by Ken Hansen
Huxley said, “Anwari truly was a man of God. You obviously are the opposite. You want to start something that could ultimately kill us all. You are truly evil.”
Pardus merely smiled. “Anwari a man of God? Are you a Muslim now, Christian? Pathetic.”
Huxley glared back at the camera but said nothing.
Pardus laughed. “Of course, I also knew you were an emotional wreck. Oh, you managed to fool your boss at Homeland, but I knew you too well. It allowed me to distract you just enough to confuse you. At your best, you might have figured this thing out. I could not have that, so I added a little fuel to the fire of your emotions and you tumbled into the abyss.”
Huxley closed his eyes. Damn. Sonatina asked if I had too much emotional baggage to see through the fog. But I did see through it! “I saw Anwari. He told me the truth. I could read his expressions. The hunt was a ruse to get me to look away from Washington!”
“You and your blessed ability to read people! You must know that anything good can be twisted to other purposes with enough finesse. I needed only to figure out where to twist it. I knew if Anwari and Jinnah truly believed what they told you, you would believe them because your deepest faith has always been in your ability to read people. So I simply needed to make them believe a few things themselves. That was ever so much easier than trying to slide a big lie by you directly.”
Huxley raised his chin high and sighed.
Pardus snickered. “Do you think I was stupid enough to let Anwari know my true motivations? I fed him a little vitriol when I thought the time was ripe. The man was so damn loyal that I had a hard time getting him to turn back to you. But I knew he would. Why do you think I employed him in the first place? He was never a real terrorist, and I knew it. He loved Allah and he loved his brother dearly, so he thought God had called him to retribution. My spies heard his brother in the hospital the day he died. From that point, it was simply a matter of seizing the opportunity by turning a few emotional screws that would divert him into my hand awhile.
“But I could never ask him to really harm someone innocent. He would have bolted, which is precisely why I used him. Real terrorists usually don’t give a damn about their targets. Hell, some of them actually enjoy killing. It stokes their hatred. Anwari was full of remorse before I even engaged him, so I knew he would turn against me when the pressure came to bear. All I needed to do was make him believe the real target was outside of Washington and he would eventually feed that information to you. Your old friend Jinnah served a similar role, but there I just needed to release enough information to him at the right time and ensure he knew you had entered Pakistan.”
Gnawing on his cheeks, Huxley nodded. “That’s why the scavenger hunt brought me to Pakistan. You wanted me to know the nukes had been stolen.”
“Of course, although I was a bit worried you might figure out those clues too soon and arrive a little too early, which would have been a real disaster. The bomb in Florence both made you think you were on the right path and forced you to take a little time off while a few other moving parts came together. I saw you used that time well.”
“You talking about Sonatina?” Huxley asked. “She in on this, too?”
Pardus laughed. “I find it terribly ironic that in the end an American Catholic altar boy believed an Arab Muslim who was not even his friend and instead suspected his Italian Catholic girlfriend. Why do you think that is, Christian? Will your little rebellion against the Church never end? Perhaps I should recruit you, huh? Mmm, no, we both know that wouldn’t work. No, Scholar Boy, Sonatina never knew a thing. However, once you shared your concerns about her with me, how could I resist playing her off as yet another of my decoys?”
“Decoy?” asked Huxley. “You hit her on the head and texted me that you had done it.”
“Well, I merely directed that action from afar. Najwa took care of it. He performed a brilliant piece of acting, I might add. We knew you had set your mind on Cardinal Fine. We knew you would do that when we set him up at Tel Megiddo by carefully releasing information to Dante Tocelli. Tocelli was such an amateur spy. We were able to monitor his communications and ensure he told just enough that Fine would ultimately be implicated. And if you were too dense to figure that part out, we would have found another way to help you just like we did in Tel Megiddo and every other time you got stuck. But I had faith you would implicate Fine. His history just made for too juicy a Vatican conspiracy theory for you to reject out of hand.”
During Pardus’s lecture, Huxley had looked at the ceiling and noticed something he had not seen before: an aluminum nozzle. He quickly looked back down to the camera. Maybe, just maybe, if he had time. Keep him talking. “But Fine was in hiding for weeks in Rome.”
“Of course,” replied Pardus. “I never said he was not working for us. He just never understood the stakes. Remember, he became involved with some of my lower echelon terrorist friends awhile back. They convinced him that if he stayed incognito in that little apartment for a few weeks, they would find a way to rid the Church of the pope, and he could emerge afterwards as a savior for the Vatican. We had no difficulty stroking his ego. Surely you have noticed he carries an enormous one with him wherever he goes.”
Huxley nodded weakly.
Pardus continued, “Then we just set up a meeting with Najwa near the same place Ms. D’Amare always runs in the evening. So we created a little opportunity for D’Amare to spot Fine, knowing it would be just too damn unlikely a coincidence for you. The little sleeper hold followed by a slight bump on the head gave her one of the worst lame excuses you could imagine. Remember, she did not know if she had been hit from behind. You started thinking that when you saw Najwa’s text telling you she would have a little headache. She simply had no idea what role she was playing.
“I had worried about her awhile. She could pull you out of your emotional handicap, and she had helped you find a few answers way too quickly. Alas, I hated to interrupt your little love affair since I don’t recall you ever having managed to hang onto a lover for long. However, the deception did help confuse things further for you and kept her out of the action when it could have hurt us most.”
“The last few weeks.”
“Yes. Do you comprehend yet what happened in Dubai?”
By now, Huxley was seeing it all too clearly. “Dracoratio performed a nice triple murder and made it look like Mayer was Pardus. It had to be him.”
“Very good, but what luck that Mayer walked into our midst! Dracoratio happened to see Mayer following him in a reflection. He faked a call from me and then improvised. Najwa and Anwari were already scheduled to kill each other, but Mayer’s propitious entrance into the prayer room changed the plan. The new plan took another counterweight out of the equation and placed greater credence on your story. It is amazing what people will do when there is a gun to their heads. Dracoratio demonstrated his own brilliance that day.”
“So you waited for me to convince the President to move the UNGARD to New York and then what?” Huxley asked.
“That was the whole point of the plan. I always wanted to destroy Washington. It is terribly nice of all the politicians to return to the area now that your Continuation of Government plan has been lifted. Perfect timing, do you not agree? With most of the politicians dead and the government in disarray, the bomb will create exactly the kind of chaos I desire—even better than destroying the financial center of this nation. I knew through other sources you had the UNGARD searching ships heading to the Chesapeake.”
“How’d you hear of the UNGARD?” Huxley asked. “It’s compartmented, so maybe 20 or 30 people know of it.”
Pardus raised his eyebrows and lowered his chin. “You aren’t my only friend.”
“Who?” Huxley demanded.
Kadir just smiled and nodded. “It was the only thing that stood in my way once that Jew chemist figured out how to block your other detectors. How do you eliminate the one device standing in your way when it is impossible for you to get to
it? You find a way to have so-called Homeland Security move it on its own. That was your role, Huxley. Without you, I never could have accomplished it. So thank you for your substantial assistance.”
“But we searched every boat entering the Chesapeake!”
“That is where the poem comes into play. You see, not only your heart but also the hearts of your boss and the President reached out to that myth of warheads heading to New York Harbor. When they thought they had found them, they chose to depend on that myth and stopped the intrusive searches of watercraft heading to the Chesapeake. Predictably, the searching had become incredibly unpopular, and politicians hate that so. My captain was waiting for the magic window to open, and sailed right through it as soon as it did. Besides, you came aboard the Ship of Fate —did you see any nuclear weapons?”
Mayhem wrecked the walls of Huxley’s gut, like a creature trying desperately to leave his body, clawing at his stomach lining, pulling his heart down to his bowels, and devouring any good left in him. When Blount had called him a goddamned hero, he had been right about one thing—he would be damned for all time. He had been a blind man believing he was leading the world to the light, when he was actually condemning it to hell.
Huxley shook his head. “You have led me like the lamb, unknowingly, to slaughter.”
Pardus chortled. “I prefer, ‘And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!’”
“Macbeth?” Huxley said. “How fitting. Your delusions will undo you in the end.”
“It is you who have been deluded.”
“The warheads are on this boat?” Huxley asked lowly. If so, he would be alone with all of this equipment —the equipment that must be controlling the warhead.
“No, not warheads, just warhead. Why would we need two? I saved the other for your girlfriend in Rome—well, actually for her and her friends in the Vatican. It is a shame that the rest of Rome must suffer such an ignoble end. I rather like the Italians and all those ancient buildings. But, alas, it is just too damn poetic. And, of course, it fits my plans.”
Was it possible that Huxley’s heart had sunk deeper? With so many people dying, with his own death imminent, it still hurt worse to learn of Sonatina’s coming end. A tear came down his cheek. “Your plans?” he said in a voice he would have sworn he had never heard before. “How can there be more?”
Pardus grinned. “There is always more. You did not think I was doing this out of some psychotic attempt to avenge a small slight by you, did you? Oh, I must admit that when you told me you were marrying Hanna, I was quite miffed. However, the revelation just made it more enjoyable for me to abuse your trust. I saw the way Hanna looked at you back in college. You ruined her for me and then confirmed your pathetic affair when you jumped her in the Maldives.”
“I never had an affair with her in college.”
Kadir shook his head slowly. “It is of no matter.”
Huxley began to shake his head and then he saw it—an extra mooring rope coiled on the floor. Was there a metal clasp attached? He dared not risk allowing Pardus to see him move toward it. Where the hell is the pull? He looked nonchalantly around the cabin and kept the conversation going. “So was that when you began to hate me?”
“You misunderstand me. I have never hated you. Oh, you were always the typical American sympathizer who congratulates himself on his tolerance and respect for other cultures: ‘See what a great person I am for showing my love for all of you poor, inferior Arabs and all of these other poor souls around the world who are unfortunate enough not to have been born an American?’ Bah! You Americans are just as corrupt and greedy as the rest of the world, but you fail to see it because your world power fuels your ignorance. You think you do everything for the good of mankind, but you are just protecting your own damn wealth and dominance. Well, I have found a way to use your dominance to my own advantage, and so change the world.”
“What are you going to do?” Huxley asked.
“That is for another time, Hux. Unfortunately, your time and that of your fellow Washingtonians has run out.”
“But why? I still don’t understand. How can a little arrogance by the U.S. be your motive for killing so many? You do not seem mad, so there must be a reason. Why?”
Pardus paused for a few seconds. “What is my name?”
“Pardus. The Leopard.”
“That is my nickname, and it should give you all you need. What is my birth name?”
“Kadir al-Razin al-Asr.”
“Yes, and there is your answer. You forget your Shakespeare, Huxley.”
“What?”
“Well, not quite. Remember, Juliet said ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet,’ but she knew the world did not agree. Sometimes our names define us. Sometimes they guide us. Sometimes they are our destiny. Look, I am perfectly positioned. The Ambassador of Peace will emerge from your country’s predictable overreaction to the nuclear attack. ‘An eye for an eye’ will be the cry from your citizens, and the new American government emerging from the ashes of Washington will give it to them or face violent revolution.”
“But they will know a terrorist was responsible,” Huxley said. “No other nation is at fault.”
“They will not. Nuclear explosions have a way of destroying the evidence at hand. But there is other evidence that will not go unnoticed. Just as I left you a few breadcrumbs, I have ensured that the blame will fall squarely on another Islamic nation. Who will doubt this in America? Nobody. And once your country has nuked an Islamic nation’s capital, the world will seek a new savior to prevent Armageddon. The Ambassador of Peace will serve that role nicely.”
Hopelessness filled Huxley’s heart; the creature inside of him seemed to die. “I’m sorry. I was wrong,” replied Huxley.
“In so many ways.”
“Yes, but mostly in this: I judged you a sane man but now finally comprehend the depths of your insanity.”
Pardus laughed. “Think what you like, my old friend. I have not changed. You simply never knew me. I have full knowledge and appreciation of my actions and always have—even in college when I suggested you use your brilliant mind as an analyst for the CIA. You could have made megabucks on Wall Street, but you were a sucker and took the bait. And in the past ten years, I have fed you tips to catch a wayward terrorist here or there. Was I insane when I turned you into my clueless agent and helped you rise through the ranks of your intelligence services? No, you were nearly the insane one, Huxley. You almost ruined all of my work with you when you took a career dive at your mother’s misfortune. Unlike you, I have always been perfectly rational. I have taken these steps because they are my destiny. So it is written. So it shall be. People always underestimate the power of one man to change the course of history. I shall prove them wrong.”
Huxley spit out the sour saliva poisoning his mouth. “I have always wondered what evil looked like, but now that I see it up close I still cannot comprehend it. Why does such horrid evil exist? Why do you live?”
“Good and evil?” Pardus asked. “Do you still believe in such archaic concepts? Well then, perhaps you should consider this: Without evil, how would we know what is good? Without good, how would we know what is evil? I am the yang to your yin, my old friend. Hey, I’m such a sporting guy that I’ll even give you a chance to save your girlfriend.”
Huxley’s voice cracked, “Sonatina? How?”
“You do love her, don’t you? An amusing thing, love. It makes otherwise rational people do the most reckless things. You see the button hanging above you? With just enough energy you should be able to reach it.”
Huxley saw the metallic device hanging in front of him. He had thought it was just a broken electrical conduit, but now he noticed the button at its end. A long wire led from the device down to his cell phone on a counter five feet away. Another wire led from the cell phone to the central console. Hoisting himself up on his chains, he could barely reach the hanging device with his right hand as his
left held him high. He yanked on the device, but it remained bolted into the ceiling. The cell phone did not move on the counter. He fell back and nodded to Pardus.
Pardus smiled. “Good, I see you are not completely useless. Push that button, say a few words, and it will give Sonatina a little head start on leaving Rome.”
Huxley’s eyes narrowed. “How?”
“By sending her a text message, of course.”
“What’s the trick?”
Pardus grinned broadly. “Trick? Must there always be a trick? No, there is no trick, but perhaps I have not explained the whole situation. You will be sending her a text message that I have drafted myself. Here, let me put it up on the screen for you.”
Pardus’s face was replaced on one of the screens by an iPhone screen with an unsent message cued in:
Sonatina, leave Rome immediately! You have 30 minutes. I will set off nukes in Rome and Washington at that time. You must leave to escape the devastation. I have lied to you. I am the Ghost Leopard. I am Pardus. This is my final act of retribution against the corruption of these two cities; my final redemption for the wrongs I have committed on their behalf. With the help of my sponsors, I have now brought the world a new beginning. But I cannot let you perish, for you still are so dear to me. Leave Rome immediately!
Huxley snorted. “How ridiculous! Even you cannot think Sonatina would believe this. She would know someone stole my cell phone and sent this fake message.”
“I will not allow the message to transmit until you add a voice clip to convince her. You must push the button and say, ‘I am sorry, Sonatina, but it is best for the whole world. These cities must die. Forgive me.’ That should do the trick, don’t you think?”
“You pathetic beast. Why do want to blame me? What about your little plot to blame a Muslim country? You willing to forgo that to stick it to your old friend?”
“Oh, do not think yourself so important, Hux. This is merely for fun. Those breadcrumbs I mentioned can run to you, to Ken Mayer or to another. It matters little to my plans, but I do so enjoy seeing what you will do. It is a nice experiment for humanity, don’t you think? Eternal condemnation to save your girlfriend. Oh, and I forgot to mention that the message will also be sent to James Cargill, the columnist at the New York Times. He’s on vacation in Hawaii. What a nice little scoop that will give him when he finally checks his messages.”
