'I instructed my pilot to use the taxiways.'
'Oh… how did you know what taxiways to use?'
'Mr. Grey, there is little that my organization does not know about you. That is why I am here. You have been chosen.'
'Okay. Sounds good to me. How about a beer?'
'Just bottled water, please.'
Khalil watched Paul Grey as he retrieved a container of juice and a plastic bottle of mineral water from the refrigerator, then went to the cupboard for two glasses. Paul Grey was not tall, but he seemed to be in excellent physical condition. His skin was as brown as a Berber's, and like General Waycliff, his hair was gray, but his face was not old.
Paul Grey asked, 'Where's your pilot?'
'She is sheltering from the sun in your hangar. She asked if it was permissible to use your toilet there, and to have something to drink.'
'Sure. No problem. You got a lady pilot?'
'Yes.'
'Maybe she wants to come in and look at this demonstration. It's awesome.'
'No. As I said, we must be discreet.'
'Of course. Sorry.'
Khalil added, 'I told her I was a Greek selling you antique Greek vases.' He hefted his black bag and smiled.
Paul Grey smiled back and said, 'Good cover. I guess you could be Greek.'
'Why not?'
Grey handed Khalil a glass of mineral water.
Khalil said, 'No glass.' He explained, 'I am kosher. No offense, but I cannot use non-kosher items. Sorry.'
'Not a problem.' Grey retrieved another plastic bottle of mineral water and gave it to his guest.
Khalil took it and said, 'Also, I have a condition of my eyes and must wear these dark glasses.'
Grey held up his glass of orange juice and said, 'Welcome, Colonel Hurok.'
They touched glass to bottle and drank. Grey said, 'Well, come on in to my war room, Colonel, and we can get started.'
Khalil followed Paul Grey through the rambling house. Khalil commented, 'A very beautiful home.'
'Thank you. I was lucky enough to buy during a slight downturn in the market-I only had to pay twice what it was worth.' Grey laughed.
They entered a large room, and Paul Grey slid the pocket door closed behind them. 'No one will disturb us.'
'There is someone in the house?'
'Only the cleaning lady. She won't bother us in here.'
Khalil looked around the large room, which seemed to be a combination of a sitting room and an office. Everything appeared to be expensive-the plush carpet, the wood furniture, the electronics against the far wall. He saw four computer screens, with keyboards and other controls, in front of each screen.
Paul Grey said, 'Let me take that bag for you.'
Khalil said, 'I'll put this down with my water.'
Paul Grey indicated a low coffee table, on which was a newspaper. Grey and Khalil put their drinks down on the table, and Khalil placed his bag on the floor, then said, 'Do you mind if I look around the room?'
'Not at all.'
Khalil moved to a wall on which hung photographs and paintings of many different aircraft, including a realistic painting of an F-lll fighter jet, which Khalil studied.
Paul Grey said, 'I had that done from a photograph. I flew F-llls for a lot of years.'
'Yes, I know that.'
Paul Grey didn't reply.
Khalil studied a wall that displayed many citations, letters of commendation, and a framed, glass-enclosed case in which nine military medals were mounted.
Grey said, 'I received many of those medals for my part in the Gulf War. But I guess you know that, too.'
'Yes. And my government appreciates your service on our behalf.'
Khalil walked to a shelf unit that held books and plastic models of various aircraft. Paul Grey came up beside him and took a book off the shelf. 'Here-you'll appreciate this one. It was written by General Gideon Shaudar. He signed it for me.'
Khalil took the book, which had a fighter aircraft on the cover, and saw that it was in Hebrew.
Paul Grey said, 'Look at the inscription.'
Asad Khalil opened the book to the back, which, as he knew, was the beginning of the book in Hebrew as it was in Arabic, and saw that the inscription was in English, but there were also Hebrew characters, which he could not read.
Paul Grey said, 'Finally, someone who can translate the Hebrew for me.'
Asad Khalil stared at the Hebrew writing and said, 'It is actually an Arabic proverb, which we Israelis are also fond of-'He who is the enemy of my enemy is my friend.'' Khalil handed the book back to Grey and remarked, 'Very appropriate.'
Paul Grey shelved the book and said, 'Let's sit a minute before we start.' He motioned Khalil to an upholstered chair beside the coffee table. Khalil sat and Paul Grey sat opposite him.
Paul Grey sipped on his orange juice. Khalil drank from his bottle of water. Grey said, 'Please understand, Colonel, that the software demonstration I'm going to show you could be considered classified material. But as I understand it, I can show it to a representative of a friendly government. But when it comes to the question of purchasing it, then we have to get clearance.'
'I understand that. My people are already working on that.' He added, 'I appreciate the security. We would not want this software to fall into the hands of… let's say, our mutual enemies.' He smiled.
Paul Grey returned the smile and said, 'If you mean certain Mideastern nations, I doubt they'd be able to put this to any practical use. To be honest with you, Colonel, those people don't have the brains they were born with.'
Khalil smiled again and said, 'Never underestimate an enemy.'
'I try not to, but if you'd been in my cockpit in the Gulf, you'd think you were flying against a bunch of crop dusters.' He added, 'That doesn't bring much credit on me, but I'm talking to a pro, so I'll be honest.'
Khalil replied, 'As my colleagues told you, though I am the embassy air attache officer, I'm afraid I have no combat experience in attack aircraft. My area of expertise is training and operations, so I cannot regale you with any heroic war stories.'
Grey nodded.
Khalil regarded his host for a moment. He could have killed him the minute he opened the kitchen door, or any time since then, but the killing would be almost meaningless without some pleasant trifling. Malik had said to him, • 'All members of the cat family toy with their captured prey before killing them. Take your time. Savor the moment. It will not come again.'
Khalil nodded toward the newspaper on the coffee table and said, 'You've read what has been revealed about Flight One-Seven-Five?'
Grey glanced down at the newspaper. 'Yes… some heads are going to roll over that. I mean, how the hell did those Libyan clowns pull that off? A bomb on board is one thing-but gas? And then the guy escapes and kills a bunch of Federal agents. I see the hand of Moammar Gadhafi in this.'
'Yes? Perhaps. It's unfortunate that the bomb you dropped on his residence at Al Azziziyah didn't kill him.'
Paul Grey did not reply for a few seconds, then said, 'I had no part in that mission, Colonel, and if your intelligence service thinks I did, they're wrong.'
Asad Khalil waved his hand in a placating gesture. 'No, no, Captain-I did not mean you, personally. I meant the American Air Force.'
