Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (125 page)

A vice clutched Najib's heart and seemed to tear it from his
chest. 'And my parents? My grandparents?'

'They are safe and well.'

'Praise be to Allah,' Najib said fervently. His brows knit
together. 'Are they in camps also?'

'No. Your father is brave and fights by my side, and your
mother and grandparents live in a small house outside Beirut.'

Najib looked angrily at Abdullah. 'Why did not somebody
write and tell me of this?'

Abdullah's eyes were hard and cruel. 'Better that you
should see for yourself what the Jews have done to us,' he said
harshly. 'This way you shall never be tempted to become weak
and forget.'

'I will never forget!' Najib's eyes glittered feverishly. 'I will
not rest until their blood drips from my knife or their flesh is
torn to shreds by the bullet of my gun!' He saw Abdullah's
mocking smile, and his anger and purpose grew to dizzying
proportions. His lean, handsome face took on a rapacious
intensity. 'You have always been a leader, Abdullah. For as long as I can remember, you fought against the British and
the Jews.'

Adbullah did not speak.

The anger burst inside of Najib and the words came out in
a rush: 'I wish to join the men you lead! I wish to train in your
camp and fight in your army—'

Abdullah's arms blurred with the speed of light and he
grabbed hold of Najib, his eyes shining with a kind of maniacal inner fire. 'What have you heard?' he demanded, shaking him.
'Tell me! What is this about a camp of mine?'

Najib was suddenly stricken with fear. 'I . . . I heard
nothing! But I remember—'

'Memories are best forgotten.' Abdullah let go of him and turned around, his black robes swaying about him, and he
stared at the distant mountains.

'Please, let me join you!' Najib begged. 'You will have
reason to be proud of me!'

When Abdullah turned around, his mouth was twisted in a
smile. 'Are you certain you have the stomach for it, my young
falcon?'

'I have.'

'And what of peace?' Abdullah said with a cynical laugh.
'Have not the blood and the thinking of your weak grandfather
tainted your veins?'

'My blood is not weak!' Najib's face was set and he no longer
felt any fear. 'Will you accept me within your group, or must
I seek vengeance on my own? Is everything I have heard about
you the creation of storytellers?'

Without warning Abdullah's hand slashed through the air
and his open palm cracked against Najib's cheek with such force that Najib staggered backward. His hand flew up to his
face, where a handprint shone whitely. He looked at Abdullah
with surprise.

'That is a warning,' Abdullah said softly. 'Speak that way
to me again and you will regret it for as long as you live.'

'You have not yet answered me,' Najib said stubbornly.
'Will you accept me into your group?'

Abdullah stared at him and then nodded.

'When?' Najib pressed eagerly.

'When you receive word. Until then, you do nothing. Is that
understood?'

And with that, Abdullah's black robes billowed and he
strode off in the direction from which he had come.

He had turned so quickly that Najib had not seen the look of triumph glowing in his normally bleak eyes.

A week passed before Abdullah arranged for Najib to be
taken to his hidden camp. It was in a small valley in the moun
tains of Syria, and everywhere Najib looked there was evid
ence that this was some kind of military training facility. The
men were all heavily armed; he could see a distant watch tower
and hear the gunfire from a firing range. Small tents had been
pitched, and smoke rising from a campfire smelled of roasting
lamb.

Abdullah no longer wore his black robes, and was dressed in green fatigues and combat boots, but on his head he wore
the traditional Arab headgear. He stayed outside his tent and
waited for Najib to come up to him.

Najib walked proud and locked eyes with him. 'I have
come,' he said simply, wondering if his half-uncle could hear
his heart pounding. 'I am ready to swear my oath.'

Abdullah stared at him and then raised his hand in a signal.
Immediately a small crowd of men pressed around them both.
'My half-nephew, Najib al-Ameer, has asked to join our Palestinian Freedom Army,' he announced to them all. 'He wishes
to become your brother. If any of you have reason to doubt
his intentions, now is the time to speak your piece.'

There were murmurs and Najib felt two dozen hard,
appraising sets of eyes on him. A few of the men he recognized
from the oasis, but most were strangers.

Abdullah placed his hands on Najib's shoulders. 'I have
your word, then? You will obey all orders I give you, whether
you like them or not and whether you agree with them or not?
You will accept each of these men and others who join us as
your true and only brothers?'

'By Allah I swear.'

'I advise you to think well before you swear, half-nephew,'
Abdullah said softly. 'If you are treasonous, or we so much as suspect you of being unfaithful to us, death will come not only
to you and your immediate family but also to all generations
thereof. Your entire bloodline will cease. Do you under
stand?'

Najib drew a deep breath, astonished at the harshness of
the threat. He took a deep breath and nodded. 'I understand,'
he said tightly.

'Then let it be done. These men will be witness.' Abdullah slid his knife from its scabbard. 'Hold out your hand.'

Najib held out his right hand. He did not make a sound
as the knife flashed and its blade slid softly into his flesh.
Immediately he could see his warm blood spurting forth in a
thick spray.

Without hesitation, Abdullah then held up his own wrist. Najib saw that it was heavily crisscrossed with thick raised scars from a multitude of other such oaths. Then Abdullah
sliced it open, his bleak eyes dancing with an unholy joy as he held Najib's gaze. 'Do you swear, by almighty Allah, to
champion the Cause of the Palestinian Freedom Army, to accept me as your absolute leader, and count each one of my
men as your true brothers, till the moment after your death?'

Najib held himself proudly. 'I swear so by Allah,' he whis
pered, his eyes aglow.

Abdullah rubbed his wrist against Najib's, kissed him on
both cheeks, and drew back. 'Our blood is merged!' he announced for all to hear. 'Now we are truly brothers.'

Najib glanced down at his blood-smeared wrist and then
looked around at the other men. He felt the swelling of pride
come up within him. He was one of them. He would fight at
their side. Now he could at last avenge the death of Iffat and
seek vengeance for the ruination of al-Najaf. He turned back
to Adbullah. 'I thirst for blood.'

Abdullah shook his head. 'You will wait until permission is
granted,' he told him impassively. With another gesture he
dismissed the other men, and they went about their business.
He looked at Najib. 'Come, let us walk while I give you your
first orders.'

Najib fell into step beside him.

'You will spend two weeks in training here,' Abdullah told
him, 'during which time you will be forged into a man and
learn to be a soldier. Then, at the end of the summer, you
shall leave again, this time for America.'

'No!' Najib grasped Abdullah's arm. 'I must stay to avenge
the dishonour brought upon us! I must fight!'

Abdullah's voice left no room for argument. 'You will do
as you are told!' he said coldly. 'Mere minutes ago I warned you of the punishment for treason! Do you have such a death
wish that you wish to die already?'

Najib was silent.

'You need to complete your education,' Abdullah said
briskly. 'You will attend a fine university. Harvard.'

Najib stared at him. 'Harvard!'

'It is one of the finest schools in America. Now, I want you
to listen carefully. Most of our men are . . . impressionable. Uneducated. They tend to see only the short-term gain: the
next skirmish, an attack on a schoolyard, a few sniper shots at
a kibbutz, the bombing of a synagogue.' Abdullah made an irritated gesture. 'They are fools! They do not realize that we
are in for a lifelong battle, and that it can only be won on the
economic battlefield.' He slid a sideways glance at Najib.

Despite himself, Najib's interest was aroused. 'Go on,' he
said slowly.

'My plan is twofold,' explained Abdullah, the quiet in his
voice belying his own excitement. 'The short-term part of it
will be the constant harassment of this so-called nation which
calls itself Israel. That will appease our people's immediate
bloodthirsty need for revenge, and it should also keep the Jews
from getting too comfortable—a little tension now and then,
and they will constantly have to look over their shoulders.'

Najib took a deep breath. 'And the long-term part of it?'

'The long-term plan.' Abdullah nodded. 'It is far more
important and complicated, and I have been planning it for
many years now. That is why I diverted funds donated for
the procurement of weapons and used them to finance your
education at Eton instead.'

'
You!'
Najib stared at him.
'You
paid for Eton?'

Abdullah nodded.

'But I thought my grandfather—'

'With what?' Abdullah's mouth became a sneer. 'You know
Naemuddin has no money.'

Najib found himself nodding. He realized that he should have known. But even in his wildest dreams he had never suspected that Abdullah had any plans in store for him.
Especially since he had hardly ever given him the time of day.

'But how does my education fit into your plans?' Najib
asked, curious.