The guards took her out of the truck and into the bright sunlight to parade her slowly around the edge of the crowd. Gasps of recognition trailed them. That looks like Stefi! It is her! Men began to jeer and spit, and women could not stop staring. Word spread rapidly and the crowd started to build. Stefi was to be flogged! The television crews could not believe their good fortune.
Ebara adjusted the sleeve of his robe and brushed back the edge of his red kaffiyeh while the guards made the little whore ready. The shift covering her backside was unbuttoned to the waist and she was thrust forward hard across the chair, with her buttocks and thighs and those famous legs totally exposed. The crowd of men cheered as the guards clamped tightly onto her wrists to hold her in place.
“Please! Don’t do this! Please!” Stefi screamed, twisting her partially nude body in fear. The cameras would prove to the world that Mohammed Abu Ebara was unafraid to carry out his divine duty. By beating this guilty woman, he would give pause to anyone who opposed him during these troubled times. They, too, might face his stern vengeance.
Ebara walked around his victim, loudly reciting surahs from the Koran to endorse the punishment, while swishing the long bamboo cane aloft. Cheers from the gawkers increased. Only the initial fifty lashes would come today, and he would personally administer the first five. Then the girl would be sent back to her cell to recover. When she was healthy again, fifty more lashes would be administered. It would take a very long time to reach a thousand and this devil child would never perform her debauchery again.
The sacred female parts that he would now desecrate in the name of Allah were exposed. Ebara brought the cane high overhead and crashed it down with all his might across her thighs, bringing a loud, piercing scream from the young woman as the pain ripped through her. The scream and the new scar on her naked flesh infused Ebara with a strange, personal, sexual excitement, and he laid the next stroke on even harder, but with great care, crossing it over the first. Then he furiously flailed away to finish his few lashes. Long red welts and trails of blood oozed from ruptured flesh as his reward. The scars would last a lifetime.
He handed the cane to the big guard who would conclude the day’s punishment. As he turned away, his gaze moved to the two Europeans. The crowd was berserk in excitement, but the banker was looking down, working his BlackBerry, a strange hand-held electronic device, with rapt attention. Juba, with his arms crossed, yawned.
EBARA MET THEM IN a cool room in a nearby mosque, beads of sweat still dappling his shaggy hair and beard but the hard dark eyes reflecting a sense of triumph. They remained silent while a servant brought a tray of tea, figs, and goat cheese, then withdrew to leave the three alone.
Juba had removed his hat. He took a sip of tea and then checked the large watch on his wrist before staring with his single eye at the renegade Saudi cleric. “Exactly four minutes ago, a series of explosive devices began blowing up in Dammam, an important city and the center of commerce in the entire Eastern Province. As you know, Dammam is right on the Persian Gulf and is an important oil, gas, and transportation center. Only an hour’s drive on the causeway out of Dammam, and you can be in Bahrain, so the detonations will indicate to everyone that this rebellion in Saudi Arabia is threatening to spill over to other countries.”
Ebara tried to interrupt, but Juba held up his palm, flat, to stop any response. He coolly continued, “That attack was part of my overall plan, a very careful scheme that has been two years in the making. Now that plan might not work, because I am not directly controlling it from my headquarters. You, Mohammed Abu Ebara, are not the only important person involved in this, but you are the only one who is screwing it up.”
Ebara was watching Juba as a predator wolf stares down a lamb. Who was this infidel to speak to him in such an insulting manner? The guards were right outside and he could have Juba arrested and taken to prison and executed in private. A seething anger was building inside him, but he kept his voice soft. “We now have nuclear weapons that must be considered.”
Then Dieter Nesch spoke for the first time, in a normal tone, telling Ebara, “Our sponsor is nervous about this disruption of the schedule and is concerned that you have taken your eyes from the goal of toppling the monarchy,” he said. Nesch held up both his cell phone and BlackBerry for the cleric to see. “I sent a message and pictures of your performance today to the Russian. He is not happy, not at all. He instructed me to say that if you are this unsteady and confuse what is really important with a minor situation, perhaps you may not be the man for the massive task that lies ahead.”
That jolted Ebara. The only sign to betray his sudden nervousness was a quickened bobbing of the Adam’s apple in his gaunt neck.
Juba said, “You ordered me to drop everything and come here to meet with you personally! So I had to put many attacks on hold, because the fighters will remain idle until they receive my personal authorization codes to carry out their assignments. Since I am not there to issue those orders, the attacks will not happen. So I am here in your presence, as you wished, but I hope that you understand that by choosing to emphasize the nuclear weapons, you may have stopped the revolution in its tracks. Not the royal family, not the army…you!”
Mohammed Abu Ebara would not tolerate being spoken to in such an insulting manner, but Juba leapt to his feet, flushed with fury. “I flew halfway around the globe to see about these nukes, weapons that could instigate a holocaust, only to be kept waiting in the sun while you whipped a helpless child! Your priorities are strange, preacher. The whipping was stupid, totally unneeded, a work of lust by a perverted old preacher who has probably never fucked a willing woman. We are trying to win over Muslim support in other countries and you decide to publicly humiliate and flog the most famous pop music star in the Arab world. Your actions today will cost us the support of an untold number of young people. Maybe millions.”
Ebara shot a glance back, but did nothing. His confidence was cracking under Juba’s onslaught. This man had once been the deadly tool of some of the greatest men of the age, including Osama bin Laden. There was no pity, generosity, or politeness about him. Nothing there at all but a pure killer. The banker was equally uninterested in Muslim protocol. Neither offered him a dram of respect. Ebara felt a jab of fear. “The girl is a disease and must be eradicated,” he said, feeling that he must say something in his own defense. “We must teach women to stay in their place.”
“You will release her immediately,” Dieter Nesch said quietly, grimly resting his pale blue eyes on Ebara. “That is not a suggestion, Haj Mohammed. You will appear gracious by suspending the rest of the sentence and kicking her out of the country. The damage this has done to our cause has been incredible and now your personal show of brutality will be spread all over the Internet. You will appear as a madman and a fool to the rest of the world. I cannot believe you were so stupid.”
Ebara stared back. “I could kill you both for talking to me like that.”
“No. You couldn’t,” Juba snarled. “Try. I will snap your neck right now and we will get some other stooge to finish this rebellion.”
Nesch sucked in some breath, making a tut-tut sound. “Now, I know I will sound like a banker, but can we please complete our real business? I must send a report.”
“Yeah. Let’s do that.” Juba said, putting his hands on his hips and leaning forward toward Ebara. He screamed, “WHERE ARE MY FUCKING NUCLEAR MISSILES?”
37
AL’S GARAGE, SAUDI ARABIA
EVEN WITH HIS DARK sunglasses and the tinted windows of the Land Rover, Kyle could barely look into the morning sun, which was still a dull orange balloon rising over the amazingly flat airfield. A dot coming out of the glare grew larger, a plane that was headed straight into the base.