Omega Sanction

Chapter Eighteen

Jawhar had walked back and forth in front of the gray-streaked window of his room for hours, his expensive boots wearing a path in the thin, worn rug. The titanium vial repeatedly made its trip through his fingers, hitting against the bulky rings he wore.

The colonel wanted more money. That wasn't unexpected.

He felt a pull, an emotional hook embedded in his mind, demanding that he leave the room and seek out a woman. Akil should have been the one to do this, Jawhar knew. Akil was always business when business was at hand. Akil only "played" when there was no business to attend to. When he was bored.

For Jawhar it was different. He could never escape the pull. He felt trapped inside the room, the dingy walls closing in on him. He turned on his heel and quickly walked to the door, threw it open and strode down the corridor.

The old elevator made so much noise taking him down that Jawhar regretted getting on it and not taking the stairs. However, it made it to the bottom safely. He pulled the steel gate aside and walked into the lobby. There was the sound of drinking, muted music, coming from a hallway to the left. Jawhar followed the sound, feeling a flush run up his neck.

The bar was dark, not for ambience but rather frugality. A few dim lights left most of the room in dark shadows. A radio sputtered out some unidentifiable music amid the clink of glasses and conversation. The smell of cheap Russian cigarettes filled the air.

Jawhar walked to the bar and took a stool. He had been in this type of place before and he knew the choices for drink would be limited.

"Yes?" The bartender, an old, portly man, asked in Russian.

"Budweiser," Jawhar did not particularly care for the American beer, but he knew it would be far better to drink than anything local. Hard liquor might have the right label but would most likely be filled with some local swill.

"Such a beer travels a long way to get here—" the old man began, but Jawhar cut him off by dropping several bills on the bar. Three American twenties. The old man had them scooped up before they even settled. The beer appeared quickly.

Almost as quickly, a dark-haired woman claimed the seat next to him, barely beating out another woman, a younger blond. Jawhar ignored her for the time being. Something brushed against Jawhar's left leg and he turned.

"Hello." The woman was rubbing her hand up his thigh.

"Leave me," Jawhar said the words flatly.

"Oh, come on, baby, don't—" she never finished the sentence as Jawhar pressed his thumb into the forearm that was rubbing him, squeezing down on the pressure point just as Akil had taught him. Her eyes widened and she quickly vacated the seat with a curse.

The seat remained empty for a minute. Finally, the pull was too strong. Jawhar turned and made eye contact with the young blond. She hesitatingly came forward and claimed the seat.

"How are you? I'm Katrina."

Jawhar stared at her, his eyes narrowing. If she'd been an animal in the wild she would have read the look he was giving her for what it was — nature's way of saying "predator." Unfortunately for her, she was an animal of civilization.

"Are you looking for some fun? A good time?"

"Perhaps."

He took a long drag from his beer, polishing it off. The bartender was good; he was there in a second. Jawhar nodded at the incline to the man's head. He needed another. The bartender raised his eyebrows and gestured at Katrina's glass. Jawhar shrugged and threw down several more American bills.

"Are you staying here?"

Jawhar looked her over more carefully. "Yes. Are you?"

"I could be."

Jawhar could see the shadows in her eyes. She was experienced, but not as experienced as someone her age would be if she had been doing it since she was able. The free-market economy had changed many things in the past few years.

"You have very nice eyes," she said.

"Are you a student?" Jawhar guessed.

She nodded. "I was. I hope to go back to school soon."

"What did you study?"

She slid the drink closer. "Psychology. Real interesting stuff, don't you think?"

Jawhar shrugged. "I don't know."

She sucked in the cherry from the drink, toyed with it on the end of her tongue and winked. "I can be very understanding because of my studies." She swallowed the cherry.

Jawhar looked at her blankly for a second and then relaxed.

Katrina didn't seem too perturbed by his lack of verbal repartee. "You are visiting our city?"

Jawhar nodded. "Just here for business."

"What kind of business?"

Jawhar smiled. "Contract work for the government."

She licked around the rim of her glass for a second and then put it down. "Sounds exciting. What kind of contracts? You're not with the KGB or anything like that, are you?"

"No."

"Going to be in town long?"

"No. Where are you from?"

She gestured vaguely. "North. A long way north. Where it gets very cold at night when you sleep alone."

Jawhar noted that she'd gestured in the wrong direction. North was behind them. That was the problem with too many people. They didn't know where they came from.

She'd finished her drink. He could tell she didn't know what exactly to do next, as he was still toying with his beer.

"Tell me about yourself." He looked at her intently and smiled. "You seem to be a very fascinating woman."

She gave him a look of such genuine happiness that he was surprised for a second. "I would love to talk to you. Let's go somewhere else. By the way, you never told me your name."

Jawhar stood up and put his hand to her waist to guide her out, his rings glittering in the bar light. "Jewel, my name is Jewel."

She smiled. "A most interesting name."

They didn't speak as they left the bar and went toward the elevator. She started to speak when the elevator gate closed, and continued all the way to his room. "I want to be a psychiatrist. I wanted to be a surgeon, but my grades weren't good enough and I was not a man. Unfortunately, I've always been just smart enough to get in the door. Not quite smart enough to get what I wanted. It didn't help being a woman."

Jawhar unlocked the door to his room and ushered her in.

"Psychology is most fascinating, though," Katrina continued. "I enjoyed my studies."

"And you are here to pay your way through school?" Jawhar asked.

"Times are difficult," Katrina said with the resignation Jawhar had heard from many in the former Eastern Bloc.

"I do not believe in psychology," Jawhar said as he pulled out his titanium case and began unscrewing the lid. He had had it carefully cleaned after Bosnia so it could go back to its original use. "Seems like they spend an awful lot of time looking backward instead of dealing with life now."

Katrina paused in the doorway to the bathroom. "But the source of our discontent and our madness is in our past. Until you can get to the source and understand it, you'll always be lost." The door swung shut.

Jawhar took a deep sniff of cocaine from the case. The hook in his brain was pounding now, a throbbing thing with a life of its own. A psychology student? He found that most amusing and ironic.

Katrina came back out. She flipped open the small refrigerator in the room. "Beer?" It was local stuff. Almost as bad as drinking piss water, in Jawhar's opinion.

Jawhar accepted the can and popped the top. "I have something you might like." He held up the titanium case.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Cocaine. Have you ever tried it?"

"Once."

"Did you like it?"

She nodded.

He poured a line on the table next to his chair. She came over and knelt, nose to the cheap wood. She snorted, then stood and went back to the bed.

He settled into the chair near the window and Katrina sat cross-legged on the bed, fluffing the pillows up to get comfortable. She looked at him quizzically, as if wondering why he wasn't joining her on the bed, but she didn't push it.

She blinked. The first wave hit her brain. "Judging from what you said before I went into the bathroom, you seem to be one of those people who believe that looking into the past is a waste of time."

Jawhar waved his hands. "I prefer to expend my energy on the present."

"But sometimes the energy you expend on the present is wasted energy if you aren't expending it in the right areas because you don't understand your past."

Jawhar sipped his beer and considered her. The understanding prostitute working on a degree in psychology. She thought she knew so much. "It is all bullshit."

Katrina leaned forward, her pupils dilated now. "What happened to you that was so terrible that you don't want to remember it?"

Jawhar closed his eyes. All of a sudden he was tired. The cushions of the chair enveloped him, dragging him down. "Nothing happened to me."

Katrina leaned back on the pillows. "I'm willing to listen. I'll be gone tomorrow, so you won't have to worry. I don't even know your last name. Tell me your dark secret."

"My mother was a bitch," Jawhar said.

"Why is the mother always blamed?" Katrina wondered. "I think it is more the father's fault in most cases."

"Oh, I blame him too," Jawhar said. "His time is coming."

"His time?"

Jawhar opened his eyes and looked at her closely. "You want to know something?"

"Yes?"

"I've killed."

Katrina blinked. "What?"

Jawhar smiled coldly. "I said I've killed."

She looked at the door briefly and then back at him. "Anyone I know?"

Jawhar took a sip of his beer. "The first time was in Kuwait. You remember, don't you? The great oil war?"

She seemed to relax slightly. "You were there?"

Jawhar nodded.

"Who did you kill?"

"A woman."

Katrina leaned forward on the bed. "A woman? Why?"

"She was in the wrong place at the wrong time," Jawhar lied. "She had to die."

"Did you feel bad about it?"

Jawhar stood. "No." He was now next to the bed, looking down on her. Her eyes were wide as she looked up. He knew what she was feeling as the cocaine rushed through her system.

"How did you kill her?"

"With a knife. I cut her throat." Jawhar sat on the bed behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

"But you did it because it was war. Right?"

"Oh, yes," Jawhar whispered. He reached down and cupped her breasts. She rolled back against him.

"What did it feel like?" she whispered.

"I felt like a god. I felt like I had the ultimate power. I felt like I was in control for once." He pulled and her blouse parted, buttons spilling on the bed and floor. He picked her up and threw her back on the bed, her head on the pillows. She looked up at him with a glazed look — no resistance. She wanted it. He could feel it.

"I want to play a game," he said. He pulled out a wad of bills and threw them on the bed next to her. She looked at the bills, then back up at him. It was more money than she could make in a year working the bar downstairs.

"What kind of game?'

"A fun game. It will very much be worth your time."

He saw her struggling to think. He pulled more bills out. She nodded, then closed her eyes.

Jawhar used the remains of her blouse on her left wrist, tying it to the bedpost. Her bra unfastened in the front and he used it to fix the right wrist. She was writhing now, struggling against the bonds. Jawhar looked about. A shirt was lying on the dresser. He went and got it. Returning to the bed, he knelt on top of her, his groin pressing up against her large breasts. She looked at him as he rolled the cloth. The last vision she had of him was his smile as he placed the cloth over her eyes. He lifted her head and tied it. Then he got off her and stepped back from the bed. She was still playfully struggling against the bonds.

Jawhar reached down and removed the knife he always carried strapped behind his back. The blade was long and curved and very sharp. He went back to the bed. Using one hand, he unbuttoned her skirt down the side and laid it open. Her cheap black panties beckoned.

Jawhar placed the point of the knife under the waistband. Feeling the knife, Katrina froze. "What are you doing?"

Jawhar didn't say a word. The sharpened blade slid through the material. Jawhar pushed his free hand down on her mound. She was wet. He pressed hard and she writhed under his ministrations. Jawhar played with her for a few minutes until she was arching off the bed — then he stopped.

He went back to the dresser. Another piece of cloth. He went back to the bed. Wadding her panties up, he held them in one hand. He looked down on her for a long minute. He reached down and played with her for a few seconds. She opened her mouth to gasp with the pleasure and he rammed the panties in. She jerked up and he quickly wound the cloth around and sealed them in place. He ignored her muffled protests.

Jawhar removed his clothes slowly. She was kicking now. The pleasure was gone. This was serious. He knew she knew that. But it was too late. He grabbed her ankles and spread her legs. She was strong, but he was stronger. He pinned the legs down and pressed his body on hers. His cock slid in effortlessly — she was still wet from the beginning.

Jawhar pushed his head up next to hers and whispered as he fucked. "The one in Kuwait was the first. She was a prisoner. A local woman who had cooperated with the Iraqis. Or so her neighbors said. Who knows if that was the truth? She was given to me to interrogate. That's when I learned about being in control."

Jawhar took a moment to catch his breath. Katrina was arching up to keep him going, the cocaine and his low voice bringing her back to thinking this was indeed a game.

"It was so easy. If I had known how easy it was, so many things would have been different for my brother and I. Remember I said she was the first? Well, there were others." Jawhar could feel the pressure in his balls build. "All over the world." Katrina's moans reached a crescendo. Barely enough to make it to the door of the room, never mind summon help.

"They all really wanted to die. They all deserved to die. Just like you." Katrina was crying now, her muffled sobs dying in her throat and her tears staining the blindfold.

Jawhar almost paused then because a vision of another woman crossed his mind. Then he felt himself coming. He shuddered and thrust deeper. He felt himself pour out into her.

After a minute Jawhar lay still. He pulled out and stepped back. Katrina wasn't moving. Maybe she was hoping he'd leave now or just let her go. Jawhar blinked, shaking off the effect of the sex, cocaine and beer. They were all the same.

Jawhar scooped up the knife from where he had laid it on the nightstand. He dressed quickly and put the knife in its sheath. Katrina remained frozen throughout.

He considered the room. He knelt down next to Katrina's head. "Did your psychology help you? Did you understand me?"

Jawhar removed the blindfold and she blinked, trying to adjust to the light. He levered his right forearm across her neck, slowly applying pressure. Her eyes bulged and her legs drummed against the mattress. Jawhar put all his weight behind that arm. Her eyes were terrified, an animal caught by a predator. Jawhar released the pressure and he could hear the wheeze of air as she desperately tried to get oxygen around her gag.

Getting off the bed, Jawhar took the beer can and crushed it, throwing it in the trash. He got another out of the refrigerator and sat in the chair by the window.

His SATPhone rang. He wanted to ignore it, but he knew better. He pulled it out of the coat pocket and punched the on button.

"Yes?" He knew it could only be one person, his brother Akil.

"Have you met the colonel yet?"

"Yes. He is getting what we want."

"How soon?"

"Two or three days. He wants more money."

"How much?"

"Two million, American."

"I'll tell the old man."

"He'll pay," Jawhar said. Two million was nothing to their father.

"Be careful. We've received whispers from the West that the colonel is not to be trusted."

"I don't trust him." Jawhar's eyes were on the bed. He could see the rise and fall of Katrina's naked chest.

"Our Western contact says the colonel has already made plans to go to Colombia."

"Before or after he completes his end of the bargain?"

"Let us hope afterwards. Perhaps it is good he wants more money," Akil said.

"I believe he will come back for the additional money. He said he will return in two days."

"I will come to your location in two days to bring the money and to make sure the colonel delivers."

"Good," Jawhar said.

"1 will see you then." The phone went dead.

Jawhar pulled the knife out and played with the razor-sharp edge as he considered Katrina. At least he would not be bored while he waited.