Milking a Terrorist

We were lucky we got him this far into our clutches.

After they left, he came and got me. He was being introspective and suggested we swim in the pool with the underwater lights on. "You said you liked being fucked in the swimming pool," he said.

We did swim in the pool, naked, but it resulted only in a blow job. He sat on the side of the pool while I sucked his cock. When he was fully erect, he pulled me out of the pool, dried me and then him off, carried me into the bedroom, and fucked me again there.

"I hope that went well," I murmured afterward as we lay in an embrace. I wanted to see if there was any more I could get from him. "You don't seem--"

He gave a low laugh.

"What's funny?" I asked.

"Not so much funny as ironic. People get something in their minds and they can't see beyond that," he said. "Has your family readjusted to Cyprus from wherever they were displaced?"

"Lebanon, the last time," I said. "From Palestine and then Lebanon--my Palestinian name is Nabil, but for my business I need a Greek name, so I am Costas."

"Can I start calling you Nabil?" he asked. "You don't want to forget where you came from, do you?"

"I would like you to call me Nabil, yes. And my people--they never forget. They never stop hating." I said this to keep in his head what side this character I was playing could be on--that he could find me sympathetic and could talk to me. "But they have a good life here too."

"And why is that?"

"We are industrious people," I said. "Palestinians are good workers. We don't forget, but we rise above it and take care of ourselves."

"So, sometimes you can hold off on your hate as long as you can create a good life for yourselves."

"I guess so," I said after a pause. "Work can be hard, though. And being what I am isn't necessarily a good life." I had to throw in a little "pity me" there.

"You love being fucked and you make good money at it. Don't pretend otherwise." He laughed again.

"I suppose," I said.

"I am an Arab," he said.

"Yes, I understand that," I answered.

"Do you see anything beyond that in me?"

"What else is there to see?" I asked. "You want me to tell you that you fuck well? You do. You fuck well."

"So, you see in me an Arab who fucks well--and maybe one with grudges and a violent ideology."

"You had strong words to say at dinner about the treatment of Palestinians," I said. "Words I agree with." If he was going to try to recruit me, this would be the point. Would the controllers have an interest in going on that tangent? Would my future be as an infiltrator into the Sayf Allah? Could I live that deception and danger?

I didn't have a chance to find out. He laughed again then and, curiously, said, "Those Russians tonight couldn't see beyond it either." Then, before I could pursue that, he rolled over on top of me and fucked me again.

Hamid was getting full value out of his rent-boy contract.

He went into a deep sleep then from exhaustion of his flight and the multiple times he fucked me--and probably from the tension of his meeting with Viktor and Serge. When I was sure he was asleep, I left him, gathered the note I'd written from the kitchen drawer, retrieved the bicycle from the storage shed at the kitchen side of the house that Hamid had no reason to know was there, and peddled quietly into Zyyi.

I met Viktor, who I knew as Harvey Johns, and Serge, who I knew as Thomas Gains, at an open-air all-night tavern by the Zyyi marina. Stella, the holiday villa's housekeeper was there too.

The three greeted me, with surprise.

"The meeting wasn't what we expected," Harvey Johns said. "It wasn't negotiations for support or an arms buy. It was a shakedown."

"A shakedown? Of the Russians?"

"Yes," Thomas Gains said. "We weren't giving enough consideration of that claimed Sayf Allah attack in St. Petersburg. We should have wondered why they'd do that if they wanted help in any way from the Russians."

"So, what was it?" I asked.

"Sayf Allah isn't a political terrorist group, although the effect is the same," Johns said. "It's an extortion group. Hamid hit us for ransom for not attacking in Russia again--and for more money they'd attack where the Russians want havoc created. It's a mercenary army, not an ideological one."

So that was what Hamid was hinting to me about assumptions made because he was an Arab and not looking beyond those assumptions.

"But we're still interested in closing the Sayf Allah down?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, as much as ever," Gains said.

"Our other assumptions might be off then too," I said. "We've been thinking they are located in or near the Persian Gulf. What if they are somewhere else altogether?" And that's when I pulled out the tidbits of information I'd gleaned from Hamid's effects that connected him with Morocco.

"We'll check that out," Johns said. "You'd better get back to the house now, though, before he wakes and misses you."

The next morning, Stella pulled me aside while she was at the house.

"Our people were busy last night," she whispered to me. "You were on to something. Hamid lives in Tangier and this Phillipe you found reference to owns the Legionnaire bar. And that's a clue too. He's French and a former French Foreign Legionnaire. He seems to have gathered a lot of his old comrades. We think this Phillipe is Sayf Allah and he heads an extortion mercenary force posing as a Muslim terrorist organization. Hamid is probably the only Arab involved, and that's why he's the only front man we've seen in the media. We think the attacks in France, Germany, and the United States were demonstrations and that the smaller countries--Luxembourg, Belgium, and Liechtenstein--just paid up after the first attacks there, Harvey said. Russia was Phillipe getting too greedy and bold."

It all was making sense now.

"He'll be extracted this evening when the men meeting with him again. In the meantime, hang tough with it."

* * * *

Hamid didn't pitch me to join the Sayf Allah that afternoon, which only confirmed for me that the organization wasn't a Muslim terrorist group--that it was a mercenary extortion army using the cover of politics and religion. Instead, after lunch we went down to the sea naked and I swam and then we fucked on the beach. Then we came back up to the pool, and I gave him a massage on the lounge bed, both of us intending on that leading to another fuck. I wanted him to keep his mind on that rather than anything else he could be thinking of before my compatriots lowered the boom on him.

He dozed off while I was massaging him. I heard noises from the direction of the beach and looked down there. At first I thought our guys had moved up their roll-up operation. A small trawler was hovering off the beach and two rubber rafts, each with five or six guys in military gear were coming into the beach. I pretty quickly realized these weren't "my" guys, though. We hadn't brought nearly that many to the party for one and no one had told me about a trawler being used in the extraction for another.

These were someone else's "guys." Moving low, so they didn't see me, I went around to the west side of the house and down into the basement. The guy on duty in the listening room was named Frank. I had him send up a distress signal to our forces in nearby Zyyi.

By the time our forces arrived, though, the rafts were on their way back to the trawler, and Hamid was gone. They might have checked inside the villa for others but they didn't take the time to realize there was a basement.

Harvey, Thomas, Stella, Frank, I, now with a pair of shorts pulled on, and a couple of others who had been further in the background stood on the terrace of the villa, helplessly watching the rafts reach the trawler and then the trawler steam off.

"My guess is it was the Russians for real," Harvey said. "After St. Petersburg, they must have gotten royally pissed and launched a track-down operation of their own. Hamid was the most public image of Sayf Allah, so they must have concentrated on finding him and now have."

"I checked the bedroom," I said. "The stuff related to Morocco is still there, so maybe they won't be too fast in figuring out where to go from here. It won't go easy for Hamid, though."

"Are you sorry for that?" Stella asked.

"Not in the least," I answered. "I saw the after photos of some of their attacks on civilian targets. I just regret that the Russians might get to Phillipe before we do."

"That won't happen," Harvey said. "We got the news out last night. An operation in Tangier has already started."

"So, we can clean up here and go home," I asked.

"Sure. We'll just--"

"Just one more trip around the park for you," a deep male voice sounded from in back of them, in the doorway into the villa's living room.

We all turned to see that the head of the operation--of all Agency operations including prostitution work--Sam Winterberry, was standing there.

"You did very well, Toby," he said, directing that at me. Of course I wasn't either the Costas who I had been introduced to Hamid as in my Greek rent-boy identify or the Nabil of the secondary Palestinian refugee persona I'd later laid on the Arab. I was the American, Toby Kline. "I would like to consult with you in here before you leave, please."

I knew what "consult" meant and where "in here" would be with Sam Winterberry. He was a very controlling boss. He took my hand as I entered the villa through the glass doors, led me to the master bedroom, and shut the door behind us.

Submission time.