One of the things that Hakim liked about the United States were the malls. One could lose themselves for hours in one of those places, and if he had one weakness, it was that he liked nice things. He had never married and he liked the freedom that it carried, particularly in relation to his shopping habits - fast cars, nice clothing and accessories, and techno stuff like the latest smartphones.
Hakim's good mood disappeared when he emerged from a jewellery store with an expensive Rolex on his wrist and spotted a photofit of Jahil. The smile disappeared from his eyes and he paused in an uncertain fashion. He looked around him, suddenly very much on edge, but nobody was paying him any heed. Where had the cops got all that information from? He wanted to tear down the wanted poster but was smart enough to recognize that would warrant attention. With a scowl, he began walking briskly towards an exit, his head down and his brain working furiously. He felt suddenly like a man on the run and he fought an impulse to break into a run. Sweat was beading his forehead and he looked like a man on the verge of having a heart attack. He used the escalator to get back to his level and he wasted no time in climbing back into his Maserati Ghibli and powering away.
Jahil greeted him with a smile as he came back through the door of the penthouse they all shared. "How did your shopping trip go?"
Hakim backhanded him across the mouth and the lanky terrorist went flailing backwards. A trickle of blood appeared on his thin lips and shock showed in his brown eyes. This was what they all hated about Hakim; his propensity for sudden, inexplicable violence. Jalil looked to Hakim in astonished puzzlement and mouthed a question: "What?"
Hakim looked at him in anger. "Who's been talking out of turn? There's a poster, a wanted flyer, on you down at the mall. How do you explain that?"
"A poster of me?"
"Yes." Hakim was still seething in anger,and his tem-
ple was throbbing as he stared down Jahil. The man
wiped a speck of blood from his lip with a paper cloth
and shrugged at his boss.
"I've no answers for you," Jahil replied.
Hakim said nothing. His mind was racing furiously.
Eventually he met the hurt eyes of Jahil. "You'll lie low,"
he ordered. "Change yourappearance. Shave all that hair
off your head and face and make yourself more American looking."
"American looking?"
"A hat, maybe," Hakim suggested. "And a lumber
jacket?"
"In this weather?" It was unusually hot for November, feeling more like July.
"You know the kind of thing. Anything that will
make you blend in better. Have a think about it and leave our a list. I'll get the stuff for you."
YOU ARE READING
MANO
ActionThere's a new cop in Hawaii, and he doesn't take prisoners. The tale is a post 911 piece and concerns the hunt for an ISIS terrorist cell intent on carrying out a dirty bomb attack on the USS Arizona memorial at Pearl Harbour. The group is led by...
