Path of the Assassin

CHAPTER 48

The minute the guards locked Harvath in his room, his evasion-and-escape training took over. He needed to find something, anything, that could be used as a weapon or aid in their escape, and he needed to find it before Hashim Nidal came back for them.

Whoever had retrofitted the guest room as a glorified holding cell had done an extremely good job. Everything was either bolted to the floor or the wall. The holes that served as windows were barred from the outside, there were no accessible light fixtures, no springs in the mattress or the bed frame, and there wasn’t even any glass in the bathroom.

An hour later, Harvath’s search was interrupted by the sound of his door being unlocked. His time was up. He would have to face Hashim empty-handed.

When the door opened, he saw Meg standing in the hallway flanked by the same guards from earlier that day. “Where are we going?” he asked in Arabic. One of the men just motioned him outside with his assault rifle. Harvath shook his head, No.

The other guard grabbed a handful of Meg Cassidy’s hair and yanked hard, causing her to cry out. Harvath gave in and came out of his room.

He and Meg were paraded down several hallways to an elaborate dining room. Muted frescoes adorned the walls, and a large chandelier hung from the arched ceiling. Two candelabras on a sideboard provided additional light. Sitting at the head of the long, rough wooden table eating her dinner was Adara.

“Quite lovely, isn’t it?” she asked as the guards marched Scot and Meg to the head of the table and then took up positions behind them. “This whole complex was once a secret stronghold of the Knights of Saint John of Jerusalem. Colonel Gadhafi presented it to my father as a gift.”

“Pretty generous guy,” said Harvath.

“You’ll find that generosity is a cornerstone of our culture. In fact, I am prepared to make you a very generous offer. But first, you must be hungry. How would you like something to eat?”

Adara Nidal rang a small silver bell next to her wineglass, and a servant appeared. She gave him instructions in Arabic, and he quickly set two more places at the table.

“Please, sit,” she said.

“We’re not interested,” replied Harvath.

“Please do not be impolite, Agent Harvath. You would do well to take advantage of my generosity. The alternatives are not very pleasant.”

A rifle barrel jammed in his back encouraged Harvath to accept the woman’s hospitality.

“Excellent,” she said. “Yes, you sit there, Agent Harvath, and Ms. Cassidy will take the seat here next to me.”

As Meg took her seat next to Adara, she noticed a faint scent that she thought she recognized. Her thoughts, though, were disrupted when their hostess raised the bottle in front of her and asked, “Ms. Cassidy, may I pour you some wine? It’s quite nice. A Frascati. Wine of the popes, they say. This is a Santa Teresa Superiore, one of the best.”

“No thank you,” replied Meg.

“That’s too bad. What about you, Agent Harvath?”

“I’m not thirsty, thank you. Besides, I thought alcohol was forbidden by the Muslim faith.”

“It is,” answered Adara as she refilled her glass. “But there are certain pleasures in life which I am unwilling to forgo.”

“Did your father know you drink?” asked Harvath.

“I don’t wish to talk about my father. I would much rather talk about us. It has been quite an odyssey, hasn’t it? You have followed me around the world.”

“Indeed. Macau, Bern, Cairo, Chicago,” said Harvath, rattling off the cities.

“And let’s not forget Jerusalem,” added Adara.

Harvath was taken completely off guard. How did she know about Jerusalem? The icy grip of death had been on the back of his neck, and he hadn’t even felt it. He tried not to show his surprise. “Jerusalem? I haven’t been there in a long time.”

“Please, Agent Harvath. Let’s not play games. At one point I stood right behind you. Had you been paying attention, you could have smelled my perfume. What were you doing there? What was your assignment? Were you sent to kill me? If so, you did a very bad job.”

“If I had wanted to kill you, you would be dead, believe me,” said Harvath, trying to use the illusion that America knew more than it did to his advantage. “I wasn’t there to kill you. We wanted to know more about your operation. Why don’t we talk about what you and your brother are planning.”

“We have many plans, Agent Harvath. Many of which are the same, and many of which are not. We are two completely different people.”

“You don’t seem that different to me.”

“Oh, yes, we are. And we always have been. When we were very young, my father used to play a game with us called Alquerque. I was quite skilled at it. Hashim was not. It demands a mind adept at strategy, which my brother does not have. I beat both my father and my brother repeatedly. Eventually, Hashim refused to play. My father spent nights on end playing Alquerque with me, virtually ignoring Hashim. It drove him mad with jealousy, and he tried to find other ways to impress my father and gain his attention.”

“Did he find anything?”

“No. I always ran faster, jumped farther, and even shot better than he did. The point of the matter is that the only thing my brother surpassed me in was his love for Islam. My father saw it as a means of uniting people. I saw it as a boring, profitless pursuit, and had no time for it.”

“It would seem your ability to speak English is another area in which you surpass your brother.”

“My father sent me away to private boarding schools and eventually on to university at Oxford. By living in the West, I learned the ways of the West. Understanding the disposition of your enemy is one of the most necessary elements in conquering him.”

Something clicked in Harvath’s mind. Like picking a lock, a tumbler had fallen into place. It had something to do with Ari Schoen, but he didn’t know what it meant. He just felt he was onto something. “Your father seemed to think of everything.”

“I have him to thank for all of this, really,” said Adara as she swept her arm and took in the room. “He realized early on that Hashim’s love of Islam alone would not be enough to carry on everything that he had built, everything that he had worked so hard for. My brother is not a thinker. He is not a planner. He is ruled by his passions, and passions can be dangerous. Make no mistake, though, Agent Harvath. My brother may be a fanatic, but there’s one thing he’s fanatical for above all else — family. He’d die for me if he had to. Of that, I’m sure.”

“That’s interesting, especially since the organization was put into your care.”

“Why?” said Adara as she took another sip of wine.

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re a woman.”

“That was the added brilliance of my father’s plan. Not only was I the most capable of doing what needed to be done, it was a move that would never be suspected by our enemies.”

Harvath decided to change tack. “And Israel is one of those enemies?”

“Of course Israel is one of our enemies. It is our greatest enemy. Israel and all those who support it, especially America,” she said.

Harvath could actually see her eyes darkening and turning color right in front of him. He had hit a nerve. A big raw one. “So the change in management hasn’t altered the family’s position on Israel.”

“Nothing will ever change our position on Israel! We were born with a hate for all of its people. It is in our blood.”

“Nobody is born hating anything. You have to learn to hate. Who taught you? Your father?”

“You know so little. You know nothing of me and what my life has been. My father tried to teach us about the Jews. My brother took to it faster and with more conviction than I did. I had to learn the hard way.”

“The hard way?” asked Harvath. “I don’t understand.”

“It is not for you to understand!” snapped Adara. There was a flash again of her eyes as they throbbed dark as night.

Calming herself, she turned her attention to Meg Cassidy as the servant reappeared with a large serving dish. “Ms. Cassidy, I can understand your saying no to the wine, but please do not say no to the main course. Having spent most of my life in the West, I am not partial to the dishes of the desert. It is extremely difficult for me to find the ingredients I need here. But, the difficulty only adds to the flavor of the food. If you try it, I think you will find this to be the best truffled lobster risotto you have ever had.”

Harvath knew it was important for them to keep their strength up, so he answered the question in Meg’s eyes with a nod of his head. The servant spooned out large portions onto each of their odd hand-painted plates, and they began to eat.

Soon, Adara Nidal began putting direct questions to Harvath about his operation. He knew it was only a matter of time. She wanted to know the extent of the United States’s knowledge, how closely they were working with the Israelis, and who else was aiding them in their hunt to bring down the Abu Nidal Organization.

Harvath deftly parried and avoided every question. Adara was nearing the end of her patience. “Agent Harvath, you are testing the limits of my hospitality. Only if you cooperate can I provide you with good treatment.”

“As captives,” said Harvath as he waved off more food from the servant.

“Not as captives, as my guests. You would be shown every courtesy.”

“Really? For how long?”

“Only time would be able to tell.”

“I thought so.”

“Agent Harvath, I know Ms. Cassidy possesses limited knowledge of your operation and your country’s overall involvement, but if you do not cooperate with us, you’ve seen that my brother is not above using her to loosen your tongue.”

“If you or your brother lay a hand on her, I guarantee it will be the last thing either of you ever do.”

“Idle threats, the last refuge of a beaten man,” said Adara, shaking her head.

“That wasn’t a threat. It was a promise, and it was anything but idle.”

Adara pushed herself back from the table and stood. “You do not frighten me, Agent Harvath.”

“I should.”

“Nevertheless, you do not. I will give you the rest of the night to think about what I have offered you. Either you choose to cooperate, or I will hand you both over to my brother in the morning and he will do things his way. The choice is entirely up to you. The guards will show you to your rooms.”

With that, Adara Nidal turned and left the dining room. The guards stepped forward and escorted Scot and Meg back to their rooms. Just as they reached their doors, Harvath turned to Meg one last time to tell her everything was going to be all right. This time, though, it was different. She knew by looking in his eyes that he didn’t really believe it.