At the end of a twenty-kilometer drive, Ibn slowed the Volvo and stopped at a gate leading up to a small villa squatting on a low hill overlooking a wide sandy beach.
Ammar shut down the computer and stepped from the car. Four guards in desert sand-colored fatigues surrounded him and efficiently searched his clothing. As a backup safeguard he was directed to walk through an airport-type X-ray detector.
He was then led up a stone stairway to the villa past crudely built concrete compounds manned by a small army of Yazid's elite bodyguards.
Ammar smiled as they bypassed the ornate front archway, open to honored visitors, and entered through a small side door. He brushed off the insult, knowing it was Yazid's shallow-minded way of humbling those who did his dirty work but were not accepted to his inner circle of fanatic grovelers.
He was ushered into a stark and empty room furnished with only one wooden stool and a large Persian Kashan carpet that hung from one wall.
The interior was hot and stuffy. There were no windows and the only illumination came from an overhead skylight. Without a word the guards retreated and closed the door.
Annnar yawned, casually held up his wristwatch as if checking the time.
Next he removed his dark glasses and rubbed his eyes. The practiced gestures enabled him to locate the tiny lens of a TV camera within the design of the hanging carpet without giving his discovery away.
He stewed for nearly an hour before the carpet was pulled aside and Akhmad Yazid strutted through a small archway into the room.
The spiritual leader of the Egyptian Muslims was young, no more than thirty-five. He was a small man; he had to look up to meet Ammar's eyes. His face did not have the precise features of most Egyptians, the chin and cheekbones were softer, more rounded. His head was covered by a white lace cloth wound in an abbreviated turban, and his broom handle-dun body was draped in a white silk caftan. When moving from shadow to light, his eyes seemingly altered from black to dark brown.
As a sign of respect, Ammar gave a slight nod without looking Yazid in the eye.
"Ah, my friend," Yazid said warmly. "Good to have you back."
Ammar looked up, smiled and began playing the game. "I'm honored to stand in your presence, Akhmad Yazid."
"Please sit," Yazid said. It was an order rather than an invitation.
Ammar complied, sitting on the small wooden stool so Yazid could look down on him. Yazid also added another form of humiliation. He circled the room as he lectured without prologue, forcing Amrnar to twist around the stool to follow him.
"Every week brings a major challenge to President Hasan's fragile authority. All that prevents his fall is the loyalty of the military.
He can still rely on the 350,000-strong army for support. for the moment, Defense Minister Abu Hamid straddles the fence. He has assured me he will throw his support to ouir movement for an Islamic republic, but only if we will a national referendum without bloodshed."
"Is that bad?" asked Ammar with an innocent expression.
Yazid gave him a cold stare. "The man is a pro-Western charlatan, too cowardly to give up American aid. All that matters to him are his precious jets, helicopter gunships and tanks. He fears Egypt will go the way of Iran. The idiot insists on an orderly transition of governments so loans from world banks and financial aid from America will keep pouring in,"
Them He paused, gazing directly into Ammar's eyes, as if daring his prize assassin to contradict him again. Ammar remained silent. The stifling room began to close in on him.
"Abu Hamid also demands my promise that Hala Kamil will remain SecretaryGeneral of the United Nations," Yazid added.
"Yet you ordered me to eliminate her," Ammar said, curious.
Yazid nodded. "Yes, I wanted the bitch dead because she is using her position in the U.N. as a platform to voice her opposition to our movement and turn world opinion against me. Abu Haniid, however, would have slammed the door in my face if she'd been openly assassinated-the reason why I counted on you, Suleiman, to remove her with an unquestionable accident. Regrettably, you failed. You managed to kill everyone on board the aircraft except Kamil."
The last words fell like a hammer. Ammar's outward calm disintegrated.
He looked up at Yazid in blank confusion.
"She lives?"
Yazid's eyes went cold. "The news broke in Washington less than one hour ago. The plane crashed in Greenland. Every U.N. passenger except Kamil and all but two of the crew were found dead from poison."
"Poison?" Ammar murmured skeptically.
"Our paid sources in the American news media have confirmed the report.
What were you thinking of, Suleiman? You assured me the plane was supposed to vanish in the sea."
"Do they say how it reached Greenland?"
"A flight steward discovered the bodies of the flight crew. With help from a Mexican delegate, he took over the controls and managed to crash-land in a fjord on the coast. Kamil might have died from exposure, cutting you off the hook, but an American naval vessel happened to be crusing nearby. They responded almost immediately and saved her life."
Ammar was stunned. He was not used to failure. He could not imagine how his exactingly conceived plan had gone so far off track. He closed his eyes, seeing the plane clear the summit of the glacier. Almost instantly he gleaned the imponderables, focusing on a piece of the puzzle that didn't fit.
Yazid stood qtuetly for a few moments, then broke Ammar's concentration.
"You realize, of course, I will be accused of this mess."
"There is no evidence tying me to the disaster or me to you," Ammar said firmly.
"Perhaps, but call it guilt by motive. Speculation and rumor will convict me in the Western news media. I should have you executed. "
Ammar wiped his mind clear and shrugged indifferently. "That would be a sad waste. I'm still the best eliminator in the Middle East."
"And the highest paid."
"I'm not in the habit of charging for unfinished projects."
"I would hope not," said Yazid acidly. He abruptly spun and walked toward the hanging carpet. He reached out and pulled it back with his left hand, paused and turned back to Ammar. "I must prepare my mind for prayer. You may go, Suleiman Aziz Ammar."
"And Hala Kaniil? The job is unfinished."
"I am turning her removal over to Muhammad Ismail."
"Ismail," Ammar grunted. "The man is a cretin."
"He can be trusted."
"for what, cleaning sewers?"
Yazid's hard, cold eyes stared at Ammar menacingly. "Kamil is no longer your concern. Remain here in Egypt near my side. My faithful advisers and I have another project to advance our cause. You will have an opportunity to redeem yourself in the eyes of Allah."
Before Yazid could enter the archway, Ammar rose to his feet. "The Mexican delegate who helped fly the aircraft. Was he also poisoned?"
Yazid turned and shook his head. "The report states he was killed in the crash."
Then he was gone and the carpet dropped back.
Ammar settled on the stool again. Slowly the revelation broke through the mists of the enigma. He should have been maddened, but there wasn't the slightest feeling of anger. Instead, an amused smile curled under his mustache.
"So there were two of us," he mused aloud to the empty room. "And the other one poisoned the in-flight meal service." Then he shook his head in wonderment. "Poison in the Beef Wellington. My god, how quaint."