Free The Team by David M. Salkin

dialed.
    A gruff voice said, “Who is this?”
    “It’s Tariq. I came to pick up the shipment, but there’s a problem.”
    A pause. “What problem?”
    “The money. It never arrived.”
    “Of course it arrived! Don’t let them double-cross us!”
    “They say it didn’t, and he has a knife,” said Tariq, his voice trembling.
    “I’ll call you back in one minute,” said the voice, which hung up before Tariq could protest.
    Tariq relayed that back to Abu, who walked over to the skins and picked up a sharpening stone. He eyed Tariq and tossed the stone back in the dirt. “No, a dull blade will be better.”
    Tariq’s eyes flooded with tears. He considered himself a brave Jihadist, prepared to die for Allah, but not like this. He had a mission to carry out.
    An eternity went by, and the cell phone rang. Tariq answered.
    A serious voice said, “The driver doesn’t pick up.”
    “What do you mean?” stuttered Tariq.
    “We’ll get more money. Two days.”
    Tariq looked at Abu with pleading eyes. He managed to say, “Two days.”
    Abu Mohamed took the phone from Tariq’s hand and spoke to the man on the other end. “You will call me about the money in two days. But you won’t speak to Tariq. I want you to listen carefully now.” He handed the phone to one of his men, and the two other men grabbed Tariq by the arms, holding him so tightly he couldn’t move. The man with the phone held it towards Tariq and began shooting video. Abu grabbed Tariq’s hair with one hand and began cutting his throat with the other. Tariq managed a long scream before he gurgled and blood squirted all over everyone. Abu kept cutting and sawing with the dull blade until he eventually severed Tariq’s head. He dropped it on the ground and walked back to the table to pick up a cloth to wipe off his hands.
    “Send the video to that number. Tell them two days , or I’ll find every single one of them.”
    “What about him?” asked one of Abu’s men.
    “Bury it in the desert,” sneered Abu Mohamed, and he walked back into the house.

Chapter 16
    Palace of Prince Abdul bin-Mustafa Awadi
     
    The prince was just back from racing in the desert. He had taken his 3.9 million dollar Lamborghini Veneno out for some fun. He had topped out at three hundred kilometers per hour and enjoyed quite a thrill. Now he was back at his palace, ready for a swim in one of his pools before his afternoon massage.
    One of his assistants walked out of the house when he heard the Veneno roar up the circular driveway towards the fifty-car garage. He walked very quickly to the prince, his face showing his concern. The prince had enjoyed his morning, and he was angry before the man even spoke.
    The assistant bowed slightly and showed Abdul a disposable cell phone. “There’s been a serious problem,” he said quietly. “The truck never arrived.”
    Abdul’s face went pale. “What do you mean? That was two days ago. We’re just hearing about this now?”
    “The driver was told to deliver the truck and return home. He was only to call if there was an emergency. He never called, so it was assumed everything was fine. Just now, Tariq called. He was at the exchange.”
    “And?” asked Abdul.
    “Abu Mohamed believed he had been double crossed. The money never arrived. He took it out on Tariq.” He showed Abdul a picture on the cell phone from Tariq’s number. It was Tariq’s head on the ground near a pile of bloody sheep skins.
    Abdul’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He finally managed to whisper a quiet prayer. “He was a loyal man,” said Abdul. “Abu had no right.”
    “Fifty million dollars is missing. The package is out there somewhere. What do you want me to do? Abu Mohamed said he was giving us two days to replace the money, or he was going to come looking for all of us.”
    The prince looked at Tariq’s head. He had a huge security detail, but he also didn’t need any problems from the Islamist groups. “Get it done,” was all