Terminal Rage by Khalifa A.M

Author:Khalifa, A.M. [Khalifa, A.M.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Mavenhill
Published: 2014-01-04T16:00:00+00:00

Nabulsi knew the van couldn’t possibly go any faster given its condition, but he wanted the Americans to fade quickly into oblivion. When the van made its first turn left, he glanced at the street sign. They were on Via Calimberti Tancredi and getting further from the helicopter and any chance the Americans would change their mind. His chest heaved in growing contentment, finally allowing the luxury of euphoria to rush through his veins.

He kept his eyes peeled on the street signs and again made a mental note when they turned on Via Labriola Antonio, not that it meant anything to him. The van continued for about three hundred feet before making another turn into a complex of mustard-colored buildings. They stopped and parked in the rear.

The man who had freed them drew off his mask and embraced Nabulsi and Madi. He looked nothing like what Nabulsi had expected. This Muslim brother was taller than six feet with cropped blond hair and green eyes. Many Lebanese or Syrian Muslims could also have that complexion, but his accent and command of Arabic suggested he was more likely a European convert. Nabulsi was proud his faith was expanding into the hinterland of the enemy, but also envious of whoever scored the ultimate virtue of converting a non-Muslim. He was free now and would dedicate the rest of his life for jihad in the name of Islam. Maybe he too would be fortunate enough to convert a few souls of his own.

Nabulsi and his partner stepped out of the van into a bright, stunning day, trailing behind their white liberator, and adhering to his instructions to follow his cues and not utter a single word.

They followed him to a street-level coffee shop with a few tables outside. He motioned for them to sit down then disappeared inside, reemerging with a tray of soft drinks and pastries. Nabulsi and Madi ate and drank in silence as the German sat quietly.

His phone began to rattle on the table, and without looking at it he got up and started marching toward a building on the opposite side of the complex. Nabulsi and Madi shadowed him diligently.

An older Italian man in a light blue shirt and dark sunglasses met them at the entrance and seemed mildly annoyed they were late. Perhaps the stop at the cafe was unscheduled.

He let them in and the four of them squeezed inside a shoe box pretending to be an elevator. In the tight space and against the backdrop of the Italian man’s unabashed perfume, Nabulsi realized for the first time how much he and his friend stunk to the high heavens. Not just the sweat incurred on the journey here, but the stench of years of neglect. A real shower with hot water would be his first order of business when they got to their final destination. Wherever that would be.

They reached the top floor and stepped out. The Italian searched through a bunch of keys until he found the correct one and let everyone into the rooftop terrace.

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