me show you to your room."
Abbas followed the man. On his way to the room, the man’s wife approached him and gave him a hug, condoling him on his father’s death.
When Abbas settled in, he wondered what this woman would think of her husband if she knew what he had done. He even wondered what she would think of him if she found out he was planning on killing her husband.
The next day his father’s friend took him to the council meeting. Everyone was surprised and glad to see him alive except for one other man, and he seemed to breathe easier after he talked privately with Abbas’s host.
During the meeting, Abbas announced his plans for finishing his schooling, then suggested that his host take over his father’s position and the other traitor be his deputy. He told the council that his father trusted those two the most.
Everyone agreed and the two traitors were reassured that Abbas had no knowledge of their involvement in his father’s death.
When Abbas left the American Embassy he knew what he had to do. He was about to accomplish two things at the same time.
One was to get the Americans to trust him and convince the Israelis to leave him alone. The other was to avenge his father.
CHAPTER 3 – VENGEANCE
Abbas lurked in the shadows for hours. He knew the neighborhood like no one else did – his father had insisted on it. Abbas could have found his way around the camp blindfold.
He listened, he watched and when he finally decided that everyone had retired, he began his slow but methodical advance towards his target, making sure no one could see him.
He had stayed with the family a couple of months now. They trusted him; he had made sure of that. He had never let them guess his true emotions. The man had even given him a key to his house, not that he needed it, but it definitely made things easier.
Abbas silently unlocked the door and slithered inside. First he headed for the boys’ room, as they would wake up first, he knew. He had studied that family in detail, like he had never studied anything before.
Abbas walked into the room and stood over the two boys. The older was seven, the younger was five. He really hated having to do what he was about to do because he genuinely liked them, but this was a different world. Though over the time he had spent with this family he had learned to feel affection towards the boys and they for him, he knew that one day they would come after him and he could not take that chance. He heard the father snoring and knew he would not be interrupted.
From behind his back, Abbas took the revolver, the silencer already attached. He looked at it, and with slightly damp eyes, aimed at his targets. One shot point blank into each boy’s head was enough. The older boy never made a sound and neither did the younger one. He then proceeded to do the hard work, and it was very hard. He took out his knife and started to sever the heads. It was not easy and it took him a lot longer than he had expected. He was wishing he had brought a larger and sharper knife. By the time he was done, he was soaked with blood, but he was wearing black clothing and it didn’t show, not that it mattered. Abbas carried the two heads in one hand by the hair and went to the other room. As he walked in, the man did not stir but the woman did and slowly started opening her eyes. He really liked the woman. She had taken care of him and pampered him. She felt sorry for him and had no idea of her husband’s involvement. Never the less, he could not let her live either. She would tell everyone, Abbas fired two shots into her head. He wanted to spare her seeing him and what was in his hand. He then slowly approached the bed and laid the heads next to the man, backed up, stood in the corner and waited.
The traitor was sound asleep but the first time he stirred, he knew something was wrong. He felt himself lying in something very sticky and wondered what it could be. He half opened his eyes and saw his son’s face looking at him.
"You should be in your own bed, son. Not enough room for all of us in here."
When the man tried to put his hand on his son’s body to move him, he came to the horrific realization that there was nothing there. His eyes opened wide, then he saw the severed head. The man leapt out of bed trying to put some distance between it and him, gasping for air, as nausea flooded through him. As he stood up, he noticed his other boy’s head. He was so horrified, he could not speak. He was frantically looking around the room when he finally saw Abbas standing there.
The man took another look at the bed and realized that his wife was also dead. He looked again at Abbas and knew.
When the traitor finally regained some of his senses, he started crying.
"Why Abbas? Why my wife and kids? They loved you."
"You should have thought of that before you decided to betray us. I saw you that day leading the Israelis towards our house. Who was it that shot my father? Was it you or the other traitor, which of my father’s friends murdered him?"
The man just stood there, silent. He knew what was coming. He knew his time was up. He took another look at his dead wife and the severed heads of his beloved sons and collapsed, all composure gone.
Abbas was never sure whether the man died of the gunshot or of a heart attack. To him it didn’t make any difference. He had to finish what he came here to do and he still had one more stop to make.
Working on the man’s head, as on his sons before, he was glad the other traitor did not have any children.
When he was done, Abbas went into the bathroom and threw up.
The mission at the next house did not take as long. He just went in, shot them both, man and wife, then severed the second man’s head.
When he was done it was still dark outside. Abbas carried the black duffel bag and hurried to the second man’s car, grabbing the keys on his way out.
He had done his homework well. Everything went according to plan. He had studied both men’s habits, knowing when they ate, when they slept, where they put things. He had watched every move they made. He wanted to make sure nothing went wrong when he did what he had to do, and nothing did.
On his drive out of the area, Abbas wondered what the people of the camp were going to think. He wondered if they would blame this on the Israelis, just like they blamed everything else on them. He was sure they would. Matter of fact, he counted on it – it was a part of his plan.
Abbas had planned his hideout. He parked the vehicle amongst the trees alongside one of the beaches, then covered it with brush and tree limbs until he was satisfied no one would notice it. It was the same beach where he had hidden that night he had eased himself out of the coffin. This time it was even safer. Then it had been spring but now it was almost winter. No one had ventured close then and he was sure no one would now. He had to wait a full day before he made his way to Beirut and on to the American Embassy the following night. He had promised the CIA agent he would contact him in a couple of days. He couldn’t help but wonder how the agent was going to react when he opened the duffel bag and saw what was inside.
Perfect, he thought to himself. They are going to be extremely glad I want to get out of here and they will help me with whatever I need.
The next night, Abbas drove to Beirut, parked the car a block away from the Embassy and waited for daylight. He made sure to keep the vehicle out of sight in case someone recognized it and informed the Palestinians. He was sure the organization
