Chapters (47)
- Cover Page
- Praise for the Writing of Andrew Kaplan
- Title Page
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- PART ONE
- Paris
- Pakistan
- Bahrain
- Place of the Tombs
- Sar
- Manama
- Arabia
- Moscow
- Doha
- Washington
- PART TWO
- Arabia, 1951
- Moscow
- Arabia, 1951
- Al Aramah
- Arabia, 1956
- Al Aramah
- Arabia, 1962
- Riyadh
- Arabia, 1962
- Al Aramah
- Riyadh
- Washington
- PART THREE
- al Hofuf
- Wadi Haradh
- Riyadh
- The Race
- The Ruins of Dariyyah
- The Well of Death
- Ascent
- The Citadel
- The Sands of Dahna
- Bub al Bahrain
- PART FOUR
- Watergate
- Dallas
- Ein Gev
- Moscow
- EPILOGUE
- About the Author
The Scorpion watched the drop finally fall from Harris’ nose. After a second, he stepped away and released the hammer on the. 38. He stood for a moment, silhouetted against the skylight. The hell of it was that everything Harris said made sense.
“I have a little business to take care of and then I’m going to see her again,” he said, not looking at Harris.
Harris exhaled loudly like a diver coming up for air. “Am I to assume that an off-year election to fill Ormont’s soon-to-be-vacated congressional seat is anticipated?” he asked innocently.
The Scorpion said nothing.
“He won’t be missed. Not by anyone. Especially Kelly,” Harris added.
“You never had her, you know. It was all bullshit. You’re not the kibbutz type,” the Scorpion said, turning to face Harris.
“Do you know where she’s going?” Harris asked.
“I can make a pretty educated guess.”
“It won’t work, you two,” Harris insisted.
“I know,” the Scorpion said.
“Then why? Why dig it all up?”
The Scorpion shrugged, then turned, a boyish smile dimpling his right cheek. “I’m sentimental,” he said.
Harris grunted and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. His hands ached fiercely from the knots and he knew it would take hours to undo them and get help, which was precisely the head start the Scorpion wanted. His mouth hurt viciously from the kick. He explored a loose tooth with his tongue and wondered if it could be saved. He looked up at the Scorpion.
“You know what your problem is, Scorpion? You’re a romantic!” Harris declared triumphantly.
“And you’re not, Bob. That’s your weakness. ”
Dallas
Dallas
DALLAS (UPI)—Congressman Max Ormont (R-Tex) plunged to his death from the balcony of his high-rise penthouse early this morning. Paramedics from Dallas Memorial pronounced him dead at the scene at 11:53 p.m.
The multimillionaire oilman-turned-politician had returned to Dallas for a political fundraiser before leaving on a fact-finding trip to the Soviet Union, police officials said. Preliminary indications are that the congressman may have been drinking. However, determination of the cause of death is pending the coroner’s report.
“There appears to be no evidence of foul play, but our investigation is continuing,” said Daryl Dobson, chief of homicide.
There were no witnesses to the incident.
The congressman is survived by a daughter. She could not be reached for comment.
Ein Gev
Ein Gev
THE RESTAURANT WAS on a tiny spit of land sandwiched between the sheer ridge of the Golan and the lake. Two wooden fishing boats belonging to the kibbutz were turned upside-down on the rocky beach bordering the terrace. During the day fishermen from the kibbutz fished for the small bony St. Peter’s fish which made the restaurant famous.