Fortunes Obsession (26 page)

He chuckled at how easy this was going to be.  He regretted that it would mean leaving the lovely Sarita behind and probably out of his life altogether but hadn't he proved that there were many exquisite women willing to give themselves to him completely.  Goodbye, Sarita, he thought and hello my new love whoever you are.  He lifted Mustafa to his feet and said. " You sniveling, worthless piece of shit.  I am going to spare your life if you do exactly as I say."

Mustafa straightened up his clothing and walked fearfully at Fahd's side.  He slid behind the wheel and drove to Fahd's apartment.  Fahd turned surreptitiously and noticed a plain looking Ford Taurus about three cars behind.  The fools.  Why didn't they use luxury cars so you couldn't pick them out so easily.  He shook his head and relaxed, knowing that all would be well.

       **************************************************************

Bokaar sat across the desk from a grimy looking man.  He was in a loft in Jersey City and was unhappy about the price of the detonators he needed.  The bearded man behind the desk growled.

"  If you don't want it, just walk out of here.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

Bokaar knew that if he didn't buy, he would never walk out of the building alive.  As long as they had something on him, they were safe.  If he didn't buy, they had nothing to keep him from compromising them.  Bokaar dug into is pocket and pulled out a wad of bills and paid the price.

Bey would be furious.  Every dollar spent was less money for them to pocket.

He knew that the smart thing to do now would be to take a cab to Newark airport and fly back to Orlando but the tall blonde beauty preyed on his mind.  He contemplated hot wiring a car and driving to Manhattan but instead opted to rent one under one of his many identities and many false driver's licenses.  He rented a Lincoln Town car because of the size of the trunk.  He would abduct her, throw her in the trunk and take her to the house in Paramus.  The anticipation of what he would do to her inflamed him with desire and made him forget the detonators thrown into the back seat of the car.  In his crazed brain, the only thing that mattered now was the girl.

                    *************************************************

     Collins was beside himself with fear.  How could he not realize that he was dealing with people that were so without conscience that they would kill him rather than be grateful for his help.

He was busy at a drawing table and computer, planning the operation, minute by minute. Bey stood beside him, adding comments from time to time. Collins was amazed at the intelligence and cold dedication of this man.  Bey, more than any of the others, could assimilate easily in America.

He was educated, had a family and was brilliant.  He could make it big in America.  Collins

couldn't understand that with the good life available in America, how this man could be such a fanatic.  Then again, he was having trouble understanding himself.  He really wanted out of this thing but he had taken the money and even if he chose to return it, he was past the point of no return.  He knew that he had to go through with it.  He would give anything if he could walk away now.  When the sober Farley Collins realized that by blowing up the launch, he would be assassinating the entire crew plus God knows who else, he was distraught.  When he first turned over the information, he thought that random explosions would be set off around the complex and never imagined anyone killed, which he now knew was ridiculous.  He never really thought about the launch itself.  It was a bold move and almost impossible but he knew things that could make it possible. He had a terrible premonition that one way or another he was going to die.

Bey was angry.  " I have heard nothing from that pig Bokaar.  I still think the detonators we have here are sufficient. The fool is a perfectionist.  I worry about his temper getting him and us in trouble. I tell you, Collins,  I'll be happy when I see his fat body come through that door."

Bey was more and more treating Collins as a contemporary.  Perhaps Bey respected him a man of equal intelligence to his own.  He felt that he had a better chance of remaining alive if Bokaar never came back.  He turned to Bey with a friendly tone.

" I don't know if you are aware that I have extensive training in demolition.  If Bokaar doesn't return, I can rig all the charges and supervise your commandos.  I'd be happy to do so."

Bey put his arm around Collins and with a sincere tone, told him, " Wonderful, wonderful, we will certainly keep that in mind........I think I knew that about you but had forgotten completely."

He reached for Bokaar's notebook on the demolition and handed it to Collins. " Here, look this over and tell me what you think.  Don't worry it's in English."

Bey felt a lot better now.  Bokaar was a loose cannon and just one more person to share the money, both the fee and any surplus.  He hoped the fat fool never came back.  He would cultivate this man Collins and have him  eliminated as soon as the project was successful.

                          ******************************************

     Saturday morning.  Peter and Dara packed a picnic lunch and were as happy as they ever thought they could be.  Peter's very good friend, George Meagher, had graciously offered the use of his boat, which was docked in Port Washington, Long Island.  It was thirty feet long and had a cabin with a head and galley.  The happy couple packed their necessities and took the picnic basket and a cooler of cold beer.  Peter had rented a car for the day and already had it parked in the building's garage.  On the way down in the elevator, Dara thought of the Porsche 928 and thought it would have been great if the two of them could drive out there in it.  But, she thought, it wasn't worth what she had to do to get it.  She shuddered each time she thought of her old life.

Memory was a selective thing.  She had no recollection of how much she had enjoyed that life.

As they headed for the Triboro bridge, they had no idea that the Lincoln Continental a few cars back was following them closely.

     Bokaar reveled in his good luck.  He had almost given up after sitting across from the building for the last four hours and in addition had almost missed the grey Dodge coming up the garage ramp.  At the last second he had seen the couple sitting in the front seat.  He thought of how angry they would be in Cocoa Beach at his long absence.  Fuck them, he thought.  He had given his whole life to these operations from the day they let him out of prison.  Over thirty years of dedication to the cause.  Piss on the cause.  He was going to have this woman and he was prepared to kill the young man to get her.  In fact, it would be a pleasure to kill him , after

the humiliation he had suffered at his hands.  He had to exercise all of his skill as a driver to keep up with them in the late summer Saturday morning traffic.  Cars were constantly getting in between them and he momentarily lost sight of them.  By the time they exited the Long Island Expressway and headed North, he had almost lost them five times. Allah was with him though.

Following them through the suburban streets was far easier than following them on the highways.

He had no idea where they were going or how he was going to take them.   He knew one thing. He was going to take them or die trying.  Cape Canaveral was no longer in his thoughts. He was obsessed now with this mission and this mission only.  They seemed to drive forever before they turned west into the town of Port Washington.  Bokaar took no notice of the charming, upscale suburban community with it's Saturday morning shoppers just starting to appear of the street.

After they were through the town a series of marinas started to appear and Bokaar now surmised they were going to a boat.  This complicated matters .  He had no boat to follow them, or the means of getting one.  He would play it by ear and if need be would wait until they came out.

There were too many people here to take them at gunpoint in broad daylight.  Luckily, he had purchased a 9mm Glock from his detonator supplier as he had to leave his own gun in Florida due to airport security measures.  He knew he never would have been able to transport it to New York.  He hated to part with the money but what he was about to get now was worth any price.

     Peter and Dara exited the car and were oblivious to the man sitting in the Lincoln on the other end of the parking lot.  They boarded the boat and loaded the provisions as Bokaar, frustrated looked on from his car.

     Peter was looking at the engine and figuring out the mechanics of it, when Dara came up behind him.  " Honey, I'm going up to the yacht club to use the bathroom.  I hate these little boat

toilets.  " I don't blame you", Peter said, " They're a lot easier for me than they are for you.

     Bokaar couldn't believe it.  He saw her walk up the side steps, which were beautifully hidden from Peter's vision on the boat.  There were few people around and he could easily get her to the car with no fuss at all.  He took the gun and stood underneath the side steps, waiting for her to exit.

    She felt the cold steel of the gun at the back of her head and recognized the voice immediately.

A cold wave of fear enveloped her.  " If you make one sound, I will kill you.  Don't try to run."

His other hand was hooked in the back of her belt and led her across the parking lot. She felt faint and on the edge of tears.  Her mind raced furiously, trying to conjure up some means of escape but to no avail.  She realized now that sending her to her mother's in Pennsylvania had been the right way to go.  She couldn't believe it. Five minutes ago, she had been as happy as she had ever been and now she was facing  rape or worse and certainly, death.  He held her by the belt as he unlocked the trunk of the Lincoln and the next thing she new, she was brutally heaved into the trunk and the darkness and heat enveloped her as the lid closed.  She was in a claustrophobic panic and fought hyperventilation.  she knew that she had to keep her wits about her and think of ways to escape this fiend.  She heard the engine start and the car began to move.

     Peter was puzzled.  He had not looked at his watch but sensed that it had been an awfully long time since Dara left for the ladies room.  He walked up to the yacht club and found it empty.

He walked over to the bartender,  " Did you see a tall blonde woman come in here?  She came in to use the ladies room.  I can't believe she's still in there."  The bartender leered.  " Couldn't miss that one, no sir.  That was a head turner.  You're out of luck though.  I saw her leave with another guy.  Had his arm around her.  They left in a big Lincoln about ten minutes ago."

     " That's impossible.  Are you sure we're talking about the same girl?"  The bartender smiled.

" Mister , there ain't two girls that look like that."

     Peter felt a wave of panic.  " What did the guy look like?

    The bartender looked pensive. " Well, he didn't look like a guy that could get a girl like that.

He was kinda on the fat side , shorter than her.  Wide with big arms.  He looked like ....kind dark,

like .....like....an A-rab or something.  Yeah, one of those greasers."

   " Did he have a beard?

   " No, I'm sure of that. He kinda needed a shave though."

     Peter felt a surge of guilt.  He should have sent her back to Pennsylvania, the minute she arrived.  He couldn't understand how the fat man was still in New York.  He was sure this was the same man, beard or not.  He trotted to the boat and shut off the motor , leaving the food and drinks on the boat.  He dug in his wallet and found Agent Yamashita's pager number and dialed it on his cellular phone and left the phone on.  He ran for the car at full speed and realized when he got   there that he had no idea of where he would drive to.  He decided he would head for the house in New Jersey that her had originally rescued Dara from.  He drove a breakneck speed going against the flow of Saturday traffic.  After fifteen minutes, he couldn't believe that Yamashita had not returned his call.  He pulled into a gas station on the Grand Central Parkway to look for other numbers.  He thought of dialing 911 but to explain all of this to the New York City Police, would take up too much time and he could not imagine an instant response.  He called FBI headquarters.

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     Fahd hurriedly shoveled anything of value he could find into his suitcase.  He would send for the bearer bonds and wire his money from the bank when he got to Brazil.  He called Varig and found a flight that suited his schedule just fine.  He would leave that fool Mustafa in the garage with the limousine and take the back stairs.  A cab would take him to Kennedy airport and he would be on his way to a new, safe life.  He chuckled to himself at his own cleverness.

     He thought of calling Sarita and telling her to meet him but was sure his line was tapped.

He might do that when he got to Brazil.  Then again, he might find a Brazilian beauty.  The person was never important to him.  Outward beauty and elegance meant everything.  They were all interchangeable.  He closed his apartment door and walked down the back stairs.  As he exited to the street, he did not see the man with the radio, standing in full view of the back door.

     " Good show Charlie, you were right.  He just came out the back door and is trying to hail a cab.  Come out and drive to First Ave. and if you don't see him, I'll radio the cab number.  If I can't catch up with you and the car, good luck."