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Rachman Mussafi learned of the complete elimination of his kidnap team the next day. The FBI would have been greatly alarmed if they had known how he got the information. The loss of the deal with the sheik was a severe blow to Rachman and it became one more offense that he could lay at his daughter's feet. News that the Banner kid had once more gotten in the way made him even more furious.
Ken Yokata's fear that Rachman would now come after Ismi just for punishment became a reality. Wednesday morning after the failed attempt, three men arrived at Mussafi's office in Riyadh. They were the leaders of his new kidnap team, except that murder would be their fallback option if the kidnap failed. Either way, Amelia and Cal were to be killed.
Ken and his informal but tightly-knit group of friends did not know how severely Rachman would react. However, they did know his type, and their experience told them that reaction would be swift and brutal if it came. At that stage of evolution of the Islamic terrorist movement, there was little central influence and a great deal of anger and over-confidence.
By Saturday evening, a series of carefully protected phone calls and meetings had located a source for the chosen weapon to assassinate Mussafi. It was a deadly poison favored by Arab assassins for over a millennium. Death took many minutes to arrive, but there was no antidote. The victims were conscious through the extreme agony caused by the nerve agent as it gradually scrambled the brain's signals to the body's vital organs until they failed.
To protect Ken, someone else took over leadership of the 'mission'. Since all of the group had solid contacts in the covert services, sufficient funds were acquired quickly and easily. The bulk of these funds were then used to buy the services of active agents already in-country. Truth be told, much of Ken's nest egg had been acquired the same way: he was on the government payroll, but he was paid substantial fees of government money by private parties who had acquired it unofficially.
The poison was to be given to Rachman in his tea, at the office. It was always brought to him in the morning by a servant, a trusted follower of the movement. Suborning the servant was considered impossible, and substituting another servant would not have worked, given Rachman's suspicious nature. Other means of death could certainly have been chosen, but the 'message' value of this traditional technique was considered worth the extra effort and risk.
By mid-morning on Monday, payment money for the procurer of the poison and the one who would administer it had been obtained from an unmonitored government fund and flushed through a series of accounts to a harmless-looking Arab apothecary and a French free-lance operative working as a banker.
Under the guise of a telephone repair crew, two experienced operatives, ones who had worked with Ken in the past, had spent Monday and Tuesday mornings in the office, establishing Rachman's usual schedule. The hit was set up for Wednesday morning.
The planned visit by Mussafi's new kidnap/murder team was unknown to the assassination planners. The plan was quite simple. As the usual servant left the kitchenette of the office after preparing the tea, he was to be nearly run down by two men in Arab dress. One man would quickly grab the tray with the tea to keep if from spilling. He would offer to hold the tray while the servant made certain none had spilled on him. The second man on the team would slip the poison into the tea server when the servant's attention was on his clothes.
The team was surprised to see four cups on the tray, since Rachman was usually served alone. The poison was to be put in the carafe from which the tea was served, so there would be enough to cover the extra servings. The concern was of the consequences of killing additional people that were not involved with Rachman's schemes.
The man with the poison did not hesitate, however, and the tea was fatally seasoned in barely a second of the servant's diverted attention. The poisoner had quickly assumed that anyone visiting Mussafi was equally deserving of death. It was a cold decision, but he was being paid extremely well, and the urgency of the hit had been emphasized as had few others in his experience.
The capture or kill orders were never delivered to Mussafi's new team. Rachman and two of the would-be killers drank some of the tea immediately. The third, the leader of the group, was explaining their qualifications, cup in hand ready to sip, when the first symptoms hit the others.
It took only seconds for Rachman to realize that he was doomed. He began screeching out orders for his three victims to be found and killed. Drawn by the agonized cries of the victims, several co-workers came into the office, one of them Rachman's lawyer. Barely able to speak, Rachman ordered the man to establish his entire fortune for payment of the killers of Amelia, Ismi, and Cal. The lawyer assured him that it would be done. Rachman may or may not have understood the reassurance as the incredible agony drove out conscious thought.
Six or seven minutes later, the three victims lay dead, and the surviving assassin, experienced as he was, was badly shaken. The lawyer pulled him aside and told him "I agreed to his demands to comfort his last moments. His fortune will go to the cause, as his will stipulates. I will not spend it foolishly on revenge that will only bring more of this," and he swept his arm over the gory scene.
The assassination team had doffed their Arab garb as soon as the servant was out of sight on his way to serving the tea. They then approached Rachman's receptionist for appointments that had been set up the previous day, but for which they claimed a mix-up in the scheduled time. When the screams of agony and alarm began, they slipped out to the street, hardly noticed.
The assassination of Mussafi had no official sanction by any U.S. government agency. Yet, it was universally applauded when the circumstances became known, and no effort was made to persuade the Saudi government that it was a private hit. Every government official feared most of all that some angry foreign entity would try to harm his or her family. The quick response to Mussafi's attempt sent a message that allowed many thousands to sleep a little easier.
Because it represented something dear to the hearts of every warrior with a family, Ken was assured that the assassination had not cost him any accrued 'favor credits'. It had quickly become everyone's cause.
Ken had the task of informing Amelia and Ismi of Rachman's death. Amelia reacted impassively, as if she had expected it. "You arranged this, didn't you?" she asked. When he just looked at her without answering, she kissed him on the cheek and said "Thank you. Thank you for giving us back our life."
Ismi's reaction was totally different, and totally opposite her personality. "How did he die?" she demanded. "I hope it was painful! Did he know why he was dying?" When Ken described what had happened, she exclaimed "That's perfect! Thank you." She also assumed that Ken had arranged it.
Ismi asked of she could tell Cal, who was still in the hospital. Because of all his visitors and the restrictions on visiting time, it was her first chance to be alone with him. He took the news without much reaction, then told her "Mr. Yokata told me how you jumped on that guy. That took a lot of guts. Thank you! He would have killed me for sure if you hadn't done that. Mr. Yokata was too far behind him."
"But if I hadn't..." she started to protest and tell him how she might have triggered the second attack, he cut her off.
"I don't want to talk about what anyone did wrong," he chided her. "Everything was confused, and we all did the best we could. We won. I wouldn't be here without what you did."
"Well, I think you're still a couple of life-savings up on me," she said in an attempt to lighten the mood. Then, she got serious again. "Would you have, uh, taken my cherry if I had asked?"
"I don't really know. I like to think I would have talked you out of it, but I'm only human. And male. And almost always horny." That made them both laugh a little.
"Well, thank you for making me think so hard about it. You were right. It would have been for the wrong reasons. Maybe now it could be for the right reason." She blushed beautifully as she said that.
"Um, uh, I don't think gratitude is, uh, the right reason, either."
"God, Cal. You sure know how to ruin a girl's confidence. I've never seen a guy work so hard to avoid making love!" She said it with obvious mirth, and they had another laugh which ended in a groan from him.
"It may be a while before I really feel like laughing," he told her. "Let's keep things serious, here." That was, of course, a self-defeating plea that led to more laughter and another groan.
"OK. Seriously, I'm going to hold out, as long as I've come this far. I love you, Cal, but we're not... I mean I don't think we were meant to be... uh... partners. Do you?"
"Nah," he answered in mock seriousness. "There are too many other guys waiting, and I hate standing in line." She was all wound up for another of those girly slaps but barely remembered in time that she was about to slap his wounded left side. The lack of long-term intentions between the two of them did not prevent her from delivering a very intense parting kiss.
Teri and Tessa finally got a chance to be the only visitors. After a blistering kiss from each of them, there was a strange silence.
"I hope you two aren't going to be afraid to talk to me after this," he told them. "Honest, Tessa, I'd never get THAT mad at you." His little joke broke the silence, but only because Tessa started crying.
"It's... it's just that it seems like I really never knew you at all," she wailed. "I mean... I've known you forever, but... how could you KILL someone? I just don't understand!"
"Tessa, try to think of this: suppose some guys were trying to kidnap you or rape you, and I was there. What would you want me to do?"
"Well, I, uh, can't imagine that ever happening," she said uncertainly.
"But it DID happen to Ismi, Tessa. And it happens all over. Every day. When Kal died, I vowed I would never let it happen again if I could help it."
"And it almost cost you your life!" Tessa almost screamed.
"But if I had let it happen, I would not have wanted to live," he said with a tone the sent chills through both women.
Teri had said nothing up to that point. She moved her chair closer to the bed, took Cal's right hand, and held the back of it firmly to one breast. With a slightly defiant look at her daughter, she began to speak softly.
"Do you remember the day you came over after Tessa showed me the boob shot? I think you were worried sick that I was going to be angry." Cal nodded his head at the memory.
"Well, when you were talking so respectfully about how your folks didn't know much about your photography, I wondered if you were just too nice a guy. I wondered if you were tough enough for the real world. God! How stupid could I get?"
"But what happened Friday wasn't the real world, Teri. It was a kind of a nightmare that any of us can end up in at any time. The real world is where Tessa and I piss each other off without knowing why. It's where you and I have to steal an hour here and there about a tenth as often as I would like. What I did in the nightmare has nothing to do with my real world." As he said that, he turned his hand and unashamedly squeezed her breast.
With a shudder, Teri said "Damn it, Cal! Don't say those things about getting together. I've been going nuts since Friday, and I don't know when..."
"As soon as I can, I promise," Cal assured her. "The photo business must be getting way behind," he added with a grin.
"Uh, yeah," she replied, getting into the spirit. "We'll have to spend a lot of time to catch up, won't we." Tessa stuck two fingers down her throat and made a gagging sound. Teri turned to her and said "Don't forget, daughter of mine, you set us up." Tessa showed with a grin that she was not really upset. Her eyes kept flicking to Cal's hand that was busy on her mother's breast.
"You know," Teri said cautiously, "I was a little worried that I might lose you to Ismi. She's awfully tough competition."
"She was just here and we talked about that," he assured her. "We agreed that we were not meant for each other. We will always have a special love, but not romantic love." The look of relief on both women's faces was poignant.
By the time he was released on Friday, Cal was more than a little concerned with the way everyone was reacting to him. It was as if they never really knew him. He did not want to feel any different about himself or his loved ones, but it was obvious that that was an impossibility.
It was Mr. Yokata that provided him even more food for thought. He visited Cal on the first day at home. "First of all, Cal, after what we have been through together, please call me Ken, except at the dojo. We are warriors who have battled together. We have risked life and taken life together. We are equals, and I don't consider you to be just a student. Best not to let the other students know this, though."
"I have something serious to discuss with you, though," Ken went on. "You did not choose what happened, but it has changed you forever. You've probably noticed other people reacting differently to you. They just don't know how to relate to what you did."
"The hardest thing will be that you will no longer see anything the same way as you did before. Battle, and especially taking a life, just does that to a man. You didn't choose for it to happen, but it can't be undone."
"I haven't noticed that I feel any different," Cal objected.
"You haven't gotten back into the real world, yet, because of your wound," Ken explained. "It will hit you, believe me. Some things that used to seem important will start to seem trivial, and perhaps irritating. The hardest things will be the memories. They are different for everyone, but very often the faces of those you killed will haunt you. That fact that you did what you had to do and that they deserved to die doesn't make much difference."
"I know you had nightmares before," Ken continued. "If you get them again, I encourage you to see your Dr. Waxman again."
"Amelia killed that man," Cal blurted out. "How will this affect her?"
"That's a very good question, Cal. I can tell you that it has disturbed her greatly. At the same time, she does not feel any remorse. She knows she had to do it to protect Ismi, and you and me, too. I think mothers have a special protective instinct that allows them to justify anything in defense of their offspring without remorse. Women are just fiercer than we men are when their kids are involved. She seems to feel more of a sense of fulfillment than any regret or remorse."
Ken paused for a moment, looking uncertain, then plunged ahead. "Because of your relationship with Mrs. Walts, I feel I can talk to you man to man."
"What?" Cal demanded. "What about Teri?"
"Oh, I am certain that you two are involved sexually." Ken held up his hand as Cal tried to say something more. "Don't worry. No one else has guessed, I am sure. And I don't judge you for it. You are two fine people who are good for each other right now."
Ken decided to stop and let Cal absorb things for a while. When he continued, he said "Because of your concern for Amelia, and because you have a man's experience with a good woman, I will tell you this. In just these few days, Amelia and I have become extremely close. We are not yet intimate, but I believe that will happen soon."
Cal was grinning broadly, and said "I am totally surprised, but I can't think of two people I would rather see making each other happy. She is some kind of woman!"
"Don't I know it," Ken responded. "I was smitten by her when she first came to the dojo. She, however, viewed me as some kind of a monster until she shot that man. It was as if it opened up an understanding of me that she never would have had otherwise. In helping her through her trauma, we have shared a lot."
"So Ismi will have a father she can really look up to," Cal enthused.
"That thought may be premature, but..."
They discussed the changes and stresses that Cal might encounter for quite a while longer. Before Ken left, Cal told him "My nightmares before were because of my helplessness. I don't feel helpless any more. I don't think there will be any nightmares. I have not felt the slightest bit of guilt. I can honestly say I would kill those men again to protect Ismi or anyone else I care for."
Cal was still not allowed to stand because of his foot, but they exchanged a firm hand shake as they parted.
Ken was barely out the door before Cal felt a chill run through him. Ken knew about his affair with Teri. Ken might be the most perceptive person Cal knew, but if he could see it, others would eventually, also. Both he and Teri had always known there was great risk, but the euphoria of their first weeks together had pushed it back in their minds. Ken's disclosure had brought it front and center where it could not be ignored.
Pete's and Ismi's graduation was the first event for which Cal left the house. After a rather heated argument with the rest of the family, he gave in and used the crutches, rather than just the cane he wanted to go with. His foot was not casted, just heavily bandaged, but he had been sternly cautioned not to stress it at all.
After the ceremony, Pete stayed right with Cal, making his friends come to him for congratulations. It was far more attention than Cal would have expected, but it was very welcome. Ismi was on the other side of Cal most of the time. Every one at school had heard some version of the tale, and it was generally assumed that Cal and Ismi were a couple. It was just too dramatic and romantic not to be true.
The football coach came up to Cal and gave a very disapproving look at the bandaged right foot. "Don't worry coach," Cal told him. "It's just a stress fracture. I'll be ready for fifty-yarders in no time."
It wasn't until he noticed strange looks from Pete, the coach, and a few teammates gathered around that Cal realized what he had done. Not only had he rarely spoken to the coach, adopting such a jocular, familiar tone with him was something NO ONE on the team ever did, not even Pete.
Cal had not felt any lack of respect for the coach. He just did not feel the gulf between them that he always had before, and that all of the players must have still felt. It was the first inkling that Ken's prophecy was accurate. One thing in Cal's life certainly was different. He made a mental note to never address the coach that way again, for the sake of team discipline and unity.
The trip to graduation tired Cal to a disturbing degree. As he lay in bed recovering, he was not able to sleep. He began thinking about the adults in his life. Being a naturally respectful person, he was always uniformly polite to adult relatives, teachers, coaches, and customers. It was because he considered them to be in a position superior to his own, either by family position or authority.
Thinking about the coach, he still respected him. But now it was because he was a person who was good at what he did, and one who returned respect to his players. There was no automatic respect just because he was the coach and Cal only a player.
He had not realized it at the time, but Cal had talked to his father with the respect of an equal when he had told him about the first attack. His father deserved all of his respect, but because he had earned it, not just because it was Cal's duty as the child.
Why did he suddenly think of himself as equal to all of the adults in his life? He was still just fifteen, not yet qualified to drive. Did killing a man really change his perspective that much? Ken's words came back to him. Facing death and taking life really were as significant as Ken had said. They were things only a small percentage of men experienced. No one could truly remain a child afterward.
That's where the caring part of Cal took over. He already knew that those close to him were having trouble with who he now was. It was his job to make it easier for them. He could not allow himself to disrespect them in any way just because of his new view of himself in the universe. For their sakes, he had to show as much of the old Cal as he possibly could. Just because he felt more equal to them did not mean he loved them less.
Cal's freshman year had been one of massive change and upheaval in almost every part of his life.
Instead of just golf, he now had great prospects in both football and basketball. In fact, golf had definitely receded to the background.
From having never been kissed, never having a date, and not being very concerned about relationships with women, he now had a wonderful older lover.
From being the little brother of Rebecca, and for all practical purposes Tessa and Ismi as well, he was now the undisputed alpha male to his circle of girls. Elaine and Teri could be legitimately included in that circle, as well.
He had entered into martial arts to counteract feelings of helplessness. He had followed his training fanatically, but he was as secretive about it as he could be. Now, his victorious defense of someone he cared about had validated all of his dedication. There were no longer any shreds of the fear of helplessness.
Perhaps the biggest change of all was one he did not fully recognize. He had been faced with surrendering his own life for the benefit of someone he had purposed to defend. He had chosen the sacrifice, but he had survived. Without realizing it, he had become a true warrior. His new set of values could be acquired in no other way, and was understood and appreciated by only those with the same life experience.
Martin had been battered by conflicting emotions since THE DAY. Disbelief over his youngest's actions and abilities warred with pride over the courage and character Cal had shown.
His insistence on remaining at the hospital when the others had left was driven by a sense of a widening gulf between himself and his son. He had often regretted that they were not closer, and had become almost fanatical about attending every one of Cal's games. His enthusiastic support of the photo business was another attempt to keep in touch any way that he could.
Maris
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