Twenty-Eight
Marrakech, Morocco
Tuesday 4:00 a.m.
He slipped out of the back entrance of the Desert Sands Hotel and disappeared into the darkness. And, although he didn’t move far away, he looked back only once, and with a self-satisfied smile. He had been in the hotel for a little over twenty minutes. It had all been too easy. He had come in through the unlocked fire exit where security cameras hadn’t been installed. He didn’t glance at the man at the front desk, for he knew that he had also been paid both for his assistance and his silence.
Neither of them would be here for the outcome. They only knew their parts, nothing more. He waited for the one other player in this game. She arrived exactly thirty minutes later, on schedule, as was her habit. Despite her initial reluctance, a doubling of the original sum was all that was required.
He glanced at his watch. It was five o’clock. He had ten hours before the second act.
He vanished into the narrow and twisted corridors of the Medina, where he had lived the majority of his life and where the plan had incubated. It was here where he would wait for his finale and then others would take charge. He was only a pawn in a much bigger game.
The signs of a new day merged into late morning and then followed into early afternoon. It wasn’t until the day drifted close to midafternoon that the man from the Medina returned. And then he waited. There was no need to enter the hotel. Everything he needed would be brought to him, as planned.
* * *
THE FIRST SIGN of trouble went unnoticed by anyone in the lobby of the Desert Sands Hotel. The day began like any other, full of promise for business and tourists alike. The hotel was abuzz with the imminent arrival of a busload of tourists that would soon mesh with the energy of the guests already there. Times were changing and new ideas were being implemented. The hotel was under new ownership and so far, the change had been flawless. Everything was going as beautifully as the clear September day that held such promise for those eager to explore the city. Marrakech was full of places to discover, secrets waiting to be found. The city had an exotic history that was steeped in the depths of the Medina. There, the hustle and bustle in the souks, the numerous and varied shops with the merchants peddling their wares, added excitement and mystery, as had been the tradition for centuries. It was the place tourists came to spend good money and be part of that rich history. It was a special place, an exciting place. For most, it was very different from what they were familiar with. For others, it was a place of business—a place where commerce was at the center. For there was money here as well as history. There were other things, too, like poverty and crime, that lurked in the narrow alleys where he waited.
Now, near the heart of all that, the low ticking of an explosive device went unheard. It had been placed close to where the luggage rack was customarily parked. It hid in the far corner of the lobby, buried beneath the chatter of the guests and the stream of voices that kept the hotel running without a hiccup. The deadly, monotonous beat was too quiet to be heard or seen...yet.
Marrakech, Morocco
Tuesday 3:15 p.m.
At the Desert Sands Hotel registration desk, Sara Elliott laid her passport on the counter. She then set her two-year-old son beside it so that she could keep an eye on him while completing the hotel registration. It had been a long flight and they were both exhausted. Despite the fact that it was midafternoon, she was looking forward to getting a snack and then getting her son bathed, and both of them having a nap. Traveling over an ocean and between continents with a two-year-old was no picnic. Only her son had managed to sleep on the long flight from Maine to Marrakech. For her, there had been no pleasure in it, but rather, only an endurance test in a flight borne out of desperation.
She had her arm around her son’s waist, for a hand on his leg wasn’t enough. Everett was a busy little boy. He didn’t like to sit still for any length of time and now was no different, as within seconds he was reaching for the registration pen. Then he poked the edge of the registration clerk’s computer while endearing himself to the older couple beside her who were checking in, as well.
After a minute of that, his bottom lip began to quiver as he lost interest. She guessed that he was realizing that despite devouring two cookies on the ride between the hotel and the airport, he was hungry. She dug in her purse for his soother. He was too old for such a thing. That was what the latest parenting book she had read indicated, but they hadn’t mentioned another option for situations such as these. The soother was immediately grabbed up in her son’s chubby hand and popped into his mouth. Her nerves settled slightly. Now she had a few minutes of peace. Time to get them registered and settled in their room.
She closed her purse, using one hand to steady her son as she juggled the diaper bag that was over one shoulder, along with her carry-on bag and purse. She fisted the hotel pen in an attempt not to drop it when what sounded like outrageously loud fireworks went off behind her.
She jumped and dropped her purse onto the counter. The hand holding her son remained, instinctively, protectively, there. Someone screamed and a man shouted. The registration clerk jumped back, shock in his dark eyes. Smoke immediately began to fill the room and it was unclear what had happened.
She pulled her son off the counter, holding him tight against her side, his legs dangling. She turned to see what was going on, and one of the three bags she carried caught on the thin wooden panel that acted as a counter divider. Her carry-on twisted and wrapped around her arm, locking her in position. Smoke was billowing from the corner of the lobby, where the suitcase trolley was, and a small fire was licking at a couple of the bags. The smoke only added to the confusion because minutes earlier, the lobby had been flooded with an influx of tourists that had just gotten off a tour bus.
There was chaos in the haze, as people began to run for the exit. They pushed through the crowded area where others stood, stunned. She could see that the window that faced the parking lot had been blown out. A bomb, she thought with shock, and then realized that it was an outrageous idea.
It was seconds before the reality of what had just happened seemed to hit her full-force. They needed to get out of here. Who knew what might follow. There could be another explosion, a larger fire. The situation was unpredictable and dangerous. She’d wasted precious seconds. Her son was in her arms, but her important documents were in the bag caught on the counter. She wasn’t frightened enough to leave the bag behind, at least not yet. For without their passports and travel documents...she couldn’t think of it. But she also couldn’t hold her son any longer and continue to juggle her bags. She put Everett back down on the counter. His hands immediately went over his ears as he sniffled, but didn’t start crying.
A woman jostled Sara and when the fire alarm began to bleat it was somehow unexpected and she let out a small involuntary scream. Everett immediately followed her example, as he always did, his soother now clutched in his chubby fist.
Darn it, she thought. But she couldn’t