Chapter 29
Ziad stopped in his tracks. Shlomi bumped into him, nearly knocking them both to the ground.
"Keep walking, Ziad," he said.
Ziad just stared at the man, who stood on the sidewalk and stared right back.
"It's him."
Shlomi looked. A faint hint of recognition crossed his face.
"Is that... Is that-"
"That's Mr. Patil."
It was indeed. Mr. Patil began walking towards Ziad and Shlomi. Ziad glanced around, and noticed a number of muscular men standing or sitting conspicuously inconspicuously around the patio area in front of the hotel.
Mr. Patil stopped a few feet in front of Ziad.
"Well, fancy seeing you here," he said, extending his hand.
Ziad shook his hand.
"Yeah... It's strange. What are you doing in Tehran, Mr. Patil?"
"I might ask you the same thing," he replied.
"Just overthrowing the government, no big deal."
"Uh huh."
Mr. Patil glanced at a man sitting at a table reading a book. The book was upside down. Mr. Patil nodded, and the man stood up and approached Ziad and Shlomi, reaching behind his shirt and removing a large pistol.
"Thought so," said Ziad.
Mr. Patil held his hands up in a placating gesture as he smiled patronizingly.
"You really shouldn't have murdered Number Two- you called him the Mysterious Man. I gave the Indian government the information necessary to arrest you because I wanted you for myself. Number Two never had the ability to stay on task, he was squandering your resources."
As Mr. Patil spoke at least a dozen other large men stood from their seats and gathered in a circle around Ziad and Shlomi.
"Major McCormack, now, he's dead. So is his brother, your friend, Dave McCormack," he continued, "Both killed in a tragic gas explosion in the apartment they shared with their parents in Dublin. Such a shame. The Major betrayed us, unfortunately. We don't like that."
"And you are...?" asked Shlomi.
"I am Number Three. You call me Mr. Patil, and that is also correct. I work for a very powerful organization that is working to fix the myriad of problems our broken world faces."
"So what do you want with me?" said Ziad.
"In due time, Mr. Jarrah, in due time," Mr. Patil chuckled. He nodded his head at the ring of henchmen, who began advancing slowly.
Ziad reached into his pocket, desperately looking for a weapon. He found a pen.
"Good enough."
He lunged towards Mr. Patil, grabbed his neck, twisted it to expose a large expanse of soft flesh, and drove the pen in as hard as his arms could handle.
The henchmen stopped their ominous advance in shock.
Ziad swept his hands through Mr. Patil's pockets looking for a wand. There wasn't one.
The henchmen rediscovered their courage, and pulled guns and began advancing yet again.
Shlomi took stock of the situation, a determined expression on his face. He looked at Ziad.
"Run boy, run! This world is not made for you!"
The first henchman reached Shlomi and was caught by Shlomi's fist.
"Run boy, run! They're trying to catch you!"
Ziad avoided a pair of grasping arms while trying to keep his eyes on Shlomi's inevitably doomed fight. Mr. Patil knelt on the ground, his hands groping at his wound, gasping for air as blood poured from his neck.
"Run boy run! Running is a victory!" Shlomi disappeared under a pile of henchmen.
Ziad ran.
Author's note:
So this one's a bit short, but at least it's prompt, you know what I'm sayin'?
Probably not.
Anyway, Ziad's trials are far, far, far from over.