Ocean City HQ

The Salah or Islamic prayers practiced five-times-a-day took only five-minutes per session. Ten minutes later his cab pulled into the Colonnade entrance. Farsier went directly to the dimly lit restaurant called “The Green Room”.

“You’re fifteen minutes early, Mr. Farsier.” Dakin smiled as Farsier sat down looking nervously around the low lighted restaurant.

“As are you, Mr. Dakin.” Farsier looked for his contact person but couldn’t acknowledge any sign. He began to sweat in the cool room.

“Excuse me, sir.” A man in a dark suit bumped Farsier. “It’s this poor lighting with the bright sun outside.” The portly, bearded-man continued following the maître d’ to his table. The man was seated facing Farsier’s table. He gave him a slight smile.

Allah be praised. It must be him, my protection. Farsier wiped his brow with the cloth napkin. “So, I think there is food I am allowed on this menu.”

“Mr. Farsier, food is secondary. Our mission is primary.” Dakin glared at Farsier. “Who do you really represent?”

Farsier choked on his water. “What? What do you mean? I represent the Muslims of the free world.” He stared in horror at the man across the room still making eye contact with him. There was no sign from the man who had bumped him of any acknowledgement.

“Don’t bullshit me, Farsier. I’ve been in this business a long time. You are in deep trouble trying to infiltrate an important group of people. Are you the bomber?”

“What? What are you saying?” Farsier stood up. He grabbed his cell phone and pressed a speed dial number as he hastily left the Green Room. Farsier moved quickly to the Colonnade entrance with his waiting car in a line with a few limos. He jumped in as the phone was finally answered. Farsier never saw the man who bumped him go over and talk to Dakin.

“I have just got settled.” Zee barked. “You were to call for emergency only. What of your meeting with the one called Dakin? ”

“He knows. He knows of my holy mission. He knows.” Farsier knew not to state his contact’s name over the insecure cell phone.

“Meet me in two hours at the safe room.”

Farsier stared at his cell phone, sweating profusely. The driver looked at his passenger. “Are you all right?”

“I don’t know. Please drive to the Prudential Center parking lot underground. We must wait some time.”

The Prudential building was once the tallest structure in Boston. It was a part of the Copley Square complex near the Colonnade Hotel. It had its own underground subway station. Farsier opened his wallet and looked at the small unfolded note designating the safe room on the twenty-eighth floor of the Prudential tower.

At two o’clock Farsier walked from the elevator at floor number 28 and found the room number. The door had a stenciled title of “Continental Alliance” in large black letters beneath its number. He opened the door and walked in to face an empty reception desk with an opened office to its right.

Farsier walked into the empty office and back to the receptionist desk. A note had been placed in the middle of the framed leather blotter. It was a phone number and in Farsi characters instructions for him to call the number upon his arrival. Farsier picked up the desk phone and heard the dial tone. He dialed the number on the note and the familiar voice answered.

“What were the exact words of the man who spoke to you earlier?”

Farsier related Dakin’s queries at the restaurant.

“What did he look like and tell me his position and his title?”

Again Farsier complied.

“Go to the window of the office. It faces Mecca. Close your eyes and repeat your noon Salah prayers without kneeling. When you open your eyes Allah will reveal to you what will be next.”

He put the phone down and complied. He had prayed before without his rug and without kneeling–on planes, in classrooms, and during battlefield training. Farsier opened his eyes after acknowledging the all-knowing and ever present Allah. A descending cradled scaffolding stopped and a smiling face looked back at him.

The window washer bowed his head and looked again at Farsier’s questioning expression. The small hole produced in the window by the silenced 9mm bullet did not shatter the glass. It went straight into Farsier’s forehead releasing Farsier to his final journey, ahead of schedule, to the Paradise of his dreams.