|
|
|
Abdula Nassir sat up in his car seat when he saw the tenants starting to vacate the apartment building, and cursed to himself when he realized that the immediate deaths from the explosion would be minimal. As the police started to move people away from the apartment building Abdula’s hopes rose when he saw that more people were gathering to see what was happening on this normally quiet Monday night. ‘That’s right,’ he thought to himself, the more people the better to get a full dose of the deadly powder that will be spewing out of that building in a few minutes. As he started up his car, he didn’t see the familiar woman standing among the people not very far away from him on the square.
Ella Mamedov heard all of the commotion from her room on the fourth floor of the Hotel Iveria and came down to the street see what was going on. The few people that she talked to were speculating that it was either a fire or gas leak. She sat down on a public bench to see what was happening. Tomorrow morning, she was going to go to the U.S. Embassy and see what she could find out about the CIA agent that killed Tafar and destroyed their camp. Before she left Ismailly, she made a fairly good sketch of Henry Carr’s face that she got from the surveillance video at the checkpoint building. She would tell the people in the embassy that she found something that the person on the sketch had lost. If he was unfortunate enough to be in the embassy to meet with her, there was little doubt that Ella could drive the poisoned tip pen she kept in her purse right into the man’s neck. She looked up at the moon and her eyes filled with tears as she thought of Tafar, their dreams were now dead, and soon the CIA agent that killed him will be too.
She thought about checking on the two fools that were digging under the cathedral, but she was no longer concerned with them. She wanted nothing to do with them or the stupid plan anyway. But on the other hand, should she escape after killing the CIA agent, she will seek out Tafar’s uncle and send the old fool to his death. Maybe on the other side, the greedy old bastard could be a servant to Tafar and help make up for ending his life so early. With the possibility that she might be killed at the Embassy tomorrow, maybe she would tell the two diggers to send a share of the profits, if there are any, to her family in Ismailly. Of course, she will threaten them to within an inch of their lives to make sure that they kept their word.
Across town, Vano beeped the van’s horn on the street outside of Zurab’s apartment. Zurab soon ran out of the apartment clutching his lunch pail and coat as he locked the apartment door behind him. As he walked toward the van he yelled, “What the hells the matter with you, you crazy bastard.”
He got in the van and was still yelling after he slammed the door, “I told you not to beep the damn horn out here, the landlady will throw my ass out on the street. And if I get thrown out, I’ll smash every damn window in your apartment house and make sure that you get thrown out too.”
“Calm down,” Vano said laughing, “You won’t be living here much longer anyway.”
“Where the hell do you think I’ll be living?”
“I was looking on the Internet today, and I saw a nice beach house in Batumi that we could buy. With our new money, we could buy the beach house and live on the rest of the money for a very long time before we have to think about going back to work. And if Tafar’s right, maybe he and the old man will need our help again and pay us even more,” Vano said as he patted Zurab on the shoulder.
“You can’t spend what you don’t have,” Zurab said, “I don’t want to hear any more of your foolish ideas until the cash is in my hand.”
 |  |  |
|
|
|