Cody's Army by Jim Case Page B

enough for me,” nodded Farouk to Abdel.
    Tahia felt she must say something, when she sensed Farouk and Abdel centering their speculative glare on Hallah and Najib.
    “Halla fought valiantly,” she told them. “We would all be dead or in police custody if not for Hallah.”
    Hallah remained standing on the far side of the couch from Abdel and Farouk. The youth stood with is back straight, returning
     their glare, his fingertips lingering near the front of his open jacket and the .38 pistol holstered there.
    “Thanks, Tahia,” he said, “but I can take care of myself. I’m not your traitor, may Allah damn your eyes,” he snarled at Farouk
     and Abdel, “and I’ll kill the man who says I am.”
    “Relax, my headstrong young one,” Abdel purred smoothly. “No, you are not the informer among us.”
    His eyes turned to Najib, who pulled back from the couch as the eyes of everyone there, including the wounded man, fell upon
     him.
    “
No
, it was not I!” Najib cried out, his voice rising with each word. “I could not have led the police anywhere! I have never
     been to this house before right now, you know this to be true!”
    Farouk nodded slowly, picking up the chain of accusation.
    “Which is why the police did not close in on us here,” he intoned grimly. “You did know the arms pickup. They intended to
     force Ali to tell where we were.”
    “No, I tell you,
nol”
Najib’s cry became a pleading whine. “It was not I! I am loyal!”
    “It could be no other way,” Abdel glowered with an air of finality. He reached toward a shoulder-holstered pistol beneath
     his jacket, his gaze centered unblinkingly on Najib. “We have been dealing with Christus for years. He did not cross us. This
     is your first mission, Najib. You have made it your last.”
    Najib saw what was coming and knew there was no place to run. He stumbled back a few paces until his back was against the
     wall and the whine in his throat climbed into a scream. “Please, no…Allah forgive me…I’m sorry!”
    Abdel yanked out his pistol, attaining a straight-armed target acquisition with one smooth motion as he triggered a round
     from a West German 9mm P-38 that cored Najib Yaqub’s forehead, splashing brains, blood, and skull fragments mural-like across
     the wall behind him.
    Khaled holstered his pistol before Yaqub’s body collapsed to a messy heap in the corner.
    “I would have preferred his death to be more befitting a traitor,” Abdel commented almost conversationally. “That is, particularly
     slow and humiliating, but…,” he shrugged slightly, “… we have no time to spare.”
    Tahia tore her eyes from the sight of Najib’s gory corpse, now shivering as if from an intense chill. She felt faint. Reality
     was unraveling all about her.
    There came shouting, then automatic gunfire from downstairs, at the door to the alleyway.
    Khaled unholstered his pistol again.
    “Police,” he snapped above the clatter of weapons from below.
    A three-man defense team had been set up on the building’s first level.
    Hallah crossed to the door of the room and slammed it shut; then he tilted a wooden chair against the door handle.
    “That won’t hold the swine for long,” he breathed.
    Tahia could tell he was enjoying himself like a boy playing at a game.
    Abdel moved to a throw rug across the room before an archway. He kicked the rug aside to reveal a trapdoor. He knelt and flipped
     the door open.
    “Let’s go,” he snarled. “We can still carry out the mission! We will have less firepower, the weapons we carry now, but we
     can still take over an airplane. We cannot turn back now.”
    Tahia rushed to the couch to join Farouk in starting to help Ali to his feet.
    “We’ll make it,” she breathed fiercely in Ali’s ear as she came to him, some of his blood smearing across her cheek.
    Ali shook his head weakly.
    “No…no, leave me…I’m finished anyway…I can hold them off…give me my gun, that’s all I ask… I’ll