Life, Mamoud had learned, was a dance much like the one his girls were performing. It was a lesson, like so many others, that he’d learned from his father. There was a rhythm, a beat, a melody, a moment of intensity, and then a release.
When the music stopped, he looked at the two girls as they panted for breath, their stomachs and chests heaving for air. They never stopped smiling in spite of the arduous workout. They knew better than to displease Mamoud. His reputation for being cruel and exacting had stretched across the sprawling city of Dubai. No one crossed him. And if there was such a foolish, ignorant soul, their mistake would be short lived, but their pain would not.
He stood up from his throne-like chair and began clapping slowly, the cigar hanging from his lips just past the V-shaped soul patch of hair above his finely trimmed beard. Dark eyes underneath waves of thick black hair pierced through the girls as he stepped deliberately toward them.
“Impressive, ladies,” he said, beckoning them closer to him with open arms.
The girls obeyed and slid their hands around his back in a sultry fashion, snaking them under his armpits and around his waist.
“I want you both to go wait for me in the master bedroom,” he said pointedly, taking out the cigar and pointing toward a lavishly decorated master bedroom through a set of ornately carved double doors. The bedroom was off to the right and featured a white marble balcony providing almost the exact same view as the sitting room. “Feel free to lose those clothes, but keep the scarves. We may need those.”
While Mamoud had been indoctrinated in the conservative, fundamentalist ways of Islam, there were a few things he didn’t take to heart. One was the way that many believed women should remain covered. Another was the principle of chastity. Despite his hatred for the West, these two things seeped their way into his life without much protest on his part. The carnal temptations, he found, were the best. No one dared call him a hypocrite.
The girls giggled, bowed, and hurried off to the bedroom.
When they’d bounded beyond the threshold and started removing the few pieces of clothing they had left, Mamoud motioned for one of his guards to close the doors, apparently wanting secrecy.
He called his right hand, Sharouf, over with a flick of four fingers.
Sharouf obeyed and was by his boss’s side in an instant.
Mamoud put his arm around the man’s shoulders and walked with him out to the balcony. When they reached the white stone, their eyes narrowed, trying to squint out the bright afternoon sun.
Four stories below, several other members of Mamoud’s harem lay topless by the pool. It was what he required of them. His property was closely guarded by an array of palm trees and thick brush, all bounded by a high sandstone wall that stretched to the edge of the beach. The only way in or out of the white sands was through a gate that always remained locked.
The two men stared out at the scene beyond the walls. Turquoise water was intermittently interrupted by the soft, rolling waves of white foam. To the right and to the left of the private property, tourists and Dubai’s elite frolicked in the sea while others lounged in mesh beach chairs.
Mamoud wasn’t thinking about any of that, though. His mind was thousands of miles away. “Is it done?”
“My men said that Wyatt and his friend are both dead.”
“How?”
Sharouf never turned to face his employer, even though Mamoud tilted his head slightly to look indirectly at him. “They were burned to death. My men used a substance that’s similar to napalm but far more difficult to put out. It also spreads twice as fast. The targets were drugged, and their homes set on fire around them. All that is left are charred, unrecognizable corpses.”
Mamoud drew in a long breath and then put the cigar back between his lips. He took a few puffs, letting the smoke escape his mouth and drift away, disappearing instantly in the sea breeze.
“You are certain?”
“You doubt my methods?”
Mamoud was taken aback by the insolence, but he quickly regained his composure, knowing his man meant nothing by it. He was right to say it. Sharouf’s methods were good. Better than good.
“No, my old friend. I simply seek to remove all doubt.”
Sharouf turned his head and peered through Mamoud’s soul. “They are dead. I am sure of it. But my men will linger in the area until the local authorities confirm the deaths. If that is what you wish.”
Mamoud acknowledged it with a dramatic nod. “That will be fine, yes. And I do not doubt your methods.” He felt compelled to reiterate his previous statement. “You are the best at what you do, as are your men. That’s why I pay them.”
He put his hands on the white stone rail and leaned forward, staring out at the scenery. A few miles away, the enormous sail-shaped Burj Al Arab sat precariously in the bay, a strange and miraculous structure that had been built on man-made land. The financial investment that went into creating the opulent hotel had been staggering. It was the first of its kind, a hotel built in the water where no land previously existed. Now, tourists and wealthy visitors flocked to the place. The cheapest room available cost thousands of dollars a night. At one point, the helicopter pad had been converted into a tennis court as a ridiculous publicity stunt. Roger Federer and Andre Agassi had been brought in to play a friendly little game atop the dangerously high area.
Off toward the center of town, the massive Burj Khalifa building towered above all the other tall skyscrapers in the city. It loomed against the skyline like a giant, making all others bow before it.
“Is there anyone else who might know about the artifact?” Mamoud returned his attention to the conversation.
“From what we can tell, Wyatt and his friend were the only other two who knew about it. We haven’t seen any correspondence relating to information on your operation.”
“Good.” He pulled in another puff of smoke from the cigar and released it between his lips. “Has he made any progress?”
Mamoud didn’t need to mention the man by name. Sharouf knew exactly whom he was talking about. The man was the reason all of this had been set in motion, and was why they were talking on the balcony overlooking the Persian Gulf right now.
“He is working day and night to decipher the tablet. He claims that it could take weeks to unlock the meaning of the symbols.”
“Weeks?”
For the first time in their conversation, Sharouf appeared apologetic. “It is a very complex code. The man says it could take a few weeks, but the truth is that he may never be able to solve it. Whoever designed that tablet didn’t want anyone solving it.”
“If they didn’t want anyone to solve it, why leave it there to begin with?” Mamoud shot down the theory immediately. He shook his head as he spoke. “No, this tablet is the key to victory for us. It is the lone clue to finding the Jews’ secret. Once we have it in our possession, no one will be able to stop us.”
Sharouf considered his employer’s words. In his heart, he hoped the man was right. Doubts lingered, though. “He believes it is what you think it is?”
“He is one of the foremost experts on the subject. His life has been dedicated to research and study in hopes of finding those two artifacts. It is what led him to the grave he was excavating when he discovered the tablet. He has set things in motion. Now we must coerce him to continue for our benefit.”
“And if he delays or outright refuses?”
“He won’t. He’s too afraid of death.”
“But what if he does?”
“Then convince him.”
Sharouf gazed into Mamoud’s eyes, studying the cold, merciless orbs. He knew what his boss meant. He’d done his fair share of convincing in the few years he’d been in Mamoud’s employ. For all of his money and life of ease, Mamoud was ruthless. Sharouf had seen him do his own dirty work many times in the past. He was unafraid of being the trigger man when the time called for it. A specific instance from eight months ago popped into his head. He’d watched Mamoud butcher one of his guards for fraternizing with one of the girls from his harem.