silencer already attached. He looked at it, and with slightly damp eyes, aimed at his targets. One shot point blank into each boy’s head was enough. The older boy never made a sound and neither did the younger one. He then proceeded to do the hard work, and it was very hard. He took out his knife and started to sever the heads. It was not easy and it took him a lot longer than he had expected. He was wishing he had brought a larger and sharper knife. By the time he was done, he was soaked with blood, but he was wearing black clothing and it didn’t show, not that it mattered. Abbas carried the two heads in one hand by the hair and went to the other room. As he walked in, the man did not stir but the woman did and slowly started opening her eyes. He really liked the woman. She had taken care of him and pampered him. She felt sorry for him and had no idea of her husband’s involvement. Never the less, he could not let her live either. She would tell everyone, Abbas fired two shots into her head. He wanted to spare her seeing him and what was in his hand. He then slowly approached the bed and laid the heads next to the man, backed up, stood in the corner and waited.
The traitor was sound asleep but the first time he stirred, he knew something was wrong. He felt himself lying in something very sticky and wondered what it could be. He half opened his eyes and saw his son’s face looking at him.
"You should be in your own bed, son. Not enough room for all of us in here."
When the man tried to put his hand on his son’s body to move him, he came to the horrific realization that there was nothing there. His eyes opened wide, then he saw the severed head. The man leapt out of bed trying to put some distance between it and him, gasping for air, as nausea flooded through him. As he stood up, he noticed his other boy’s head. He was so horrified, he could not speak. He was frantically looking around the room when he finally saw Abbas standing there.
The man took another look at the bed and realized that his wife was also dead. He looked again at Abbas and knew.
When the traitor finally regained some of his senses, he started crying.
"Why Abbas? Why my wife and kids? They loved you."
"You should have thought of that before you decided to betray us. I saw you that day leading the Israelis towards our house. Who was it that shot my father? Was it you or the other traitor, which of my father’s friends murdered him?"
The man just stood there, silent. He knew what was coming. He knew his time was up. He took another look at his dead wife and the severed heads of his beloved sons and collapsed, all composure gone.
Abbas was never sure whether the man died of the gunshot or of a heart attack. To him it didn’t make any difference. He had to finish what he came here to do and he still had one more stop to make.
Working on the man’s head, as on his sons before, he was glad the other traitor did not have any children.
When he was done, Abbas went into the bathroom and threw up.
The mission at the next house did not take as long. He just went in, shot them both, man and wife, then severed the second man’s head.
When he was done it was still dark outside. Abbas carried the black duffel bag and hurried to the second man’s car, grabbing the keys on his way out.
He had done his homework well. Everything went according to plan. He had studied both men’s habits, knowing when they ate, when they slept, where they put things. He had watched every move they made. He wanted to make sure nothing went wrong when he did what he had to do, and nothing did.
On his drive out of the area, Abbas wondered what the people of the camp were going to think. He wondered if they would blame this on the Israelis, just like they blamed everything else on them. He was sure they would. Matter of fact, he counted on it – it was a part of his plan.
Abbas had planned his hideout. He parked the vehicle amongst the trees alongside one of the beaches, then covered it with brush and tree limbs until he was satisfied no one would notice it. It was the same beach where he had hidden that night he had eased himself out of the coffin. This time it was even safer. Then it had been spring but now it was almost winter. No one had ventured close then and he was sure no one would now. He had to wait a full day before he made his way to Beirut and on to the American Embassy the following night. He had promised the CIA agent he would contact him in a couple of days. He couldn’t help but wonder how the agent was going to react when he opened the duffel bag and saw what was inside.
Perfect, he thought to himself. They are going to be extremely glad I want to get out of here and they will help me with whatever I need.
The next night, Abbas drove to Beirut, parked the car a block away from the Embassy and waited for daylight. He made sure to keep the vehicle out of sight in case someone recognized it and informed the Palestinians. He was sure the organization would be looking for it, so he had to prevent anyone from driving away with the car and its cargo.
No one did.
"Hamilton here," Brad growled as he picked up the telephone when Abbas’ call was announced.
"Hello Mr. Hamilton. This is Abbas. Have you made a decision on what we talked about?"
"We have not heard from the Director yet Mr. Abbas, but I am sure we will soon. How can I reach you when we do?"
Abbas was not surprised at the delay. They were not sure what he could do for them. He smiled. He was sure what their answer would be the next day.
"Like I said before, Mr. Hamilton, I am on the move and you cannot contact me. I will just have to call you every day until you make a decision."
"Can I expect a call from you tomorrow then?" Hamilton asked.
"Absolutely, Mr. Hamilton. Before I go though, I have something for you."
"What is it Mr. Abbas?"
"One block east of the Embassy, there is a parked black Mercedes. It’s not locked and the keys are in the ashtray. I suggest you don’t take long before you check the trunk. The car is hot, people are looking for it and before I hang up, a word of advice, get rid of that car as soon as you retrieve the item in the trunk. You don’t want anyone to associate you or the Embassy with it."
Before Hamilton could inquire about the contents of the trunk, Abbas had hung up.
Hamilton was not sure what to expect, he was not even sure why the Director was taking his time to respond. His was not to question though; he was a very junior agent. His was to say, "Yes sir" and "no sir."
When Hamilton briefed his chief about his conversation with Abbas, the decision was made to assemble a bomb detection team and check out the car.
It was nearly an hour after the telephone conversation when the CIA team, accompanied by some Marines, emerged from the Embassy. Abbas waited and watched.
Two bomb squad team members approached the vehicle first. They had some detection equipment and went through the vehicle very thoroughly. When they could not find any trace of explosives, they gave agent Hamilton the nod.
Hamilton approached the Mercedes and opened the door cautiously, as if he were expecting it to explode. When nothing happened, he reached inside, retrieved the keys then proceeded to the trunk and opened it just as carefully.
When Hamilton started unzipping the duffel bag, several men in his team were leaning forward to get a glimpse, and when they saw what was inside, as if on cue, they all jumped back a couple of feet and several of them started throwing up. Not Hamilton though. Even though he jumped back as far as the others, he was already looking around.
He saw him. He saw Abbas but before he could give anyone any instructions, Abbas was gone.
Abbas was a little unsettled. He expected the reaction he saw but he did not expect Hamilton to immediately start looking for him. The guy is good. Abbas knew that if Hamilton were given the orders to hunt him down, he wouldn’t stand a chance. He hoped his plan would work and the director would agree to grant him his wish. He could fool the Palestinians into believing him, after all he was the son of a hero, but he knew he couldn’t fool Hamilton so easily and, with the resources