|
|
|
In the blue rental truck on the way to Baku, Abdula’s men were laughing and congratulating him as he counted the money in the briefcase a second time.
“When I get back to Syria, I’m going to buy a new car,” the first man said.
“And I’m going to party for a solid week,” the second said, “How about you Abdula?”
“When I get back home, I’m going to look for a bigger house with a bigger swimming pool, and I may even look for another wife.
Abdula’s men laughed heartily, but Abdula was serious. Hell, he thought to himself, he worked hard for this money, traveling through unfamiliar and dangerous country with a truckload of deadly cargo. Poor Mustaf took a bullet by some vile CIA thug on the docks of Batumi, it could have been him that go killed. No, this was not the job for the faint of heart, it was hard and dangerous work for which one must reward one’s self appropriately at the end of the day.
Amira, Abdula’s wife of twenty years, had been nagging on him a lot lately. Sure, she was an attractive woman and still had her figure, but Abdula wasn’t getting any younger. For some time now, he had his eye on some of the younger women in the Damascus area, and with his upper-class wealth and increasing income, there shouldn’t be much of a problem procuring a younger wife to fit his needs.
If Amira left him, especially in light of what happened to Mustaf, so be it, it would probably be for the best anyway. Their youngest child was in college, and other then when they needed money, none of his children really have use for him anymore. Maybe that was the reason he needed a younger woman. Amira was long finished with child rearing, and Abdula still felt young and virile, and felt like he needed more children to expand his legacy.
Family was very important to Abdula, when the last weapon was sold, and the last dollar earned, all that one had left was the love and admiration of one’s family.
In the other terrorist truck, Max Landau questioned Tariq Amin, “I can’t believe that you gave that scoundrel more money, and you’re actually going to pay him more on top of that?”
“Relax, I’ve no intention of paying Abdula a cent more, his greedy fate awaits him in Baku. Our men are back from Iran and they’re hiding in wait for us to arrive, they have been instructed to slay our unholy brothers as soon as the cargo is unloaded.”
“Let Allah be praised,” Landau said as he breath a sigh of relief.
“Is there any word from Tafar?” Amin asked him.
“No,” Landau replied, “Either he was captured with the others or worse, Ella has not heard from him yet either.”
“Tafar is a good soldier, he could take care of himself, and we certainly don’t have to worry about him divulging any information about our operation,” Amin said.
 |  |  |
|
|
|