Path Of The Assassin

“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.”