The Scorpion stuck the gun into his pocket and with two quick knife strokes sliced off the Hteymi’s briefs and wadded them into the Hteymi’s mouth. The Hteymi tried to grab the Scorpion’s knife with his good hand. The Scorpion reacted instantly, grabbing the Hteymi’s privates and squeezing with all his strength. The Hteymi’s eyes bulged out as a muffled scream echoed in the stall. The Scorpion placed the edge of the blade against the base of the Hteymi’s scrotum.

“Tell me the truth or they’re gone. Understand?” the Scorpion demanded, hoping it would work. The police would be barging in any second.

The Hteymi nodded fearfully, whimpering like a child. The Scorpion removed the gag. Sweat poured off the Hteymi as if he were standing in a shower.

“The king is the target, isn’t he?” the Scorpion began.

“How did …” the Hteymi began, then forced himself to stop.

The Scorpion smiled. He had the confirmation for Macready.

“Does Prince Abdul Sa’ad have the Yankee woman?” he asked.

“Please … my hand,” the man blubbered. The whimper changed to a scream as the Scorpion squeezed again.

“Yes, yes …” the Hteymi cried.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. No, really,” he screamed again, in a panicky voice. “But it is whispered that the Prince has her in his country house in the desert,” the Hteymi babbled. His eyes began to roll as the shock and loss of blood began to hit him. The Scorpion shook him like a terrier with a mouse.

“How is the king to be killed?”

“I don’t know. I swear to Allah,” the Hteymi said. He cried out again as he felt the edge of the blade against his scrotum. “Please, they don’t tell me such things. They say only that it must be public—a demonstration!”

“Of course. For all the Shiites and Hteymis and all the downtrodden to see,” the Scorpion smiled.

“Yes and soon, very soon, Master,” the Hteymi blubbered, his eyes dog-like and eager to please.

“Where and when is this great liberation supposed to take place?” the Scorpion demanded.

He saw fear and a fleeting cunning come into the Hteymi’s eyes. Incredible as it was to believe, the man was even more afraid of Abdul Sa’ad than of him. The Scorpion began to get a very bad feeling about Prince Abdul Sa’ad.

“Where?” the Scorpion snarled, putting the bloody knife to the Hteymi’s throat.

That was a mistake. The Hteymi suddenly arched his head back and then thrust himself forward, impaling himself on the blade. He sank down on the toilet, blood gurgling out of his torn throat.