He had been right. In spite of the odds he had been right!
Escape. He had to escape with this young killer in a holy cause.
The Icarus Agenda
Chapter 7
Kendrick stared at the Palestinian as if, indeed, the eyes held the meaning of a man's soul, although Evan's own eyes were too swollen to betray anything other than overwhelming physical pain… The remaining taps are in the flushing mechanisms of the toilets: Dr Amal Faisal, contact to the sultan.
'I was sent here to tell you that among your people in the embassy there are traitors.'
'Traitors?' The terrorist remained motionless in his crouching position in front of Evan; beyond a slight frown there was no reaction whatsoever. 'That's impossible,' he said after several moments of intensely studying 'Amal Bahrudi's' face.
'I'm afraid it's not,' contradicted Kendrick. 'I saw the proof.'
'Consisting of what?'
Evan suddenly winced, grabbing his wounded shoulder, his hand instantly covered with blood. 'If you won't stop this bleeding, I will!' He started to push himself up against the stone wall.
'Stay put!' commanded the young killer.
'Why? Why should I? How do I know you're not part of the treason—making money out of our work?'
'Money…? What money?'
'You won't know that until I know you have the right to be told.' Again Evan pressed himself against the wall, his hands on the floor, trying to rise. 'You talk like a man but you're a boy.'
'I grew up quickly,' said the terrorist, shoving his strange prisoner down again. 'Most of us have over here.'
'Grow up now. My bleeding to death will tell neither of us anything.' Kendrick ripped the blood-soaked shirt away from his shoulder. 'It's filthy,' he said, nodding at the wound. 'It's filled with dirt and slime, thanks to your animal friends.'
'They're not animals and they're not friends. They are my brothers.'
'Write poetry in your own time, mine's too valuable. Is there any water in here—clean water?'
'The toilets,' answered the Palestinian. 'There's a sink on the right.'
'Help me up.'
'No. What proof? Who were you sent to find?'
'Fool!' exploded Evan. 'All right. Where is Nassir? Everyone asks, Where is Nassir?'
'Dead,' replied the young man, his expression without comment.
'What?'
'A marine guard jumped him, took his weapon and shot him. The marine was killed instantly.'
'Nothing was said—'
'What could be said that was productive?' countered the terrorist. 'Make a martyr out of a single American guard? Show one of our own to have been overcome? We don't parade weakness.'
'Nassir?' asked Kendrick, hearing a rueful note in the young killer's voice. 'Nassir was weak?'
'He was a theoretician and not suited to this work.'
'A theoretician?' Evan arched his brows. 'Our student is an analyst?'
