CHAPTER 11

The dusty cab creaked and groaned as it pulled under the overhang leading into the hotel entrance. A bright metal aluminum and stainless steel roof covered the entire front entrance to the building, a structure that looked like an alien spacecraft that had landed in the remote desert setting. And it was in the center of the desert. On the outskirts of an oil rich kingdom neighboring the Saudi peninsula, the hotel stood in the middle of nowhere. The iridescent-chrome light fixtures that fronted the garish hotel entrance illuminated an adjacent village, a dirt floor assemblage of adobe huts inhabited by camel herders and shepherds in a town founded by their ancestors centuries earlier. It was rumored the design of the building came from a wealthy cousin of the ruling Sheik, a British trained architect who plagiarized the design while on holiday at the Trump Casino in Atlantic City.

The cab driver smiled as they pulled in front of the hotel. The night had been slow for him and, Allah knew, he had a house full of children and his in-laws to feed. He was happy to have this fare, even though he would have to split it with his cousin, who in turn would have to pay a reduced cut to the man who controlled the bell cap desk inside.

The cab, a familiar sight in the dusty streets of the surrounding desert village, stood in sharp contrast to the Mercedes and Rolls Royce limousines that lined the hotel entrance. The driver glanced into the rearview mirror at his passenger. He was a large man, very serious. The suit and tie masked a very dangerous man, thought the driver; not unlike many he had known in these parts. But with danger came money and that meant his passenger had cash, as people in tailored suits often did.

They also tipped well.

The large man noticed the driver looking at him in the rearview mirror. The driver smiled and nervously nodded his head in response when he spotted his fare glaring at him.

The driver maneuvered around several of the limos, pulled into the entrance lane and screeched his cab to an abrupt halt. Dressed in tattered desert clothing, he jumped out of the vehicle and raced the impeccably uniformed doorman to his passenger’s door. The driver won, and held the door open with a bow.

“Praise Allah,” the driver prayed silently. Money would be forthcoming from this giant.

Adjusting the fit of the impeccable suit and tie demanded by his employer, Hamid stepped out and stretched, his size dwarfing the skinny cabby. Reaching into his pocket, he paid the man, adding a few riyals for his speedy delivery. Time was of the essence and Hamid was on a mission. The cab driver bowed several times and reminded his passenger that his cousin, the hotel bellman, would have the cab ready for him at a moment’s notice. Curtly nodding his head, Hamid headed for the hotel lobby. Before entering he stopped, as though he were looking for someone, and carefully scanned the curbside area for anything out of place. Satisfied that it was safe to proceed, he slipped past the vehicles and entered the hotel.

The doorman greeted him with a deferential bow to which Hamid brusquely responded. He passed the front desk and entered into a vast expanse of plush carpet and ornate furniture. Centered above the lobby floor were twenty-foot-high crystal-glass chandeliers. Despite the late hour, the first floor of the hotel was filled to capacity with European and Middle Eastern visitors, headed for the hotel casino. Most were tourists. Some, like Hamid, were in the country on business. Men and woman in jackets bearing the hotel logo circulated through the crowd, taking food and drink orders.

Hamid again stopped, turning his head slowly to scan the crowd. Nothing seemed out of place. Seeing no familiar faces and convinced it was safe to proceed, he continued on through the lobby, walking to a bank of elevators. He pushed the elevator button, turning to face the crowd as he waited for the door to open.

The hotel was Lucien’s choice. He had insisted on this particular hotel so they could be nearby their benefactor. Lucien had wanted to be close to Mohammed’s office to coordinate the movement of Claudia Kohl when she was captured. Hamid also recognized his physicist-employer had chosen the hotel for other than scientific reasons. Lucien’s depraved tastes were not lost on his employee. The job paid well, but Hamid was not excited about the prospect of surprising Dr. Gray at the hotel, at this hour. But bad news traveled fast. And he was there to deliver. Hamid understood that the consequences of their failure could be fatal - for the both of them.

The ornate elevator doors, brazed copper etched with the logo of the royal family opened, and a crowd of tourists rushed into the lobby. Hamid stepped aside, allowing them to pass, waiting to enter the elevator alone. Once inside, he kept his eyes on the lobby crowd, waiting as the doors slowly closed across his watchful gaze. He pushed the twelfth floor button. A floral smell permeated the enclosed space as soft music emanated from hidden speakers. When the elevator stopped at the twelfth floor, a recorded Arabic voice announced its arrival and the doors opened.

Hamid entered the hallway. Floral carpet and pastel walls lined the passageway. Expensive flower-filled ceramic vases stood unfastened on wood pedestals, their security assured in a country where the authorities punished the occasional thief by removing his hand with a sharp saif, the curved Arabic sword. Hamid continued past the numbered suites until he located Lucien’s room. He stopped at the door, took a deep breath and knocked. It took several taps before he heard movement on the other side of the door. By the sounds Hamid could tell there was more than one person in the suite. He double checked the number to make sure he was at the right room and knocked again.

A voice came from behind the closed door. “Yes?”

“Professor Gray? It is I, Hamid.”

The door cracked slightly, and Hamid could see Lucien’s head pop out. Appearing as if he were in the middle of an aerobic workout, the scientist’s flushed-red face glistened with sweat. His hair, an oily brown comb-over, was plastered to his head. Lucien was shirtless and Hamid glared at his flaccid torso. The large man could not tell if his employer had any clothes on. Uneasy, Hamid wished his boss would have taken the time to dress himself before answering the door.

“I thought I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed,” said Lucien.

Hamid nodded respectfully before he spoke. “I understand, Sir. But this is very important. …We must speak.”

The door opened a few inches further as Lucien struggled to adjust a device of some sort that was fixed around his waist. Hamid could see the full length of the room. Seated upright on the bed was the large prostitute they encountered earlier that day. Her naked breasts sagged over several mounds of stomach. Black stockings, stretched to the limit, secured bulging folds of leg flesh. Sifting through a bowl of wrapped chocolate candies, the woman ignored Hamid.

Lucien noticed Hamid’s fix on the woman and pulled the door close to block his employee’s view.

“Wait,” he said and shut the door.

A moment later Lucien stepped into the hallway. Dressed in a hotel bathrobe, he pulled the door closed behind him.

Hamid’s eyes widened, drawn to the stretched-tight-black woman’s hose that were visible from the bottom of Lucien’s robe. Narrow black leather leggings wrapped around the panty hose, beginning at the ankles and continuing upward. Hamid cringed when he noticed the leather was connected to a thick cylindrical device that pressed against his employer’s waist and was partially concealed by the robe.

“This had better be good,” said Lucien, his voice a snarl.

“They failed,” said Hamid.

The color drained from Lucien’s face.

“What? How is that possible?”

“They had her. They were ready to transport her and they were ambushed.”

“Ambushed?” said Lucien. “By whom?”

Hamid hesitated before he decided to embellish his version of the failed kidnapping.

“A paramilitary group protected her, Sir. They were professionals. …There was a gun battle.”

“You had better not tell me that the girl was injured.”

“I can assure you that she wasn’t. Actually, from what I have been told, she was quite resourceful.”

“Wonderful,” said Lucien. “Save your commentary for your next employer, if there is one.” Lucien stared into space, a nervous look, his mind racing, shocked by the disastrous turn of events.

“What shall we do, Sir?”

Lucien’s eyes wandered in the direction of the closed hotel room door. He unconsciously smacked his lips as he pondered his options.

“I need time,” said Lucien, his eyes fixed on the door. He pressed his hands against his bathrobe and shifted the leather device around his waist. “Uh, give me an hour or so… to get dressed and think. We can meet in the lobby.”

Hamid nodded. “As you wish.”

Lucien opened the door with his key. While the door was ajar, Hamid caught another glimpse of the naked prostitute who looked his way and smiled. In her right hand was a small black whip; in her left, a single piece of chocolate. She swallowed the chocolate, snapped the whip and winked at him.

Lucien crossed between them, blocking Hamid’s view and slammed the door shut.

Hamid cringed and headed for the lobby