Heart of the Assassin

CHAPTER 44

Hector Morales, Aztlan secretary of state, burst into the presidential suite as soon as the electronic locks disengaged. "El Presidente," he huffed, having raced down the corridor from his own office in the executive tower. "Have you seen…?" His voice trailed off as he saw the row of televisions all tuned to President Brandt's speech.

"How kind of you to join me, Hector." Presidente Argusto sat with his chair tilted back, riding boots up on the desk, puffing away on a long Cuban cigar.

"E-Excellency," sputtered Morales, "I had no idea that Brandt-"

"Of course you didn't." Argusto released a perfect smoke ring into the air. "That would require some competency on your part, which we both know is alien to your nature."

Morales watched the smoke ring float toward him. "This…speech of Brandt's is totally out of character, Excellency. It makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense, Hector. I just never credited Brandt with either the insight or the cojones to act upon it." Argusto puffed happily away on his cigar. "It is, of course, too late for such dramatic action on the part of the yanquis to succeed, but still…" A pillow of gray ash from the cigar tumbled onto the white carpet. "One must admire the courage."

"Excellency, I have already placed a call to my counterpart in the Republic."

"You do that, Hector." Argusto beamed. "Talk, talk, talk until you and your fellow diplomats are hoarse. Meanwhile I have already put our air units on high alert." The cigar jutted up from the side of his mouth. "Discreetly, of course."

Morales felt his legs quiver. "Are we going to war, Excellency?"

"It will not be much of a war, Hector, but there will be blood enough to satisfy the gods…for a time, at least." Argusto swung his legs around, put them on the windowsill, stared out at the great pyramid of the sun that dominated the skyline of Tenochtitlan. "I had thought to devour el norte in tiny bites, but Brandt has given me all the excuse I need. We shall take back the land stolen by the yanquis in one great gulp."

"The combined armies of the Republic and the Belt…" Morales moistened his lips, which had become quite dry. "Excellency, they are a formidable enemy."

"Airpower, Hector." Argusto waved his hand in dismissal, still staring at the great pyramid. "We shall sweep their armies away like dust beneath our feet."

"Did you know this was coming?" said Spider after the president had finished his speech.

Sarah shook her head.

"This was what you wanted, though, right?" said Leo. "Reunification."

Sarah watched the TV reporters interview people on the street. "That's what I wanted."

"Then why aren't you happy?" said Leo.

Sarah didn't answer. The three of them sat on the flat roof of Spider's house, cooling off in the night air. Gray clouds drifted over the city. From the backyard she could hear Michael playing with two of Spider's younger children, their voices high and giddy.

"Sarah?" said Leo.

"I don't know," said Sarah.

"I feel the same uneasiness," said Spider, pulling a blanket over his knees. "Aligning ourselves with the Belt against Aztlan is a huge gamble, particularly now, and President Brandt has never impressed me as being courageous."

"So maybe he rose to the occasion," said Leo. "People do that, you know. Even the ones everybody thinks are scaredy-cats, sometimes they surprise you."

"It's not about you, Leo," soothed Spider. "It's about the president and the reasons behind a very aberrant decision."

Sarah walked over to the edge of the roof, looked over the parapet. While Spider and Leo continued to talk, she watched Michael play hide-and-seek with the other kids in the big backyard. They were older than he was but he was better at the game. He found a quiet spot, peeking out from under an overturned wading pool. A creepy place to hide, damp and dark, probably home to spiders and other bugs but he didn't seem to mind. Jonah, who was "It," wandered the yard and either spotted the other kids hiding, or waited until they gave themselves away by giggling. Michael stayed quiet in the darkness under the wading pool, stayed quiet and unmoving even when Jonah stood just inches away, stayed there until Jonah finally gave up.

"It's nice to see you smiling," said Spider. "It's been a while."

"I know," said Sarah.

Leo's pale skin was blotchy. "So…do you think Aztlan's going to declare war on us?"

"We may not get a formal declaration," said Sarah, serious again. "It may just happen."

"Perhaps Brandt's declaration of support for the Belt, presenting a unified front, will give Aztlan pause," said Spider. "It might at least buy time."

"Did you see General Kidd?" said Sarah. "He looked even grimmer than usual. At least compared to Amir."

"Young warriors are always eager for battle." Spider wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. "Old warriors know better."

"Do you want to go in?" Sarah asked him.

"I prefer it out here," said Spider. "I like hearing the children."

"Rakkim's got the cross," Leo said abruptly. "That's got to help."

"Are you getting religion, Leo?" Sarah teased.

"Whatever works, that's my philosophy," said Leo. "I don't care if it's magic beans or a prayer cloth dipped in the Jordan River."

"The cross will help," said Spider. "When Rakkim gets back he can turn it over to the president. Then Brandt can present it to the Belt president in a formal ceremony. Prove to the people of the Belt that Brandt's statement wasn't just words."

"The cross will do more than affirm Brandt's good intentions," said Sarah. "You have no idea the symbolic power it has for Christians."

Spider shrugged.

"I haven't heard anything from Rakkim in days," said Leo. "Has he contacted you?"

Sarah shook her head.

"Are you worried?" asked Leo.

Sarah went back to the parapet, looked down on the kids playing. "Always."

"You should learn to relax, Ibrahim," said the Old One. "Enjoy life."

"I am busy insuring my salvation." Ibrahim edged closer to his father as the crowd surged outside the Mighty Neptune Hotel and Casino, thousands of people pressed up against the railing surrounding the expanse of blue water. "Can we not leave this place?"

"Las Vegas is the happiest place on earth, that's what everyone says." Like many in the crowd the Old One carried a plastic trident and wore a seashell crown on his head. "Aren't you happy?"

"We've been here a week and I've hated every minute of it," said Ibrahim.

"I like this city and its endless enthusiasm. It makes me feel…it makes me feel young again. Hopeful. Have fun, Ibrahim. Life is short."

The crowd roared as Moby Dick surfaced from the center of the lake, the white whale spouting water two hundred feet into the air, a rainbow mist in the twilight. Japanese-made, of course. They made the best creatures.

The Old One cheered along with the crowd, waved his trident overhead. "Smile, my son, what you see before you is the handiwork of Allah."

"Father."

The Old One swept the trident across the water. "Over thirty billion gallons of freshwater. The largest man-made lake in the world, right here in the middle of the desert. Drained an aquifer to fill it and keep it filled, but did that stop the builders? No, it did not. They simply found another aquifer and piped it in. Where does such ambition and expertise come from other than Allah?"

Moby Dick rushed toward them, dove, its tail fluke kicking up a vast wave that broke over the crowd, drenching them.

The crowd howled with delight, none of them louder than the Old One, his clothes soaked, water dripping off his nose and ears.

Ibrahim looked miserable, his shirt soggy.

"I should have left you back in Miami," said the Old One.

"Doubtless you would have had a better time with the whore," muttered Ibrahim.

"Don't speak that way of your sister."

"My half sister," said Ibrahim.

"Baby is blood of my blood, as are you."

"Father-"

The Old One hooted as the Pequod, a full-sized, three-masted sailing ship, emerged from the casino and out onto the lake, sails catching the wind. Captain Ahab strode the deck with his peg leg, commanding the sailors while a tattooed man with a harpoon took a position near the bow. A tourist beside them hoisted a small boy onto his shoulders so he could see better, the boy wearing a pirate hat and waving a plastic scimitar.

"Avast, matey!" the Old One shouted at the child, shaking his trident.

The boy stared at him, then turned back to the Pequod.

"I hope you know what you're doing with Brandt," said Ibrahim. "His speech today-"

"Brandt's irrelevant. He could barely stand up without Amir beside him."

"Amir is irrelevant without General Kidd," said Ibrahim.

The Old One glanced at his son, then turned away, peering at the surface of the water, trying to determine exactly where the whale would resurface. As often as he had seen the show he could never be sure. The whale's central processor used random selection to heighten the excitement. Leo could probably work out the math to predict its exact appearance, but…He jabbed a finger at the lake. "Thar she blows!"

Moby Dick shot straight up not too far from the spot he had indicated, twisting in the air before landing in the water with a huge splash. The wave raced across the lake, sent the Pequod bobbing, Captain Ahab fighting to retain his balance.

The crowd whistled and applauded as the whale headed for the ship.

"I fear that you underestimate Aztlan, Father," whispered Ibrahim, water still dripping from his beard. "Their air force rolled back the Central American military in less than a week, and two days of aerial bombardment was enough to convince Venezuela to cede Aztlan their offshore oil wells."

Moby Dick picked up speed, the enormous sperm whale rushing through the water. On the Pequod, the tattooed sailor reared back with his harpoon.

"Study your history," said the Old One, watching the great white whale charge the sailing ship. "In 1967, the Israelis destroyed the entire Egyptian air force in one single afternoon. The whole war was lost while the Egyptian commanders sipped tea."

The tattooed sailor launched his harpoon deep into the white whale, but Moby Dick barely slowed, crashing into the Pequod midship, rending the wood planking. The crowd fell silent as the ship split in half, started to sink, the child beside them clutching his father's hair while Moby Dick slowly circled.

The Old One looked at Ibrahim. "So tell me, boy…do you think we are any less capable of smiting our enemies than Jews?"

"I…I just feared we were taking an unnecessary risk, that's all," said Ibrahim hurriedly.

"I'm leaving for Seattle tonight to ensure the takeover proceeds smoothly in the weeks ahead." The Old One scanned the crowd. "I want you to go back to Miami."

"Father, please-"

"Seattle is rainy, my son," said the Old One. "You might catch your death of cold there. I would never forgive myself."