Free Scorpion Betrayal by Andrew Kaplan

Qassioun.
    â€œIt seems we both have secrets,” al-Hafez said finally. “May I smoke?”
    Scorpion picked up the gun and gestured with it for al-Hafez to go ahead. Al-Hafez started to light a cigarette and asked, “How about
shai
? Shall I have some brought?”
    Scorpion shook his head no. Al-Hafez lit the cigarette and exhaled.
    â€œOf the Palestinian, I know only a little. Very little, and for that you have to shoot me,” he said.
    Scorpion fired the pistol, the bullet hitting the seat between al-Hafez’s legs with a loud
thunk.
Al-Hafez stared at him, stunned, wide-eyed.
    â€œThe Palestinian,” Scorpion said. He cocked the hammer, and al-Hafez flinched involuntarily at the click. “Is he really Palestinian?”
    â€œI have no idea. There was a rumor that he fought the Israelis in Lebanon in July 2006.”
    â€œWhat’s his name?”
    â€œI don’t know, and if I did, I would not say,” al-Hafez said, raising his hand. It trembled, just slightly, and he was embarrassed by it. He took a deep breath. “Even if you shoot me, I can’t tell you. I’ve probably told you too much already.”
    â€œHow is it you don’t know? You support Hezbollah, you and the Iranians.”
    â€œAgainst the Israelis, of course. And in Lebanon, where we have legitimate national interests. Lebanon was part of Syria for thousands of years, until the 1920s when the French came along and invented it as a country. But not against the Egyptians—or the Americans.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause we’re surrounded by countries allied to you, including the strongest army in the Middle East, the Israelis, right on our border. We are not so smart like you with satellites and gadgets, but also not so stupid. It’s not in our interest, just as what happened to Budawi was not in our interest. And please, where is the BlackBerry that you took?” Scorpion placed the BlackBerry he’d found in al-Hafez’s drawer on the desk.
    â€œI can’t let you walk out with that,” al-Hafez said.
    â€œYou can’t stop me. Unless…” Scorpion hesitated.
    Al-Hafez nodded, accepting the implied offer. “We’ve heard rumors of a power struggle within Hezbollah,” he said. “The Islamic Resistance is the action cell of a violent radical faction. That’s why we weren’t surprised when you showed up on our radar, and why I’m telling you now. There are whispers of something very big about to happen, but we don’t know what and we are not involved. To prove it, in exchange for returning my BlackBerry and letting you walk out of here, I’ll give you Dr. Abadi’s address. Inside Islamic Resistance his nom de guerre is Abu Faraj.” He got up, walked over to his desk and wrote the address on a piece of paper. He started to hand it to Scorpion, then stopped. “Where is my man, Fawzi al-Diyala?”
    Scorpion told him the name of the hotel.
    â€œIs he alive?”
    â€œHe’s tied up and he’ll have a filthy hangover and won’t remember much, but otherwise he’s unharmed.”
    Al-Hafez offered the slip of paper. “Call off your men. If anyone else follows me, I’ll kill them,” Scorpion said, putting the slip of paper in his pocket.
    â€œIt’s in the al Mouhajarine district. Be warned. He’s well protected,” al-Hafez said.
    â€œSo were you.”
    â€œExtremely well protected.”
    â€œI’ll keep that in mind,” Scorpion said, leaving the BlackBerry on the desktop and getting up.
    Al Hafez walked around and sat down behind his desk. Scorpion stuck the gun in his belt, pulled his shirt over it and headed for the door.
    â€œBy the way,” he said, pausing at the door. “What’s Abadi a doctor of?”
    â€œHe’s a medical doctor.”
    â€œWhat’s his specialty?”
    â€œInfectious diseases. Why?”
    â€œJust