Scorpion Strike by Nance John J

Author:Nance, John J. [Nance, John J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Adventure, Mystery, thriller
ISBN: 9780449222218
Amazon: 0449222217
Goodreads: 875101
Publisher: Fawcett
Published: 1992-05-05T07:00:00+00:00

Ansallah watched with emotionless curiosity as the stranger parked the familiar green van. Somehow it made sense that someone from the lab would come to rescue them. The fact that no one back there could have known about the broken wheel was immaterial and lost immediately in the shock of recognition as the face of his superior suddenly approached.

“Shakir? Is that you?” Ansallah scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide, the military guardsman doing the same beside him out of caution. “We thought you were dead!”

Shakir greeted Ansallah in a traditional embrace, then nodded to the guardsman, a Neanderthal he knew well from the lab. The man had the mind of a doorknob, which made him all the more lethal. Shakir was well aware of the pistol the soldier had pulled out, and was relieved when he saw the man stuff it back into his holster as they sat down cross-legged in the sand next to the crippled van. The traffic on the highway was sparse, the occasional passage of a truck or car making the setting even more desolate.

“We have no tea to offer, nor much of anything else,” Ansallah began. “We were going to rest awhile, then try to flag down a military vehicle, but now that you’re here …” He let his voice trail off, waiting for confirmation from Shakir that they were rescued. Shakir merely nodded, acutely aware of Ansallah’s cold, suspicious stare.

“Mahmed, I have been on a very important, very secret mission for the government.”

Ansallah looked at him without changing expression.

Shakir averted his eyes and continued.

“I know you and the others thought I had been killed. That was a purposeful deception.”

“Where were you?” Ansallah asked with his typical, non-Arabic impatience.

“The nature of my mission and the locations involved are still state secrets I am not allowed to discuss. I would naturally like to, but …”

“Shakir, forgive my directness, but I am very familiar with how you felt about our last order to deliver the virus. You say we must never do this, then you disappear, and a burned body is found that is supposed to be you.”

“And,” Shakir broke in, throwing caution to the winds, “you assumed I had defected to the enemy.”

Ansallah began to protest, but Shakir held up a hand. “Sandar told me this. He told me you were not convinced I was dead. Well, you were right, I was not dead. But you were wrong in thinking I was a traitor to Saddam. This is still my country.”

“Why the trickery, then? Whom were you trying to fool? Our government thought you were dead, and Baghdad was frantic. Only you knew the formula. We searched your notes night and day and could find no clue, and you had refused to tell us.”

“I have been your director for how long, Mahmed?”

Too long, old man, Ansallah thought, keeping his face impassive. Shakir was only twenty years older, but that seemed an eternity. He took a deep breath and answered Shakir at last.

“Two years.”

“Two years. That’s right.

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