Agent of Influence: A Thriller (37 page)

Aman crump
led up the list of favors and threw it towards the nearest trashcan without a second thought.  He punched in the phone number he knew by heart and called the one person who could find out who had been in Cairo trying to pull information from Aziz.  The gravely voice on the other end was not happy with the request. He protested that he had already done enough for Aman over the years, and that he could get in trouble for asking the wrong questions. He told Aman he would not be much use to him if he got kicked off the Senate Intelligence Panel.  A few minutes of arm-bending and some additional promises of assistance for his region finally persuaded the Jewish senator to agree to find out what he could.  Aman hung up the telephone immediately and called Zach.

             
“Zach, we need to talk right away. I have some bad news. I’m coming over to see you right now, so stay put,” he ordered.

“What is it? What has happened?” Zach asked hurriedly. He did not like surprises.

              Aman shook his head in an exasperated fashion. The man had not changed in some facets. He could not just take a command lying down. He always was questioning orders.

“Just stay at the hotel. I’ll
be there as soon as possible.” He punched the end button on his cell phone without waiting for a response. The sense of urgency propelled him out of the chair and towards the limousine idling outside in the circular driveway.

             
If there was one part of Aman’s body that had not deteriorated over the years it was his eyes.  They were as strong and penetrating as the day Zach first entered the United States that glorious May morning. Aman’s stare was one of the few things Zach still feared. The piercing glare of Aman’s two black bullets were currently focused on the bleach blonde hooker scurrying about the hotel suite, picking up random articles of clothing that were scattered throughout. Every few seconds their line of fire darted back to Zach, who was standing in the doorway of the bedroom with nothing on but an ivory silk robe with the hotel’s initials on the left chest area. Zach kept his hands sheepishly tucked inside the front pockets, waiting for the situation to improve. The woman grabbed her large satchel and a fistful of money that had been strewn about the leather couch. Zach cringed as Aman furiously slammed the door behind her, just barely missing her posterior. The Secret Service would sneak her out the basement of the hotel.

             
Katie was a favorite of many of the congressmen and senators. Her only devotion was to money, which made her easy to control.  She had no interest in publicity. If she did, she could have ratted out any of the hundreds of politicians with whom she did business. Yohan, who had partaken of her services until just a few years earlier when he attempted to be faithful to his wife, had suggested her to Aman. At least that was the excuse Yohan had told Aman.  Zach guessed that he probably was slowly losing his manhood and did not want to admit it.

             
“Don’t worry. She keeps her mouth shut. At least outside the bedroom,” Zach said with a smirk. He lit a cigarette and inhaled the narcotic, letting the smoke coat his lungs. A cigarette was still the perfect ending to an evening of fornication. The politically correct crowd continued to try to eradicate smoking from every possible venue. The American populace could focus on the most insignificant problems sometimes, Zach thought as he flicked the first ash into an ashtray on a table. It was this short attention span that was so useful in the campaigns he ran over the years.

             
Now all that frivolous politicking was finally paying off. He was at a point he never thought he would actually reach. He could still vividly recall his arrival in the United States, hidden in plain sight as a stable hand for Aziz and his horse.  The old man had been like a father to him while in Cairo, rescuing him when he was at his darkest point and showing him a way out of the black hole. 

The streets of
Cairo were a confusing place in the 1960s. The population was torn between Nasser’s pseudo-socialistic regime, and the rising influence of the revolutionaries calling for a return to a pure Islamist state. There were thousands of children born after WWII who were forced to make a choice between these two extremes. Murders were commonplace throughout the city as Nasser used a brutal secret police to quell any descent. This only strengthened the resolve of the revolutionaries. It was a battle for the soul of Egypt, and the battle was still raging.

The battle for supremacy in the Muslim world went exactly as Aziz predicted. Both sides waged a guerilla war, however, the
only true victor was the West. Aziz was a genius, a thinker way ahead of his time, as all the great ones were, Zach realized. Now he was about to fulfill Aziz’s dream. With one stroke he would wipe the slate clean. He prayed every day that Aziz would live long enough to see the finale.  The man saved him from ruin after the death of his parents. He tutored him on the hidden ways of the world and introduced him to the Brotherhood of the Caliphate, the secretive organization with a single- minded purpose to return Islam to its rightful place at the forefront of the world.

Zach had not spoken to Aziz since being left in Aman’s care in 1973, but he knew what his teache
r thought of Osama Bin Laden. Aziz would want nothing to do with him. Islam would never return to power as long as Muslims were trying to destroy each other. The proof of this fallacy could be found in the ten-year siege of Afghanistan. They conquered the Soviets, but at what cost? As soon as the war was over the mujahedin were at each other’s throats, fighting for power and territory. The constant in-fighting left no one strong enough to unite all the factions of Islam. At the same time, the weakening of the Soviet Union only served to make America stronger. American power was simply too gargantuan to try to slowly bleed it dry. It had to be wiped out with one stroke, but only when the time was right. This required patience and fortitude, which most men lacked.

Zach still thought of those early teachings as the b
est days of his life. The thought of being worthy enough to assist Aziz in his grand struggle was an incredible feeling, Zach remembered, as if his destiny was laid out before him. When he mentioned his feelings to Aziz after a lecture the old man had smiled respectfully, and told him to be patient. All grand feelings would eventually pass and be replaced by the redundancy of everyday life. If one can fight through this complacency, and the fire was still burning, Aziz explained, then he would be ready for the next step. Aziz used Zach’s parents’ death to cultivate his anger and despondency, and turned them into motivation. 

             
Zach recalled when Aziz told him that in order to succeed he must be willing to purge himself of his identity and create a new one as a true Christian. He remembered the years of grueling teachings Aziz forced him to undergo. During that time he was taught everything about the West and America. By the time it was complete he felt like he no longer knew himself.

The training lasted until he was nearly fifteen. Zach was then informed that he would be sent to America for the rest of his life to fulfill his calling.  He always knew that this was their ultimate plan, but it was still a depressing time. He did not want to leave Aziz, but the fire within him was ignited, and he was anxious to begin his quest to reassert Islam’s supremacy. The decadency of the Americans reached staggering proportions by the time they were preparing to infiltrate him into the United States. The Vietnam War had been raging for several years. It was proving a political disaster, and showcasing once again their arrogance and continued determination to force their values on a helpless country.

             
He recalled the unusually warm night when Aziz told him for the first time they were leaving for America to meet up with another brother-in-arms. All the schooling and training he attacked with such vigor over the past several years would now be put to the test. He was to live with Aziz’s counterpart in the United States. The cover story was perfectly forged, and Zach dutifully followed the teachings and instruction he received. It was time for his first step in a long journey. 

Before leaving
for America Zach was given the one item that would identify him as a true member of the Brotherhood of the Caliphate. In a small ritual attended by just a few confidants he received the small tattoo on his inner thigh, the symbol of the Caliphate. Aziz embraced him after the ceremony, telling him he was now a full-fledged member of their honored fraternity. The tattoo was seared into his skin, under the hair of his inner thigh. He was told to never show it to anyone until the time was right. Their journey commenced.

             
It started out horribly. He had never been outside Egypt, and the long boat ride across the Atlantic proved painful. He quickly discovered he hated the ocean, and spent much of his time in his own cabin vomiting as a storm rocked the massive steam liner they were riding. Aziz also neglected him on the ship, instead spending his time making sure the horse was comfortable, and tending to other projects from which Zach was excluded. By the time they arrived in New York harbor Zach was frustrated and depressed. The cultural shock of America only worsened his mood. He thought he knew all about the Americans. After all, he studied them intensely for years, but nothing could prepare him for his first encounter with the superpower. 

              The train ride through several states, as they made their way to
Kentucky, opened his eyes to the scale of the task they were burdening themselves with.  Despite the stories he heard about the disarray the country was in, he still saw nothing resembling the slums of Cairo. Could this seemingly invincible nation really be brought out of its arrogant state of mind?  Seeing the country up close for the first time, he now realized why Aziz constantly expressed to him the enormity of their mission.

              “Patience.” He could still remember Aziz’s silky voice repeating it over and over. “All empires are destroyed,” Aziz had explained. “Look at ancient Rome. It once appeared invulnerable until it crumbled under the burden of its immorality. The Muslim Caliphate, which once possessed hegemony over all of the Middle East and Europe in the fourteenth century, was also destroyed. The corrupt eventually crumble under their own weight.”

He remembered Aziz preaching that the original Caliphates were brought down by the
Shia and Sunni rift that tore Islam apart. The Muslim world never recovered from this divide. Instead of focusing on their true enemies, Muslims spent the last few centuries tearing at each others’ throats, while their true enemies established dominion over the entire world.  Only someone with the forbearance to stalk his enemy, and carefully wait for that perfect moment, would be able to pull off a monumental task such as the destruction of the United States as a superpower.

Despite some of the American governments’ po
or decisions regarding war, it always managed to land on its feet. The sheer size of the country protected its soft underbelly. Zachariah had watched throughout the years as some of his enemies and friends in the government committed political suicide in their quest for money and power. It would be his job to instigate the first political genocide the country has ever seen. Only then will the rest of the world devour the carcass of America and look for a replacement to fill the void. The return of the Caliphate was the only entity powerful enough to fill such a vacuum. However, a person could not claim the lofty title of the Caliphate without humbling the West in a manner which has never been done before. That was Zach’s purpose, mission, and destiny.

             
Zach’s wondering mind returned to the moment. “Well, what is so important that you had to dash over here so quickly? I was about to look over the inauguration speech.”

“Aziz is dead, Zach. His errand boy found his body. Luckily he called me immediately. I have trusted men taking care of the situation as we speak.”

Zach stood dumbfounded, unable to accept the possibility that his savior was dead. The fond memories of just a few moments before were wiped away with the devastating news. He stared at the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge the truth of the old man’s death. Zach’s lower lip quivered. Just when it appeared as though he may cry, his face instead turned into a taut ball of anger. He steeled himself for the rest of the conversation. “What happened?” Zach demanded.

The intensity of the question shook Aman. “
He killed himself. Apparently some of our friends in the U.S. government showed up to question him. I have Yohan trying to find out whom right now. We all know Aziz’s health has deteriorated over the last several years.  We both know how much he detests suicide. He must have felt they were on to something. He was probably afraid he would crack under interrogation. It is the only thing that would cause him to take such a drastic course.”

Zach stood motionless. The fire of the forgotten cigarette burnt his hand and he dropped it to the floor, wincing in pain. He stamped it out with his foot.  “What is our next step?”

“Nothing. Continue on as normal. We have our scheduled walkthrough at FBI headquarters tomorrow. There you can announce your selection for commerce secretary. Hopefully by then Yohan will have some useful information for us. In the meantime, it is best we continue as if nothing has changed. If they had anything concrete on you I’m sure they would have already paid you a visit. I believe we are safe for the moment.”

             
“Have you heard anything regarding our man in the White House?” Zach ran his hands through his hair, assessing the image of himself in the mirror above the fireplace.