CHAPTER 39

The hotel room they had set up shop in was not up to the standards or opulence of the ones previously arranged by Mohammed. There was no air-conditioning, and the dismal brown drapes that covered the windows were faded and dull. The carpet was a lighter shade of brown that, judging from the multiple cigarette burns, had seen at least ten years of tenure in the rundown adobe-style building. The scent of stale cigarette smoke permeated the room. The oversized windows, when open, provided the local fly population a place to nest.

Middle-Eastern lodging had a reputation for first class accommodations. Second string structures were never advertised and left for the locals. This room was definitely a local’s spot, thought Lucien. The receipt of any further funds was now in question, tenuous at best. Lucien felt the need to conserve; to immediately begin his new plan. And he had to stay close so that he could communicate directly with Mohammed.

Despite the swelling heat outside, Lucien had the windows closed and locked. Perspiration stains marked his dirty shirt and the smell of his unwashed body permeated the room. Sweat plastered his comb-over against an exposed scalp. Security, Lucien understood, was now of the utmost importance. He made sure the window and door locks were sturdy and secure. The scientist burned the original copy of Claudia’s treatise and now carried the Committee’s version with him, everywhere he went. It was the sole copy. Bits and pieces were encrypted on the computers they had taken, but the “big picture” had remained only as hard copy. On their first day in the hotel room, a local security company had delivered a top-of-the-line safe to secure their documents.

In the center of the two-bedroom suite was a conference table with separate piles of documents that covered every square inch. Surrounding the table were the computers and documents Lucien and his men had taken from the laboratory at gunpoint.

Lucien looked concerned as he stood over the table and perused the textbook in front of him. He penciled a note on a legal pad and dog-eared a page in the book. Excited about what he found, he ran over to one of several open computers and typed in a note. Standing to his side and watching him was Hamid. He had just come from town and walked into the room. Directly behind the table was the safe, with the door open, exposing a pile of documents and computer hard drives.

Lucien had the treatise out next to the computer, and tapped on it with his pencil.

“I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” said Lucien, carrying the treatise to the conference table.

“And why is that, Sir?” said Hamid.

“While you were out, I managed to reach Mohammed by telephone. He is happy with the progress I have made with the late Miss Einstein’s treatise, and the analysis I have done on the computer files and papers we obtained from the Committee laboratory.”

Lucien strutted around the table, confident as he carried Claudia’s work. “Mohammed says that we can now continue with our research and development, and he is working on getting us a proper laboratory set up.”

Lucien paused. “Of course, there will have to be adjustments in the financial arrangements we originally agreed to, but –”

“I think you are correct, Sir. …I too was contacted by Mohammed,” said Hamid.

Lucien was surprised. “And?”

“Sayyid indicated that you have been working very hard,” he glanced around the room, “In a less than ideal setting.”

“Yes,” said Lucien. “That is true. I have been here, working without rest. But then we know we have disappointed him.”

“Sayyid indicated you were to be rewarded for your efforts in turning this matter around. He has made arrangements of ah, social nature… entertainment; for your pleasure, Sir.”

“Really?” Lucien moved a section of wet hair over his skull, and patted it into place, knowing what the word “entertainment” meant.

“That should be quite interesting. …Did he say when?”

“I think now would be appropriate, Sir. It was part of the instructions I received from Sayyid while I was gone.”

A wide grin exploded across Lucien’s face. “Let’s go then, shall we?” He still carried the treatise, and pointed with it. “Get the car and I’ll meet you outside.”

“Yes, Sir.” Hamid headed for the door.

Lucien walked over to the safe and gestured.

“I’ll lock the treatise in the safe.”

Hamid nodded and left the room.

Lucien waited for a moment, and walked to the window. He pulled the drape aside, assuring himself that Hamid had reached the street. Confident that he was alone, Lucien closed the door to the safe and locked it.

“Not that I don’t trust my Arab friends, but I think it’s nice to have some insurance.”

He slipped the treatise into the small of his back and headed for the door. As he reached for the handle, he noticed a bag of chocolates on a table. He put the bag in his pocket and grinned.

“A few of these might work nicely.”

Hamid drove Lucien through the city to a place Lucien immediately recognized. He stopped the car. Hamid assigned a young Arab boy the task of watching the car. As he stepped out, Lucien remembered the rundown street scene. It was the place where he had wanted to stop the first time they had been taken to see Mohammed.

Hamid led the way and, unlike their initial passage through the dingy street, the vendors respectfully nodded to Hamid as he passed them by, knowing his affiliation with Mohammed. The large man returned the gesture with a curt bow. They traveled through several side passageways until they came to the area where Lucien had first spotted the group of prostitutes.

“This is the area where I have been directed to take you, Sir.”

Lucien was anxious. “Uh, yes, yes, fine.”

Hamid turned down an alley and Lucien followed, to a small adobe house at the end of the path. Outside the entrance a number of prostitutes, their eyes adorned with heavy makeup, stood and waved at them. The big woman that Lucien had taken to his hotel room appeared and waved. She gestured for Lucien to follow him into the house.

Hamid led Lucien into the house, and left.

The prostitute took Lucien by the hand and pulled him along.

“Yes, hello,” said Lucien, smiling.

The crowd of prostitutes laughed as they surrounded Lucien.

The big prostitute kept smiling as she pulled Lucien into a side bedroom where the only furniture on the dirt floor was a mattress, covered by several sheets and a pillow. The woman released Lucien’s hand and pointed at the bed. She picked up a small whip, flipped her wrist, causing it to snap. Lucien climbed onto the mattress, but first removed the treatise from the small of his back and placed it on the floor next to the bed.

The woman joined Lucien on the mattress, playfully putting her arms around Lucien’s neck, and tapping him with the whip. The rest of the women, now topless, surrounded the mattress and several of them climbed next to a smiling Lucien.

One of them picked up the pillow and began hitting another woman with it. They were all laughing. Lucien felt like he was in a dream.

“So what kind of games would you like to play?” Lucien reached inside his pocket and pulled out the bag of chocolates. “I have some chocolates I brought from the hotel. Would you –”

The large woman slipped the whip around Lucien’s neck and pulled. Lucien’s face turned red. His hands frantically reached for the leather. Another woman pulled out a thin dagger and stabbed Lucien in the neck. The scientist screamed in horror as he was pulled backward. He struggled with the whip and tried to block the flow of blood that spurted from his carotid artery. The prostitute released the whip as the other women stabbed the wounded physicist in the back and ribs multiple times.

The unarmed prostitutes pummeled him with rocks.

“NOOO! PLEASE! NO! HELP! Arrrgghhh!”

Lucien made a last lunge across the bloodied mattress, a desperate attempt to reach the door, but he could not move, burdened by the weight of the maniacal women who continued their assault.

“HAMID!”

Lucien’s screams could be heard throughout the neighborhood, but they were ignored. People went about their business, and no one notified the authorities - not that it would do any good.

Hamid heard the screams. He tilted his head and listened, clearly enjoying the final squeals of the dying scientist. When there was quiet, the large man reached into his pocket and dialed the cell phone Mohammed had given him. It was answered on the first ring.

“Sayyid? …It is done.”

Hamid folded the phone with a slight grin. He walked back to his car, tipping the young Arab boy, and drove away.

***

Back in the bloody house, all the prostitutes had fled. A ten-year-old boy from a nearby neighborhood, curious about the source of the screams, stuck his head through the front door. Nervous, he waited for someone to chase him away. No one did, and he entered the building. The boy wanted to see what all the fuss was about. So he scanned the front room, looking for anything of value. With no one in the house, his bravery grew. He tip-toed through and entered the bedroom. Accustomed to seeing dead bodies in the armed conflicts between neighboring tribes, the boy stared for a moment at the bloodied American lying face down on the mattress. He noticed the pile of silver wrapped chocolates that had been left untouched, next to the body. He sat down on the side of the mattress, careful not to get any blood on him and gleefully devoured the heap of chocolate treats.

As he carefully unwrapped the last candy, the boy noticed a bound document lying on the floor next to the mattress. He finished the candy and reached over, flipping the document cover. Unable to read, the ten-year-old did not understand what the bound document was for. He tore out a page and rubbed the thin, almost tissue-like paper stock against his face. It was softer than what he was used to, so he tore off the cardboard covers and took the rest of the valuable treatise with him.

The boy carried the papers to the back of his house, and separated the pulp from the binding. He placed it next to a dwindling stack of newspaper adjacent to a hole in the ground. He was proud of what he had accomplished and compared his pile to the newspaper he had just replenished.

After a few minutes, he felt the first rumble in his stomach, followed by a sharp pain, possibly a result of his devouring the bag of chocolates, something he did not often see in his normally bland diet.

He tested the paper, and was the first member of his family to use it in their outdoor latrine.