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From: high school sweetheart <H.S.Sweetheart@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Long Fall to Forever - Prologue by Rachael Ross (M/F, Rom, Violence, Caution)
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Date: Fri, 05 Oct 2007 01:10:01 -0400
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Note the first chapters of this were posted long ago and I never got
around to posting this, so I'm doing it now just because I want to.
It's my Official Halloween Story for 2007. Thanks RS for hooking me
up...Lotsa love peeeeps :) ...rache This work is copyrighted and
protected by a twelve foot monkey god named Kotonomodo and he'll fuck
you up if you steal my story and show it to someone I don't like.
Thanks.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Long Fall to Forever
by Rachael Ross

Prologue


"After the war is over..." Ahmed sighed.

"What?" I was kneeling behind him as he sat on the edge of the bed, my
hard nipples pressed against his back, my chin on his shoulder and
hands smoothing his muscular chest and stomach.

We were in a safe house in Israel, up two flights of dark stairs with
the windows open. The heat was oppressive and the little fan next to
the bed rattled incessantly. It was just after sunset and we'd
finished our evening prayers, he and I and his two bodyguards going to
the roof and facing towards Mecca on our prayer rugs. It was a small
risk in that city, which had a large enough Moslem population that
none of the Jews who might see us would wonder. But it was still a
risk and I was happier to be closeted in our bedroom.

"I will never use one of these again." Ahmed turned his head to smile
at me and his thin beard scratched my cheek.

"You don't have to use it now." I kissed his ear.

He was opening a condom and I paused him long enough for a kiss,
opening my mouth for his tongue and holding the Syrian tightly. Ahmed
was a handsome man, imaginative and smart and easy to love. I moved my
right hand lower to find his uncircumcised penis, swollen and ready
for me. We'd been lovers for less than a month, although we'd known
each other for almost four now.

It had taken me some time to persuade him that I was sincere in my
faith, both to Allah and himself.

"Temptress." Ahmed smiled.

"You'll marry me after the war." I squeezed his cock gently and bit at
his ear. "You've promised me ten children."

"Ten sons." He breathed. "Daughters do not count."

"Let me suck it for you first." I was sliding down, turning myself so
that I could lie on my side curled around him, bringing my mouth to
his cock as he held me.

"You could give lessons to a Lebanese whore, I think." Ahmed pulled my
long black hair from my eyes, leaning back as he enjoyed watching me
take his dark prick between my red lips.

"Is that what you were doing in Lebanon?" I giggled, licking my lips
and peeling his foreskin back to reveal the pinkish glans. "Breaking
your vows?"

"Never." He chuckled.

"Never again, you mean." I offered him an impish smile and then
slipped his cock once more into my mouth, working my tongue around the
head lightly.

"Ohhhh..." He sighed and stroked my hair and then my back, sliding his
hand down to my ass, fingering me gently between my firm round cheeks.

I worked my lips up and down the shaft in a tightly stretched O of
pleasure, massaging his balls with my fingers, rolling them tenderly
as I worked to take him as deeply as I could. He wasn't so large
anyway, but firm, like Damascus steel, and that was nice for me. I
liked his strength, just as I enjoyed his fervor. It was obvious and
predictable and useful in so many ways.

"Elle, please, let me inside you..." He was panting and we were both
growing damp with sweat in the sultry Jerusalem air.

His finger played across my asshole and down, to the budding flower of
my tropical sex, and he was playing just his fingertip between my
labia, all swollen and dewy now with desire for him. I was moving my
hips, just a little, enough to let Ahmed know I wanted penetration. I
wanted something inside me and soon, to stretch my loins and make me
feel as a woman should.

"Mmmm...Yes, my love..." I moaned softly, pulling my mouth off and
swallowing his precum mixed with my own saliva. "...Take me...."

I was pushing Ahmed to lie down completely and I straddled him,
spreading my long pale legs over his dusky hips. It was why he loved
me, why he found me so attractive, because I was pale and exotic and
American. It excited him to be with me, a product of the country he
hated so much and there was some symbolism to fucking me, doubtlessly.
Terrorists were obsessive in their philosophy, even the religious
ones, and so often blind to it.

He'd forgotten his condom as it slipped from his fingers and I wasn't
going to remind him. I loved it bareback. I loved the risk and the
sensation and the freedom from responsibility. I wanted to feel the
man inside me and when Ahmed was ready I wanted to feel his orgasm
within my own, for I was very close already and this wasn't going to
take long.

I kissed Ahmed hard, pressing my tongue into his mouth and tasting
those French cigarettes he liked, and the black Russian tea they
served downstairs after evening prayers. It was a hot bitter kiss and
he groaned into it as I gripped his cock in my hand, guiding him to
enter my ready cunt. I lowered myself quickly and felt the trembling
walls of my sex being molded to that warm intrusion. It was good like
that, so good, and I took all of him, grinding myself down on the last
inch of his cock to be sure I had all of him firmly inside.

Ahmed's hands went to my ass, squeezing and pulling at me, lifting me
up and then dragging me back down to meet his thrust. It was too hot
to kiss, the air was too thick and heavy, it was crushing us and I
fought for every breath I could muster. My pussy was pulled taut and
empty, clinging to that beautiful cock as it withdrew to the tip, and
then I'd gasp and yelp and giggle with mad delight when the man pulled
us together violently. His cockhead reaching for my womb, looking for
the bottom of my sex and occasionally finding it. I'd shudder then
with the pleasure of pain, like our sex had a heartbeat of its own,
random and unpredictable.

It was a great fuck, one of the best we'd shared, and I was cumming
first; Ahmed was so attentive and Arab men were always my favorite
lovers, I thought. I was melting onto his strong chest, rubbing my
full breasts against him, teasing my nipples through his damp chest
hair while I kissed at his jaw and cheeks and mouth, whispering my
endless devotion and begging him to fill me with his seed.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"These are your targets." I was using a wooden pointer, such as a high
school teacher might have in her classroom, pressing the rubber tip
against an enlarged map of the city.

We were in a safe house, in the cellars of an old textile factory just
off Ramallah Road in Atarot. I was dressed in white robes, traditional
for an Arab woman, with my head covered and my face behind a veil of
cotton gauze. Beneath that I wore only a khaki chalwar, or loose
skirt, a cream colored t-shirt, and fashionable leather sandals.

Ahmed was leaning against the basement wall, with his two men. He was
Hamas, from Palestine and only here to observe. This was my operation
and these were my boys, my three noble virgins with their pure hearts
and beautiful faith, recruited from the university where I taught.
They wore djellaba, pristine white and loose around their frail
bodies. Beneath those robes they might have worn ordinary clothes, but
they did not. They wore simple undergarments, hand woven and made
especially for them, like their kaftans, by the widows and daughters
and mothers of martyrs. Soon they would be wearing western clothes and
ten kilograms of Semtex Plastique as well.

"Nir..." I looked at one of them and pointed to a circle of red. "The
movie house. You will purchase a ticket and go inside. Do not loiter
or sit down. Do not shout or give any warning to the enemy, but praise
Allah and let the infidels tremble at His name."

"Of course." He agreed.

"You will be the first and so you must be an example to your
brothers." I stared at him and he nodded, understanding I was only
saying what was necessary.

"There will be faithful in the theater, it can't be helped." I paused,
looking at the boys. "They will find Paradise for Allah is merciful.
This is not a sin."

Jerusalem, with its large Moslem population was not the best target
for indiscriminate bombing. It was the third site in holy precedence.
The ancient city had enjoyed a certain measure of security for that
reason, but not always, and not this time. My boys had to understand
and accept that, just as Ahmed did. It would lend our attack an even
greater effectiveness.

"Ibra, you must be here, at this kiosk..." I pointed to another circle.
"After Nir, the Jews will set up a double cordon here...and here. They
will respond quickly to this, do not be surprised. You must be inside
their perimeter."

"Yes." He nodded and we'd covered this before, but not specifically.
This was the first they knew of their targets.

"Likewise you need to be at the bus station, here, Omar." I pointed at
the last circle. "You will be inside their perimeter."

"I understand." The boy replied.

"Twenty minutes after Nir destroys the theater, you two will do your
duty. Your primary targets are the triage stations. The Jews will set
them up at these intersections. Their emergency personnel will be
there, the scene commander, the army liaison, the doctors. We are
attacking their crises response organizations. This is how we will
hurt them..."

It was a simple briefing and quick. The boys were smart and they
needed to know only where to be and what time to be there. I'd found
them at American University in Beirut, where I was visiting as a guest
professor of clinical psychology. They were starved for direction and
with the help of an Imam who was well known to me, I'd turned those
three innocent angels into my personal guided bombs. That I'd needed
to inform and even seek approval of Harakat al-Muqawama al-Islamiyya
was very much in keeping with my ultimate goal, and having a man like
Ahmed assigned to be my watcher had been very fortunate.

The Imam would pray with the boys now and they would bathe one last
time, compose their final thoughts and prayers for their families and
friends they'd leave behind. They would be dead before the night was
over, hopefully taking a large number of their hated enemy with them.
Allah would reward their sacrifice with a place in Paradise and
virgins to keep them company through the long eternity to follow.
Their infidel victims would serve them as slaves.

The bombs were already prepared and no one but me knew where they'd
come from. The cell was a very small one and within twelve hours it
would cease to exist. The Imam and his two nephews, who were serving
as cooks and attendants were already accounted for and someone else's
responsibility. My job was largely finished and it would be a relief
once it was over completely.

"I would like to remain with you." Ahmed spoke to me once we were
alone, or as much as we could be. Ahmed's two bodyguards rarely left
him and they were near the stairwell.

"That's impossible. " I shook my head, removing my veil. My modesty
had been only for the boys who were understandably sensitive to their
purity of both spirit and flesh.

"I'm not known to the Israelis, it will be fine." He wasn't smiling.
"It will be better than fine, you will be less suspicious if you are
not alone."

"You'll expose yourself needlessly." I said, removing my robes
completely now. "I guaranteed your safety."

"Then how better to keep me from harm, hmmm?" He took me by the
shoulders so I would look into his eyes. "This is not a suggestion."

"Only you." I glanced at his men. "We'll be inside the perimeter."

"As you say." He smiled then.

It wasn't really necessary for me to be there, in fact it was somewhat
foolish in the greater scheme of things, but I'd explained it easily
enough. The explosives were meant to be set off by the bombers
themselves, but unknown to the boys they were also keyed to a cellular
telephone. I could set one of them off at any time, once the bombs
were armed, or even detonate all three of them simultaneously if I
needed to. It was insurance and so required some proximity to
determine if remote detonation was needed. If one of the boys became
too frightened, or if he was caught, or injured somehow and unable to
explode his bomb, I needed to know.

It also gave me a good excuse to slip my watchers from Hamas and meet
with Lev Schauer, my contact with the Israeli Mossad. I'd told him I
had information on an upcoming operation, but no details. The
intention was to feed him once the bombs were detonated. I'd deliver
Hamas to the Israelis, in the form of Ahmed, who should have been on
his way back to Palestine by morning. Israel would loose their dogs
and another wave of violence would engulf the West Bank.

The plan was very good. There'd been too much talk lately and some
instability in the region was always desirable to my masters. Action,
not words, would be the order of the day and two years of difficult
negotiation would be wasted. The Jew government would be weakened
domestically and internationally, and Hamas would be under siege as it
hadn't been since the Israelis had moved on Arafat's compound several
years before. I didn't pretend to understand all of the political
ramifications and in that way I was very much like those three boys I
was about to murder. I was just a bomb walking around like a fanatic
puppet, dancing on the strings of my blind faith.

Ahmed wanting to be with me was a minor setback and I would have to
find a way to turn that to my advantage. He was coming because he was
suspicious perhaps, but more than likely he was just being very good
at his job. I'd learned to respect and even admire the man over the
past few months, even love him in my own way. It had certainly not
been hard lying to him about that and I'd pay for it later, I was
sure.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

"I'll be going back to America soon." I said.

"That's good." Ahmed was holding my hand, both of us dressed now as
western tourists and speaking French, although trying to pass
ourselves off as nothing but Americans, at least in my case.

Ahmed's mother had been French and his father Syrian. He'd been
educated in Paris and he carried a legitimate French passport, as well
as a half-dozen documents from other nations, including the United
States. They'd been supplied by the government of Libya, the Office of
Printing and Engraving, which had long specialized in creating
immaculate forgeries for terrorists.

"Perhaps you'll visit me there." I smiled at him and the man shrugged.

"You could come with me." He suggested.

"Where?" I paused to look at the diamonds in a shop window. We were in
Mahane Yehuda, the modern section of the city near the Knesset,
walking through a small shopping district towards Independence Park,
more or less.

"Greece." Ahmed looked with me. "We should enjoy a holiday, I think."

"You're serious?" I turned to stare at him.

"Weren't we both?" He was so calm, standing there, and handsome with
his dark eyes and aquiline nose.

We started walking again, moving with the thin crowd of tourists and
businessmen on their way home. Housewives returning to their families
after an afternoon of boutiques and beauty parlors. Jerusalem wasn't
well known for its cosmopolitan ways, but it existed in the shadows of
the Old City which drew millions of pilgrims every year. Jews,
Christians, Moslems, they all came to this, the most coveted city in
the western world.

"I have obligations." I said, feeling sad at the particular truth of
that lie.

"Love is also an obligation." Ahmed's arm was around my waist, holding
me close and we walked as lovers in the early night.

My bombs were set to go off in less than two hours, between ten and
ten-thirty to catch the late crowd of tourists and residents enjoying
Jerusalem's nightlife. My own destination was a modest basement pub
called Abraham's, or Bram's if you were a local. It was small and
shouldered between the Sheraton Hotel on one side and Manzo Tratorria,
an exquisite Italian restaurant on the other. Above it sat a
Starbuck's coffee shop. I was meeting Lev there at nine thirty, if
things went according to plan.

"You think they'll let us go?" I sighed. "Even if we wanted to? What
else would we do? The world is not right."

"You're thinking of your husband." Ahmed thought he knew me, but all
he knew were the things I'd told him, the background arranged for his
organization to find.

"Yes." I agreed.

"You cannot punish all of them, Elle." He said gently.

"Nor can I forgive them." I shrugged. "So if I must choose between two
things I cannot do..."

"Choose something else..."

"...I'll choose vengeance."

"...Choose me."

We had stopped again and we stood close by a bus queue filled with
people patiently waiting. I looked around self-consciously, as if I
were embarrassed by what seemed to be a small disagreement between us.
In actuality it was just an excuse to check once more for any sign
that we were under surveillance. It was the same reason I'd paused at
the jewelry store and why we were meandering up and down streets
almost aimlessly. It would not be difficult to follow us and it wasn't
my intention to lose anyone if they were there, but merely to
determine their existence.

I glanced at my watch and then gestured to a taxi stand just half a
block up. "Let's ride for a bit."

How strange to meet a terrorist who would love me enough to try and
change from his path. It should have been my role, in another, more
sensible world, to play the romantic and beg him away from this awful
place. They are all romantics though, terrorists like Ahmed,
hopelessly bound to a world view that was a thousand years out of
date. They embraced nothing except completely, with every inch of
their being, and it was a devotion I admired greatly.

We stood in line for a taxi and when it was our turn we paused, making
excuses in English and letting the man behind us take it. We took the
next one and not for any particular reason other than it was good
fieldcraft, much like telling the driver to tour the Old City. We
would let him drive for the next thirty minutes at least, picking his
own route and occasionally telling him to turn this way or that just
to appease our own sense of security.

The Mossad knew me, I was certain of that, just as I was reasonably
sure they didn't know Ahmed as anything but a faceless, nameless entry
in a file someplace. He was an intelligence officer, involved in
planning much more than any actual operations, and always within a
very small and compartmented cell that was soon dissolved. He had
brains, much more than muscles, which made him too valuable for the
heavy work. It was why he was with me, not to see how well I could
blow up a movie theater, but how I organized such a thing.

I was wearing the same clothes I'd worn beneath my robes earlier, the
khaki skirt and cream t-shirt, sans bra, so that my dark nipples stood
out well, even in the dim lighting of the back of the taxi. It was the
sort of nonchalant sexuality favored by European tourists and I rather
enjoyed it. I liked the way it gave Ahmed free access to massage my
firm ripe tits while we made out like teenagers beneath the driver's
envious stare. He was not so old, perhaps forty and thick with a dark
yarmulke tilted jauntily upon his head, but he was no Orthodox Jew and
I smiled at his reflection in the rearview mirror before returning my
lips to Ahmed's.

"I should have known you as a virgin." Ahmed breathed into my ear.

"You would have had to marry me then." I giggled, rubbing my hand
across the bulge in his trousers.

"Precisely so." He agreed and his hand squeezed my left breast hard,
making me gasp and bite his ear with the pleasure of it.

"Hey, none of that now." The driver protested in heavily accented
English when he heard the sound of Ahmed's zipper coming down. "You
need a hotel? I know a place just up the street."

"Do we need a hotel?" I licked my lips as I felt Ahmed's hot breath
across them.

"I think we need to tip the driver." Ahmed grinned and he reached into
his suit jacket, pulling out his wallet. He dropped some money onto
the front seat. "Keep driving."

"You're a bad man." I worked to free Ahmed's hard penis, pulling the
soft skin back to find his damp cockhead leaking precum.

"You've corrupted me." He was pushing my skirt up my long legs until
he could find my panties and pull them down and then off my left leg.

We fucked quickly and hard, bouncing that cab as it drove up and down
the winding streets. The whole city was built on the Haray Yehuda, the
Judean Hills, and even with the taxi's air conditioner going full
blast we were steaming up the windows. The driver was grumbling and he
lowered the front windows so that a harsh hot wind blew across us and
I shuddered, impaled on Ahmed's cock as he held me tight against him.

His cock was reaching deep with every thrust as he'd lift his hips to
meet me. I was cumming, just from the absurdity of making love in the
back of a taxi in Jerusalem. I'd done so many things in my twenty-
eight years, things to be proud of and shameful things as well, but
I'd never done this. It was surprising how exciting it was. I arched
my back, grinding my sex hard on the penis filling my cunt while Ahmed
held my ass in his hands, mouthing my tits through the thin cotton of
my t-shirt. I had large wet spots over my dark nipples and he was
biting them hard, one and then the other, making it so good for me
that I was very nearly in tears as one orgasm followed hard upon
another.

When he finally came inside me it was as a warm and welcome rush of
pleasure deep within my womb. I could feel his semen flooding me, his
cockhead nudging the bottom of my sex so that as he spasmed the head
of his cock seemed to tickle me like an oversized finger, stroking the
tender plot of my cervix even as his cum jetted softly against it. It
brought me off one last time and I buried my face in his neck, feeling
his beard against my skin and smelling his musky arousal. I kissed him
and clutched at the man like a child and I very much wished we were
someone else.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

It was nearly time and we were in the pub, Abraham's. Ahmed sat at a
table, nursing a drink. I'd told him I was meeting someone, but
nothing specific of course, only that I had to be in a certain place
at a certain time. He was interested, but he hadn't questioned me, and
I'd excused myself to the ladies room immediately. I was rather a mess
beneath my panties and he knew it.

I wiped myself as best I could and checked myself in the mirror. I
brushed my hair quickly and applied some fresh makeup, frowning at my
purse as it was very empty. I'd considered bringing a weapon, my
Beretta would have been nice, but it would have been a foolish risk. I
didn't carry so much as a fingernail file because once the first bomb
went off the Israelis would set up roadblocks and checkpoints quickly.
They were well practiced in such things and having an American
passport was no guarantee against being searched. I'd have to lose my
phone very quickly as it was the only piece of evidence I carried.

There was a television above the bar showing a baseball game from New
York, where it was still daylight, and only a few people watched it.
The bar was hardly crowded in any event. Lev, the Mossad agent I was
waiting for hadn't arrived yet. I knew him from Rome, where he'd been
posted to the Israeli Embassy several years before. He'd been covered
as a minor functionary, but of course he'd been working to gather
intelligence and I'd been used to give him information on several
occasions.

It had worked well as there was little excuse a healthy man needed to
spend time alone with an attractive young woman, especially when he
was far from home and in a city as vigorous as Rome. We'd never had
sex, of course, that would have spoiled everything. I enjoyed his
trust for a very specific reason, one that precluded intimacy, and yet
to the prying eyes of those who would notice such things, intimacy was
our perfect raison d'etre. Lev would come alone, as I'd told him to,
assuming I was the same courier I'd been previously. Nothing about me
suggested fieldwork, I was just a messenger girl, and he was in his
home city. He would be comfortable and confident and patient, in that
way he was very much like Ahmed.

I gave Ahmed the barest look and moved to the bar. I ordered a beer
from the bartender. A man nearby was drinking Heineken and that was as
good as anything else. He gave me a look up and down as I stood there,
narrowing his dark eyes briefly and there was no recognition in them.
I largely ignored him. He was harmless. All in all it was a quiet
place, much as I'd found it previously, and it suited my purposes
well

The Israeli didn't smile when he saw me, but rather swept across me
with his eyes as Lev took in the entire bar. It was natural and
relaxed and I gave him only the appraising look a woman will give to
any man at first glance. I stood up, forcing myself to leave the woman
at the bar and focus on the here and now. I carried my bottle to
Ahmed's table and sat down, watching Lev go to the bar. He smiled at
the woman I'd been talking to and ordered a drink.

"I know him." Ahmed said quietly.

"Who?" I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"The man at the bar." Ahmed was watching me and I waited three
heartbeats before glancing casually, as if I didn't know already whom
he meant.

"Who is he?" I asked quietly.

"Mossad." Ahmed had a curious smile. "But you know that already."

"Yes." I nodded.

"He's the one you're meeting?" Ahmed's hands were beneath the table as
he leaned forward and I didn't think he was armed, but I couldn't be
certain of it just then.

"I wish to speak with him, yes." I stared into Ahmed's eyes.

"May I ask why?" He spoke calmly, reasonably, and I had little doubt
that he was pointing a pistol at me. He must have kept it in an ankle
holster because fucking is a good way to frisk someone, as a general
rule, and I'd felt nothing but him in the back of that taxi.

"He was there when my husband died." I told him. "He was one of the
men who questioned him."

"And so..."

"And so I would like to ask some questions of my own." I said. "Before
I kill him."

"You would risk your mission for this?" Ahmed wanted to believe me,
but the timing was bad and he knew it.

"I'm leaving for Beirut in seven hours." I checked my watch and it was
nine-forty. I leaned close, the vehemence plain in my voice. "I would
risk everything for this."

"Where?" Ahmed seemed to relax, satisfied with my sincerity, and it
was an explanation a man like him would readily accept. It was another
reason I was so good at my work.

"The men's room." I shrugged and allowed myself a smile. "Do you think
he would say no?"

"To you?" Ahmed sighed and he was calculating, even as he tried to
rationalize what he was doing. All of his instincts were telling him
to run because this was unexpected and wrong.

"Wait for me." I told him. "Ten minutes and I'll be done."

This was asking for too much, wanting Ahmed to sit there while I spoke
privately with a Mossad agent, perhaps murdered him, perhaps not. He
could never agree to that, it was impossible for him to trust anyone
that much. He would have to know exactly what was being said, see it
with his own eyes when I killed the man, and if Ahmed agreed to this
it would be a lie and only mean that Ahmed intended to betray me.

"Alright, Elle." He nodded. "Go get your answers."

I swallowed hard and my heart seemed ready to burst. I was on my path
now; it had finally come clear at the last possible moment. My life
had always been like that. All the plans and expectations coming to
naught as events pulled me one way and then the other. There were so
many choices leading to this night, so many decisions that could have
been made differently, by myself and others. I didn't wish to believe
in fate, but sometimes it was a small comfort to feel that I had no
control over events. It was a lie, of course, but it would see me
through what I needed to do.

I caught Lev's eye as I walked past, darting my eyes towards the back
of the bar and the short hallway to the alley, a stockroom, and the
restrooms. I didn't look to see if he was following me, he would in a
minute or two and I pushed my way into the men's room quickly, finding
it agreeably large with several urinals and a single stall. Some sinks
and mirrors and exactly the sort of toilet you'd expect in an uptown
bar. I'd been here before, scouting locations, and the place was
perfect.

Lev was a minute behind me and he stepped inside, glancing around just
to ensure we were alone, pushing open the door of the stall and then
turning to me. I took him then, without a word or a warning. He was
unprepared, but that would have made little difference. I punched him
in the solar plexus with stiff knuckles, doubling the man over and I
brought the heel of my right hand down quickly on the back of his
neck, just between the second and third vertebrae. He wasn't dead, but
stunned and unconscious. I searched him quickly, rolling him onto his
back and finding no gun, but he did have a knife, a spring loaded
blade about six inches long and that would do.

I moved him to the center of the restroom, crouching over him and
assuming a pose facing the restroom door. Ahmed would be the next one
through, only him. He'd make certain of that and he would want to talk
first, because he was in love and that was always bad for a man's
judgment. It cooled the instincts and introduced doubt into situations
which had no room for it. He might even let me live, it wasn't
entirely beyond the realm of possibility, but no, I was a liability. I
was the doubt in the situation and Ahmed needed to remove me. It's
what I would do if our roles were reversed. That's how quickly and
ruthlessly our lives can change, and unless you've lived it, you can
never truly understand, but that's how a war is.

Ahmed came through the door quickly, his small pistol in his hand,
ready for anything, or so he hoped. He wasn't a field man though, and
no matter how good your training is, it just doesn't prepare you for
the real thing. Ahmed was at a serious disadvantage in every way you
can think of. He should have fled and done his job, played the
intelligence officer and analyzed the data. But he didn't.

"He's unconscious." I smiled up at Ahmed. "Help me move him; I want to
speak with him before we kill him."

"You must go, leave him with me." Ahmed licked his lips and he was
letting me live. He'd made up his mind, or changed it possibly, seeing
the Israeli on the floor like an enemy should be. It had earned me a
small bit of trust, a second chance.

"Not until I talk to him." I shook my head. "Hurry up, he'll awake
soon."

Ahmed frowned, but did as I asked, coming close and squatting on the
other side of Lev's body. I stabbed him then, reaching with my left
hand to grab Ahmed's right wrist, pushing down to keep the gun pointed
at Lev, and bringing my right hand up with that cold steel thrusting
upward into Ahmed's chest. It went through his sternum, just beneath
the ribcage, once, twice...Three times in the span of a heartbeat,
finding that organ finally with the last penetration and Ahmed's body
spasmed, his fingers jerking so that the gun went off with a loud
popping sound. The bullet went into Lev's body through his side, just
beneath his armpit.

Ahmed's handsome face was ashen, all color draining away, and his
beautiful eyes widened with surprise. There was little blood, most of
it spilling internally, into the man's chest and lungs. He lived
briefly, while his heart struggled to beat around that cruel blade,
but his strength had gone quickly. He threatened to fall forward onto
his enemy, but I held him up for a moment, long enough to find his
trigger finger awkwardly with my thumb. I squeezed twice, aiming as
best I could to find Lev's heart and lungs, and then let the hand go.
Ahmed was heavy and it wasn't easy keeping him balanced, but all I
needed to do was wipe the handle of the knife, using the soft interior
lining of Ahmed's jacket to do it.

I let him fall across the Israeli, sitting and back and then rising
slowly. I washed my hands and then I washed the sink, looking around
the restroom carefully, making sure there was no sign that I'd been
there. The two men killed each other, it was simple enough and even if
it were not entirely believed, there was no evidence of anything else.
The only thing left to do was leave my phone and I wiped it clean of
my prints. I used Ahmed's dead fingers to leave some evidence of
ownership, and then dropped it on the floor, giving the phone a hard
kick so that it hit the wall.

A half dozen pieces of plastic and metal broke away and most of the
phone skittered into the empty stall. My three bombs didn't need my
help, the phone had only been intended for evidence and now it was
planted, although not as I'd originally planned. This was actually
better and proof of my skills. I was entirely too good at this sort of
thing and it made me sad, much more so than killing either of those
two men, both of whom had trusted me. If I were very lucky the bombs
might not even go off, it wouldn't matter so long as they were found,
but I had little hope of their failure; my three angels had nowhere to
go but Paradise.

I left through the back door, shouldering it open to avoid the bar and
anyone who might see me coming out. Someone would remember me, I was
sure, people don't forget attractive women, especially in this part of
the world, but they wouldn't remember seeing me leave. With any luck
the woman at the bar would occupy most of their collective memory;
she'd attracted enough attention to do me that favor at least. It was
the best I could do and I was leaving soon anyway, on my way back to
Rome and then America. Done with this evil business finally.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I rang the bell at official residence of Luis Cardinal Trujillo, the
Papal Nuncio to Israel, as the first explosion echoed through the
still Jerusalem night. I felt nothing inside as I waited somewhat
impatiently. A young man finally answered, a priest from Ireland named
Sean Curtain who served as the Cardinal's secretary.

"Let us not sleep as others do..." I said in Latin.

"...but let us watch and be sober." The boy finished the passage from
First Thessalonians. "Welcome home, Sister Ellen, His Eminence is
expecting you."


end of prologue

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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