The Identity Thief (25 page)

"Hopefully not a martyr anytime soon," X joked.

His host laughed. "Agreed."

Then, more solemnly X went on. "How can I enjoy luxuries when my brothers are oppressed by the Americans, the Zionists and their lapdogs?"

Harry stood up. "Speaking of luxuries, I think I'll take advantage of the modern plumbing."

Slinging the knapsack bearing his laptop over his shoulder, he slipped out of the room.

They continued talking about politics for a moment, Fawad railing about the latest outrages of the Israelis in what he called "occupied Palestine."

After enduring the tirade for a few moments, X excused himself, quietly beckoning Traci to follow him.

X reached the little building that housed the toilet, looked around to make sure no villagers were watching, then grabbed the door and wrenched it open. Harry sat on the john, his trousers around his ankles and his laptop on his knees. He looked up in shock at X.

"What is wrong with you?" he demanded, falling into English. "Can't you see I'm taking a dump?"

X grabbed his feet and dragged him off the commode.

"What the fuck?! Are you insane?" Harry shouted.

When he saw Traci standing there, he tried to cover his privates with one hand, while clutching the laptop with the other. "Can't a man have some privacy when he surfs for porn?"

X yanked the laptop from him. "Nice try, Harry, but you're not a hard enough man to pull that one off."

He handed the laptop to Traci and pointed to an outgoing email. She couldn't make out the words, which appeared to be in code, but the names of the villages they'd passed through were there, along with a map.

"He's been updating them on our location every step of the way," X said triumphantly.

Traci stood back and stared, stunned, at Harry, who was hastily pulling up his pants.

"Christ," she gasped. "He's a triple agent."

"That's ridiculous!" Harry sputtered. "A triple agent? Why not a quadruple agent - that would make me back on your side, wouldn't it? Honestly, you're being paranoid."

"Paranoid?" Traci shot back. "There's an agency so secret the President doesn't even know about it, and we're working for it - at least
I'm
working for it. So paranoid makes a whole lot of sense right now."

"I've had enough of this," Harry said. He reached for the laptop and tried to touch the power button.

"Touch that computer and I'll put a bullet through your brain," Traci said, pulling her Beretta and pointing at him. "Keep your hands where I can see them."

"For God's sake, woman, they could come around that corner any minute," Harry said, holding out his hands palm up and to his sides. "Stop pointing that thing at me." He added, "I know an FBI agent isn't going to shoot me in the head."

She lowered the gun.

"A bullet in your testicles, then."

"Let me see the screen," said X. She passed him the laptop.

"All that superpatriotic B.S.," Traci muttered, shaking her head in disbelief.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, doing his best to look bewildered.

X began to laugh, till tears ran down his cheeks.

"Let us all in on the joke," Traci said, her weapon pointing unwaveringly at Harry.

"Those are Hebrew words," X said. "Holy smokes, you're Mossad."

"That's nonsense. Now I insist -" Harry began.

Traci cut him off. "You're in no position to insist on anything."

"This is crazy," Harry whined. "When Mr. Jones hears about -"

"Oh, knock it off, you're busted," X said. "Do you want us to be at this all night?"

Harry sighed. "Yes, of course I'm Israeli intelligence."

"Well,
shalom,
" said X, bowing.

Traci returned her weapon to her holster, flashing a generous helping of brown thigh in the process.

"Jones said you were recruited by the CIA in high school," she said, shaking her head in bewilderment.

"I'm second generation," Harry explained. "Israel recruited my parents in college. They changed their background from Jewish to Lebanese Christian back in the '70s."

Traci was dumbfounded. "I knew the Russians did that kind of thing, but the Israelis?"

"I knew something wasn't kosher about this guy," said X. "So to speak."

"What's your mission?" Traci demanded.

"Simply to observe and report."

"I vote we plug him now," X said.

"This isn't a democracy," Traci snapped.

"Can we talk alone?" Harry said to Traci. "Without this idiot? He can't be trusted."

"Oh, you're funny," Traci said, bitterly. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't waste you right now?"

"I'll give you two. Number one, you need me to complete the mission - unless you're a computer expert, which isn't in your file."

It irked Traci that he'd been given access to her 203 file, while she hadn't been allowed to see his.

"Number two, we're allies. Israel and the U.S. have a special friendship that dates back more than 50 years."

"With friends like these ..." X muttered.

"Last time I checked, espionage was still a capital offense," said Traci.

But Harry, emboldened, put down his hands. "This is getting boring," he said smugly. "Either shoot me or let me file my report."

"How about neither of the above," Traci shot back. "We go forward with the mission, and when it's complete, and we're back in Washington,
then
Uncle Sam will decide if you get to report back to your boss in Tel Aviv - or go to prison."

"Yeah, maybe you'll end up sharing a cell with Jackson Pollock," X added, crossing his arms.

"That's Jonathan Pollard, moron." Harry said. "Jackson Pollock is the artist."

"Right ... well both of you are drips," X said, the best comeback he could muster.

"Fine, I accept the terms of the agreement. May I have my laptop back, please?"

"It's not an agreement, it's an order," Traci said. She gestured to X. "And he'll hold onto the laptop until I say so."

X took the laptop. "And be sure to wash your hands, Harry," he said. X and Traci turned to go - and received an unpleasant surprise when they bumped into Asar coming around the corner.

How much did he hear?
X wondered.

"You can't fool me any longer. I know exactly what's going on," Asar announced.

Harry tensed. Out of the corner of his eye, X could see him positioning himself for an attack. He remembered how swiftly the Israeli agent had snapped that bandit's neck. The thought of that happening to Asar dismayed him.

Traci was already reaching for her holster. X stepped between them and the teen.

"Oh, really," the identity thief said, his voice betraying nothing but amusement. "And what is that, my friend?"

"The two of you have been quarreling over the woman."

The two men traded glances, then in unison nodded sheepishly.

The youth lectured them. "I know it is natural for us to be attracted to one who is so beautiful and brave and virtuous as this," he said. "But we cannot let emotions harm our cause. "Recall the proverb, 'Love makes a man both blind and deaf.' "

Harry's body relaxed.

X ruffled Asar's hair yet again. "Don't worry about the two of us," he said. "We have no intention of killing one another - yet. They say sometimes even the intestine and the stomach disagree."

* * *

Lying on her tummy on Copacabana Beach in Rio de Janiero, flaunting her slimmed down tush in a thong, Samantha Adamson was updating her Facebook page. Not hers, exactly, but a creation of hers named Cassandra. Unlike Samantha, Cassandra had always been slim and sexy and had been a cheerleader in high school as well as homecoming queen. She worked as a consultant and had a pet dog.

Sam was almost broke now, having burned through the $100,000 in cash she managed to flee the apartment with. Trying to access the nest egg in the Caymans with all this federal heat would be foolhardy. But she was content. She had found a kid who was handy with electronics to make a gadget to attach to gas station card readers and ATMs for "skimming." When a user swiped their debit or credit card, her own reader would snatch banking information off the magnetic strip. It was a ruse she and her former partner had been using just before the Ali Nazeer fiasco.

One of X's brainstorms was to extend the concept to the airport kiosks you use for getting boarding passes. She was hoping to try the idea out at Rio's main airport. Technically, it would present little problem. The thing was working up the nerve to plant the scanner in an area teeming with cameras and airport police. In theory, it would be easy to appear to fumble with her credit card at the kiosk to cover the placement, but in practice it would be tricky. It would be a few months before all the details were worked out and money would start rolling in.

Yet her heart was content, thanks to her Brazilian boyfriend - her "Aztec Prince" as she gushed to her Facebook friends (off by a few thousand miles, but love has poor geography). Santiago was not only a better lover than her ex, he treated her like a queen - even before she lost weight he told her she was beautiful.

When the "Dear Honey Hips" email arrived, Sam was stunned to see who it was from. Incensed, in a way, that he had reentered her world. She knew the writer's true name - or rather, thought that she did - but in her mind now he was simply The Soulless Black Hole. Bad memories from what she dubbed her "old fat days" when she, frankly, hated herself came rushing back.

But when she saw how much money he was offering for a "little favor," as he but it, her green eyes brightened and felt a familiar sensation between her legs, as hot as the Brazilian sand.

She looked out at the ocean as Santiago emerged from the sea, a bare-chested Adonis. He flashed his gleaming teeth and she smiled back.

The next morning, Harry and X saddled the donkeys in Fawad's barn. Traci was over at the well, filling a water bucket for the animals, while Asar chatted with Fawad nearby. The pair embraced, then Asar strolled over to them, an odd smile on his face that X found disconcerting.

"Asar, come help us pack the donkeys," said Harry, who seemed not to notice the boy's creepy expression. "We need food and water for the rest of our journey."

Asar shook his head. "There will be no need for that."

X and Harry exchanged glances, perplexed.

Was he saying this was the end of the road? Had all that stuff about thinking his companions were caught up in a love triangle been a clever ruse? Does this mean he's blown the whistle on us to Fawad and we're all about to get shot?

"What do you mean, we do not need food or water?" X asked. "Is The Chief's stronghold that close?"

Asar gave a mischievous grin.

"The end of your journey is closer than you would ever imagine, boss. Come, follow me. Bring only your weapons and the computer."

The men slid their rifles off the donkeys. X loaded the knapsack bearing the laptop onto his back.

"Walk this way," Asar instructed them.

"What about the woman?" Harry asked.

"Women are forbidden," Asar told them.

When they reached the well, the teen explained that to Traci.

Traci frowned and told them, "My assignment was to escort you safely to the headquarters."

"Then your mission is at an end," Asar assured her. "I will never forget your courage."

"We will part company then," said Traci. "I will return to Afghanistan and report to my superiors."

She bowed to Harry and then to X. It seemed that something more was called for. A hug, at the least. But X gave Traci only a salute.

"I will tell The Chief how well you have served the Cause," he said.

Traci turned and headed back to Fawad's house. X watched her go, suddenly filled with an ill-defined yearning. The plan called for them to separate, but he had become accustomed to having her around. As much as he hated to admit it, he would miss her.

The men followed Asar to the small mosque at the center of the village. Along the way, they passed villagers rolling carts full of grain; a one-legged old man hobbling with a cane. The peasants nodded in greeting.

Their path took them by squealing children playing Aqaab, a version of tag where "It" was an eagle and the others pigeons he preyed upon. X was no believer in omens, but to his discomfort, he could not help thinking that in the parlance of old-school con artists, a "pigeon" was a mark who was easily fooled. Were the two of them being duped and about to be pounced upon?

"Are we going to pray?" Harry asked. But X had an inkling about what they'd meet behind the mosque doors.

Inside the modest temple, candles were lit and the walls were full of religious markings, swirling wheels within wheels. There were no paintings of Allah or Mohammed. Islam forbids such images as idolatry; that much X knew about the religion. There was no one else around but a prayer rug lay in place as if any minute a devout Muslim was about to kneel toward Mecca and pray. X and Harry looked around, mystified.