Path Of The Assassin

“On the evening of November twenty-third, 1985, one Omar Ali Rezaq and two other men, all card-carrying members of Abu Nidal’s Fatah Revolutionary Council, boarded an Egypt Air flight out of Athens. Shortly after the plane took off, these three charmers produced weapons and demanded that the captain fly the plane to Malta. There was an Egyptian plainclothes sky marshal stationed on board, and a gunfight broke out. One of Rezaq’s men was killed and the sky marshal was wounded.

“When the plane arrived in Malta, Rezaq demanded that it be refueled; and when the authorities refused, he announced that he would start shooting a passenger every fifteen minutes until the tanks were topped off. The authorities thought he was bluffing, but he wasn’t. He shot two Israelis and then three Americans, dumping all of their bodies out the front door onto the tarmac.

“The next day, Unit 777, stormed the plane. It was one of the worst fuckups in counterterrorism history. These guys went in with guns blazing, and fired indiscriminately in every direction. They set off some sort of an explosive device, which sent the plane up in flames. When all was said and done, fifty-seven passengers were dead.

“Fifty-five of those deaths were attributed to the Egyptian 777 unit. When you take all of this into consideration, throw in Egypt’s brand-new airport, add a ton of media attention, and the fact that this hijacking is very likely being carried out by the son of the guy who ordered the November ’85 job-do you really believe the Egyptians are going to sit back and let us run the show?”

“As far as I’m concerned, our mission is the identification and neutralization of Hashim Nidal. Period. What the Egyptians do is their business. As long as they don’t get in our way.”

“Well, that’s commendable, but what about the passengers?”

“Not our priority.”

“‘Not our priority?’ How the hell can you say that? That plane is packed with hostages, most of whom are Americans. We have a duty to try to rescue them.”

“We have a greater duty to make sure Hashim Nidal is eliminated. America does not want another World Trade Center.”

“I don’t want one either, but we have to at least try to rescue the passengers.”

“I’m not saying they’re not a consideration, but we’re at war and war means casualties…sometimes even civilian casualties. It’s just the way the game is played.”

“Jesus. So this is what happens when a wet work team gets sent into a hostage-rescue situation.”

“Harvath, I am not going to argue with you anymore. Our mission is our mission. If you want out, that’s fine with me. As a matter of fact, I’m sure it’s fine with all of us. But, if you’re going to stay aboard, you do it with your mouth shut and you follow my orders. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it. But I’ve also got one request.”

“Only one?” said Morrell, playing to his men, who began to chuckle with him. “If it’ll get you to shut up, then by all means, let’s hear it.”

“I can already see the way this thing is shaping up, so when we do the takedown on that plane, I want to be the first one in.”

“You got it.”

“And one more thing.”

“See,” said Morrell, “I knew you didn’t want just one thing. What is it?”

“When we go in, I want you right there next to me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Neither would I,” said Harvath. “Neither would I.”

18

By ten P.M. Cairo time, Meg Cassidy knew there was no possible way she was going to be able to sleep. It was a luxury she couldn’t afford, no matter how badly she needed it. Twice, she had fallen into short catnaps only to awaken and find the masked hijacker with the brown eyes staring at her. During the one and only bathroom break the hijackers had allowed, the man accosted her when she came out of the lavatory and had run his hands over the fabric of her black Armani pants suit, appraising her body beneath.

Luckily, it seemed to Meg, a second hijacker had appeared out of nowhere, and immediately saw what was happening. Harsh whispers were exchanged, and finally, the first man backed down. Though of the same height, this other hijacker was of a slighter build, with the most hypnotic eyes Meg had ever seen. She was immediately drawn to them. As Meg stared into the two orbs of brilliant silver, her mind went numb and the fear drained from her body. The hijacker gently touched her cheek with the back of a gloved hand and then indicated that she should return to her seat. Meg obeyed, filled with a strange sense of awe and gratitude. This feeling was soon replaced by visceral fear as the brown-eyed hijacker once again maneuvered himself into a position to catch Meg’s eye. Only this time, his look registered pure hate.

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