Free The Assassin (Max Doerr Book 1) by Jay Deb Page B

about the University were its staff and the
students.  
    Naseer
did everything to achieve his goal, but after liaising with al-Qaeda’s London
cell and other Muslim terrorist outfits, he sadly realized that overthrowing
the king would not be as easy as he had expected. He felt even more frustrated
after learning that Jordan was not a big name on al-Qaeda’s priority list.
    But
he was determined to be an important person in the fiefdom of terrorists.
Naseer became a hot-shot authority in the terrorist circle by exploding a bomb
in London’s metro station and killing seven innocents, and then he swore
against America. He wrote fiery blogs on the internet about his antipathy for
the most powerful nation on Earth. He went to the mountains of Afghanistan for
training and claimed to have killed four Americans there.
     
     
    DOERR
WENT TO London and took up residence in a hotel near Maida Vale for two months.
He never told anyone what exactly he did, but the London police recovered a
diamond-studded pendant and three thick gold necklaces from Naseer’s apartment,
which had been reported stolen by the wife of a billionaire Russian oil tycoon.
A judge sentenced Naseer to three years in jail, but after two months he was
deported to Jordan, where the state police beat him up and tortured him with
spiked wires, squeezing out the last drop of his blood and every bit of
information he possessed. The intelligence that he gave up was faxed to Langley
within hours.
     
     
    “OPERATION
THREE IS going to be here, in America,” Samuel explained, sitting across the
table from Doerr in Susie’s Bar. “In fact, it’s right here, in New York.”
    “In
New York?” Doerr asked as he pressed his beer bottle to his lips. Loud metal
music played in the background. It was late evening, and the bar was full of
drinkers who needed a break. Soon there would be no chair left unoccupied.
    “Yes,”
Samuel said. “Al Mosabi, the Saudi minister and tycoon, will be visiting
Central Park. He is a big financial supporter for terrorists. We are going to
take him down. Rather, you are going to take him down.”
    “Can
we kill him on US soil?” Doerr gave him a curt look. “Will that be right?”
    “Everything
is right if it’s about killing terrorists.”
    “What
if a Saudi furor breaks over this?”
    “Well,”
Samuel had a smirk on his face, “we will let our do-nothing State Department
handle that. Let them do some work. Why should we worry about everything?”
Samuel took another sip of his beer and put the bottle down. “Now, let’s talk
about the details of the operation. This Mosabi guy has been funneling money to
terrorists all over the world. He is here for an Arab League meeting. Many in
the league know what he actually does, but most members don’t know. We need to
get him. I’ve already emailed you his dossier. We will meet again and talk
about the operation in detail after you go through it.”      
    Doerr
nodded, but his mind vacillated. It was not like he had never killed anyone on American
soil, but killing a foreign national, under the tutelage of the government right
here in New York, was no small deal. But he was sure Samuel had done his homework.
     
     
    JOHNNY’S
STEAK HOUSE, a restaurant cum bar on Forty-Second Street, had been visited by
Doerr many times.
    He
entered the place with Victor and Len, the two CIA men who had accompanied
Samuel when Doerr had met him the first time. The maître d’ showed them to the
leather-upholstered booth.
    After
ordering their beers, they started talking.
    “I
have some concerns about my next job,” Doerr said.
    “Why?”
Victor asked, and Len looked on.
    “I
have to take down a target here in New York.” Doerr looked down at the table
and tapped the knuckles of his three fingers.
    “Don’t
worry,” said Len. “Samuel is the rising star in the CIA. Soon he’ll be a hotshot
field manager. Trust me, he is covering every angle.”
    Victor
nodded, rubbing his bearded