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Chapters (47)
  1. Cover Page
  2. Praise for the Writing of Andrew Kaplan
  3. Title Page
  4. Dedication
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. PART ONE
  7. Paris
  8. Pakistan
  9. Bahrain
  10. Place of the Tombs
  11. Sar
  12. Manama
  13. Arabia
  14. Moscow
  15. Doha
  16. Washington
  17. PART TWO
  18. Arabia, 1951
  19. Moscow
  20. Arabia, 1951
  21. Al Aramah
  22. Arabia, 1956
  23. Al Aramah
  24. Arabia, 1962
  25. Riyadh
  26. Arabia, 1962
  27. Al Aramah
  28. Riyadh
  29. Washington
  30. PART THREE
  31. al Hofuf
  32. Wadi Haradh
  33. Riyadh
  34. The Race
  35. The Ruins of Dariyyah
  36. The Well of Death
  37. Ascent
  38. The Citadel
  39. The Sands of Dahna
  40. Bub al Bahrain
  41. PART FOUR
  42. Watergate
  43. Dallas
  44. Ein Gev
  45. Moscow
  46. EPILOGUE
  47. 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.