away.

  "Let us call the police!" Kamal said in an enraged voice.

  "Why bother, it happens all the time. Forget it, let’s go and win some more money. Nobody got hurt, it’s no big deal."

  Kamal did not agree, but he complied with Wendy’s wishes. At least this kept his name off a police report.

  They went back to the Tropicana and as Wendy had suggested, he won some of the money back.

  But Kamal was not in the mood for company tonight. He handed two hundred dollars to Wendy and said, "I am tired, I am going to bed. Maybe we can meet next time I come to Atlantic City."

  Wendy looked like she was going to cry, but she wrote her phone number on the back of a taxi receipt and gave it to Kamal.

  "Please call me, I want to see you again" said Wendy gazing deeply into Kamal’s eyes.

  Kamal went back to his room and changed into jeans and a dark jacket.

  He went back to the other casino and purchased a carving set at the gift shop. Then he went into the bathroom there and threw everything into the trash except for the knife. He put this in his inside jacket pocket and went walking.

  He walked slowly with his eyes searching the darkness.

  Eventually, he spotted the man who had stolen his money earlier. He was on the other side of the street sitting on a bench in a bus shelter.

  Kamal walked down a block then crossed over. He walked silently back to the bus shelter. When he was a pace behind his robber, he grabbed the knife out of his pocket. Without a word, he thrust the knife with all his might into the man’s right hand side. The lung was punctured and all the man could do was gasp with bulging eyes. Then Kamal took off his cap and stepped around so the man could see him in the moonlight.

  "I will be the last face you ever see."

  Kamal gazed into the man’s eyes until they just glazed over.

  The more he looked at the face, the more he was not sure that he had killed the man who had attacked him earlier. Finally, he decided, it did not really matter. It felt good anyway.

  He wiped the blade and handle with a tissue from his pocket and dropped the knife in a dumpster.

  Kamal headed back to the hotel where he showered and dressed.

  It was still only 10pm, so he decided to head back downst
airs to again try his luck at the tables at the Tropicana.

  Afterwards he called Wendy who was delighted to hear from him.

  Chapter 17

  Massachusetts Institute of Technology

  Cambridge, Massachusetts

  22 Years Ago

  * * *

  THE BEGINNING of a new semester at M.I.T. was always heralded with anticipation. There were new subjects to learn and new professors to teach them.

  Not all professors were the same, some were better than others. In fact regardless of the more liberal views of the faculty staff, there were a few who were bordering on being racist. There was even one that stepped over the line.

  George Winters had been born and raised in a small town in Alabama. His father had been the Governor of the state when he was at school, and he led a very sheltered life. When he was old enough, he was shipped north east to school and stayed there ever since. His father wanted him to return to his home state and take up politics, but in truth, George loved the academic life. He had been teaching at M.I.T. for more than five years.

  Professor Winters taught the course in Advanced Circuit Theory that Kamal was enrolled for this semester. This was one of the most difficult electives in the course, and the pass rate in this subject was quite low.

  Whilst nothing was visible outwardly, George Winters loathed Muslims, Chinese, African Americans, and in fact anyone who was outside his narrow cultural window. For this semester anyway, Kamal was his whipping boy.

  Kamal’s term paper that he submitted was good work. He spent a lot of time in the library and was confident that it was as good as he could get it.

  George on the other hand did not feel quite the same way.

  Kamal had made a small calculation error in determining voltages within a circuit loop. His reasoning and formula work were perfect, but he just made a small error with his calculator. Everything was perfect, except for the final answer. Other students had made similar errors and had passed with flying colors. Not so for Kamal who was graded with a fail.

  Kamal was devastated. He had never failed a subject before and he knew he had a much better grasp of the subject than most of his fellow students who asked for his help with this subject. Yet they passed and he failed.

  In desperation he went to see Professor Winters in his office to discuss his grade.

  "What do you want Pashwari?" asked Winters coldly, not even asking him to sit.

  "Sir, I wanted to discuss my term paper grade with you" suggested Kamal.

  "There is nothing to discuss, it is trash. You are a moron and you failed. Now would be an excellent time to drop out of your course and head back home to your rich daddy."

  It seemed that a wealthy father was the only thing that they shared in common.

  "But sir, I made just a small calculation error. Everything else was correct. I checked the papers of some of my fellow students and some with much worse errors than mine received a passing grade."

  "Bad luck camel jockey. Better luck next time. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

  Kamal was dejected and went home with his hands thrust deeply in his pockets, quietly sobbing.

  Chapter 18

  Boston Mosque

  Boston, Massachusetts

  22 Years Ago

  * * *

  IMAM HILLALI met Kamal after prayers had concluded.

  "I can see you are troubled. What is wrong my young friend?"

  "I fear that I may not be able to complete my course. I have a professor who hates Muslims and he failed me."

  "Did you deserve to fail?" asked Hillali.

  "No sir. I did good work. Others who made much worse mistakes on the term paper still passed. He called me a camel jockey and kicked me out."

  "I see" said Hillali "It must be explained to him that this is no way to talk to a student. What is the name of your teacher?" demanded the Imam.

  Reluctantly Kamal revealed "It is Professor Winters."

  "I can make you no promises, but I will send someone to have a conversation with Professor Winters."

  Two days later Kamal received a messy handwritten note from Professor Winters. It read:

  Mr. Pashwari,

  It seems that I may have made an error in the marking of your term paper.

  I have advised the faculty of the mistake I made, and you will now receive an A for this subject.

  Please accept my humble apology for my mistake and any inconvenience caused.

  In addition, I wish to sincerely apologize for the racist remarks I used when you came to visit me in my office.

  I am deeply sorry if I offended you in any way.

  Professor George Winters

  Professor Winters did not return to M.I.T. the next term. He went back to Alabama to recover from the shock of a severed thumb on his right hand.

  Chapter 19

  Boston Muslim Brotherhood

  Cambridge, Massachusetts

  22 Years Ago

  * * *

  IT WAS early in the morning, but Kamal was still awake. He had been studying hard for his final exams and it always took a while for him to finally fall asleep.

  In fact he now hated sleep as he knew he would be confronted with the headless corpse of Geraldine tormenting him throughout dreamland.

  The phone rang and Kamal grabbed it instantly "Hello."

  It was his mother Thoraya who announced without preamble "You must come home. Your father has had an accident."

  "What happened?" asked Kamal.

  "He was hit by a car while he was walking across the street to a business meeting."

  "Is he alright?" said Kamal starting to feel worried.

  "No, it is very serious. He has liver and kidney damage. He has asked to see you immediately."

  "I will come as quickly as I can. I will call you from the airport and let you know when I will arrive in Riyadh."

  Kamal got up and dressed. Then he packed a small bag and then grabbed a cab to Logan Airport.

  He found a connection to Riyadh via Frankfurt, and called his mother with his flight details.

  He was grateful that he was able to get a final fill of lobster at the airport before the flight.

  Whilst the business class seat was more than comfortable, as usual sleep just would not come to Kamal.

  He loved his father and he was terrified at the thought that Reza was not immortal. But in truth, he embarrassed himself by spending most of the flight considering how he would spend the fortune he may soon inherit.

  Before the aircraft began the descent into Riyadh, Kamal went into the bathroom and changed into his traditional Arabian white flowing robes and head ware. His beard would have to wait to grow back.

  Chapter 20

  King Faisal Hospital

  Riyadh, Saudi Arabia

  22 Years Ago

  * * *

  THE LIMO was waiting at the foot of the aircraft stairs for Kamal when his United Airlines flight taxied to a stop. There was no need for customs or immigration formalities. These had been pre-arranged for him.

  As usual the Riyadh morning traffic was heavy, so the trip seemed to go on forever. When they finally arrived at the hospital, the driver double parked in the Ambulance bay and opened the door for Kamal.

  Kamal was greeted by his cousin Farouk and taken to a private room in the Intensive Care Unit. Outside the room, there seemed to be hundreds of relatives all crying.

  Inside Reza’s room there was only Thoraya sitting in a chair beside the bed holding her husband’s hand.

  She rose and threw her arms around Kamal, burying her face in her son’s chest.

  "Your father is asleep now. Whenever he wakes, he asks for you."

  "Will he be ok?"

  "Let us go outside to talk."

  Thoraya led Kamal outside and past the throng of relatives waiting in the wings. They were already starting to calculate how much they would each inherit. Since Reza had three wives, there were quite a few in the mob. Thoraya was the
first wife, and Kamal was the first son, so both had an honored position.

  When they were out of earshot Thoraya began. "Kamal, your father is gravely ill. The doctor told me that he is connected to a number of machines to help him stay alive, but they will only prolong his life for so long. The doctor thinks that he is fighting just so he can see you. He is in a great deal of pain. There is no hope."

  Kamal’s eyes began to mist over, and his tears began to flow.

  "Surely there must be something the doctor can do. Let me speak to him."

  "Kamal, go and sit with your father. He wishes to speak with you alone. Hopefully he will wake so he can see you. Talk to him, the doctor says this can help. I will wait outside, I need to eat anyway."

  He slowly padded back to the room and took his mothers position beside his ailing father. Kamal grabbed Reza’s soft snow white hand with his own. It was hard to believe that this was the man that he had most admired all his life. His father seemed so feeble lying there in the bed attached to monitors and electrical machines when he should be at home ruling the Pashwari business empire.

  "Father, it is Kamal, I am here with you now."

  Reza’s eyes fluttered open almost immediately.

  "Kamal, I am glad you arrived in time, I fear my time is short."

  "Nonsense father, keep fighting, you will be fine."

  "I never believed that I would want to die, but I know this is my time. I can feel my body shutting down. I do not have much time left."

  Reza was speaking in barely a whisper, it was taking all of his strength just to stay awake.

  "Listen carefully my son. When you return to the Palace, you will find a letter addressed to you in the top drawer of my desk. It is for your eyes only. Go alone."

  Kamal had never been permitted entrance to Reza’s office, this was his private domain. Reza coughed and his whole body shivered.