The John Corey Collection by Nelson Demille

Author:Nelson Demille [Demille, Nelson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thrillers, Retail, Suspense, Fiction
ISBN: 9781455544783
Google: JQnSStoyhEYC
Amazon: B009YMIMQE
Barnesnoble: B009YMIMQE
Publisher: Hachette Digital, Inc.
Published: 2012-10-16T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 37

On Monday morning at 6:00 A.M., Asad Khalil answered the ringing telephone and a voice said, “Good morning.”

Khalil started to reply, but the voice continued without pause, and Khalil realized it was a recorded message. The voice said, “This is your six A.M. wake-up call. Today’s temperature will get into the high seventies, clear skies, chance of a passing shower late in the day. Have a nice day, and thank you for choosing Sheraton.”

Khalil hung up the phone and the words Yob vas came into his mind. He got out of bed, and carried the two Glocks into the bathroom. He shaved, brushed his teeth, used the toilet and showered, then touched up the gray, and combed his hair with a part, using the wall-mounted hair dryer.

As in Europe, he reflected, there were many luxuries in America, many recorded voices, soft mattresses, hot water at the turn of a faucet tap, and rooms without insects or rodents. A civilization such as this could not produce good infantrymen, he thought, which was why the Americans had reinvented warfare. Push-button war. Laser-guided bombs and missiles. Cowardly warfare, such as they had visited on his country.

The man he was going to see today, Paul Grey, was an old practitioner of cowardly bombing, and now had become an expert in this game of remote-control killing, and had become a rich merchant of death. Soon, he would be a dead merchant of death.

Khalil went into the bedroom, prostrated himself on the floor facing Mecca, and said his morning prayers. When he had completed the required prayers, he prayed, “May God give me the life of Paul Grey this day, and the life of William Satherwaite tomorrow. May God speed me on my journey and bless this Jihad with victory.”

He rose and dressed himself in his bulletproof vest, clean shirt and underwear, and gray suit.

Khalil opened the Jacksonville telephone directory to the section he had been told to look under—AIRCRAFT CHARTER, RENTAL & LEASING SERVICES. He copied several telephone numbers on a piece of notepaper and put it in his pocket.

Under his door was an envelope, which contained his bill, and a slip of paper informing him that his newspaper was outside his door. He peered through the peephole, saw no one, and unbolted and opened his door. On the doormat was a newspaper, and he retrieved it, then closed and rebolted his door.

Khalil stood by the light of the desk lamp and stared at the first page. There, staring back at him, were two color photographs of himself—a full-face view and a profile. The caption read: Wanted—Asad Khalil, Libyan, age approximately 30, height six feet, speaks English, Arabic, some French, Italian, and German. Armed and dangerous.

Khalil took the newspaper to the bathroom mirror and held it up to the left of his face. He put his bifocals on and peered through the clear tops of the lenses. His eyes shifted back and forth between the photographs and his own face. He made several facial

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