CHAPTER 71
Paris, France
Haracat al Marrak was not surprised that the American whore had made contact following the protocol he designed. He was neither angry nor relieved. In fact, he was more amused than anything.
While it was true that his access to funds was almost unlimited, it was also true that he did not have access to an unlimited number of people. His benefactor was very generous, to be sure, but also seemed to be injecting himself more deeply into the operations than al Marrak would have liked.
The capture, torture, and execution of Senator Coleman Harrison had been a victory: The viral video was worth well more than he had paid for the entire operation.
Donations pouring in to his worldwide networks had increased tenfold.
(Believers were always more generous when they got proof that their money was advancing the cause.) This influx of cash, however, was being allocated to a single objective: the assassination of the United States President.
No other organization on the planet would dare attempt such an audacious act.
Groups in Saudi Arabia and Yemen talked a big game, but chattering like old men was all they did.
The groups in the Maghreb were no better.
They picked easy targets—low-hanging fruit—and called themselves martyrs.
But anyone could blow up a school or a bus or a church and then run away; it was hardly the will of Allah.
It didn’t bother al Marrak that he had recently changed his mind about the fate of the infidels.
Inshallah, he thought. Allah’s will. What did bother him was his reliance on the Russian.
The two sons were of no consequence, but he had to treat the elder Russian with respect.
As long as the old man was alive, nobody could replicate what the Russian’s network could do, and the plan in progress depended on his expertise.
The old man would die one day, hopefully sooner rather than later.
But until then, Haracat al Marrak would stuff his frustration deep inside and humble himself enough to make the call to Moscow.
The French ambassador’s daughter had informed al Marrak that the new administration would be in a state of transition—sworn enemies taking the place of other sworn enemies—for months.
During that time, the Americans would be the most vulnerable.
It would be the perfect time to create the most chaos and watch the supposed free world implode.
Chopping off the head of the Great Satan was the only way to show the world the spiritual degeneracy of the American pig dogs. But time was not on his side. The elections would be held in November—hardly enough time to recruit, train, and organize a cell capable of such a spectacular operation.
Al Marrak encrypted his instructions and began the process of communicating with the Americans.
Then he closed his eyes and thought about how he had planned to kill them both.
The thought of watching their eyes go wide with fear as they begged for mercy was pure ecstasy.
That day would come, but for now the whores were an asset.