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 A World of My Choosing   An Out-of-this-World Story by Gil Gamesh   Chapter
Seven

     Tuesday evening, when we returned from Flagstaff, I was more than
ready for a good night's sleep.  I suppose Anna was too, since I had kept
her up late for the last four nights.  She had kept me up too.

   I drove to her barracks and helped her carry her luggage from the car to
her room.  I hugged her, kissed her, and then just held her against me.  I
suppose we were both content to stand there in her room, just the two of
us, holding each other, without a word being said.  Maybe we had said it
all during the last four days.  I didn't say goodbye and I hoped she
understood why.

   I drove to my barracks, unloaded my stuff, and then returned the major's
car to his office.  The time was almost eight o'clock and I didn't expect
him to be in.  He wasn't but the kid on duty let me in his office for a
couple of minutes.  I left the car keys on his desk, along with a brief
note thanking him for helping Anna and me enjoy a wonderful vacation.

   When I returned to my barracks, I checked the bulletin board for my
orders.  I had wished more than once during the months of training for a
cell-phone or computer but they weren't permitted to the trainees.  We were
cautioned often not to communicate with anyone away from the base. 
Official orders were simply posted on a bulletin board at the entrance to
our quarters.

   At nine o'clock Wednesday morning, I was ordered to report to the
headquarters building in my dress blue uniform.  That was all that was
said. I knew what was unsaid.  I was about to undergo the exit interview
before going out on my mission.  Once again, I knew I had to convince the
interview board that I was the best man for the job.  In all likelihood, I
would be leaving in just a few days.

   <><><>

   "You really look good in your dress blues, David," the major said.  "The
Army should use your image in a recruiting poster."

   "Thank you, Sir," I answered.  We both knew why the Army couldn't use my
image, especially not in light of my mission.

   "Have you got all your service ribbons up-to-date?  I see the Purple
Heart.  Which one is for the Distinguished Service Cross?  I especially
want the review board to see it."

   I looked down and then pointed out the appropriate ribbon

   "You know you don't have to go; don't you?" the Major asked.

   "Yes, Sir, I know," I answered.

   "Forget the `sir', David," he said.  "Just think of me as a friend.  And
please call me Crash.  That was your father's name for me and don't ask me
to explain why."

   We were sitting in the major's office.  He had welcomed me warmly,
offered me a cup of coffee, which I accepted and pretended to drink.  He
told me to sit down and pulled his chair around from behind his desk and
sat down facing me.

   "I've been looking over my file on you," he said, nodding at a much-used
file a couple of inches thick on his desk.  "You're quite an interesting
young man, David.  You puzzle me.  Some of the things you've done are
difficult to believe."

   I didn't answer.  I was surprised that my file contained so many pages.

   "I'm supposed to give you an opportunity to forego the mission, David,"
he continued.  "You know that any mission we sponsor must be completely
voluntary.  Well, I'm supposed to try to talk you out of it if I can.  You
can just say you don't want to go and you'll be transferred back to regular
Army.  No one will hold it against you.  You'll just serve out your term of
service and then be given an honorable discharge."

   "I know, Crash," I answered.  "I'm going."

   "If Anna chooses not to go when they find something for her, you can get
married any time you choose.  It won't be held against her either.  Any
mission has to be absolutely voluntary.  You both know that, don't you?"

   "I told you I'm going.  You can't convince me otherwise.  We're going to
get married as soon as I come back."

   "Good.  I really like her, David.  She seems like a perfect woman for
you, a good match for you.  I hope you two have a long and happy life
together."

   "Thank you.  I hope so too."

   He sat and looked at me for a minute or so.  I sat and looked back.  I
knew I couldn't be talked out of going on my mission.  It was mine.  It was
the culmination of what I had worked toward for years.  I was going to kill
the man who killed my father and, indirectly, also killed my mother.  I
wasn't going to be talked out of it.

   "Personally, I wish you wouldn't go, David.  I really do.  Your father
and I were good friends.  It was quite a blow to me when he was killed.  I
don't want you to be killed trying to get revenge."

   "You've been a good friend to me too, Crash.  Would you give me some
honest answers to a few questions?"

   He nodded.

   "Did you help me get into the Academy?  I've always felt someone must
have since I was just seventeen and didn't exactly meet the usual
requirements.  Is that in your file?  I know that's not my service record
since they're all computerized.  It's a hard copy so you must want to keep
your file to yourself and not let anyone else see it."

   "Yes, I helped you a little bit.  Your intelligence, your maturity, your
language skills, your determination: they all helped you more.  I've been
keeping tabs on you since your father was killed.  Your grandfather and I
have had lots of conversations about you.  And you're right about the file.
It's my personal file about you."

   "Why did you do it?"

   "Your father was a great soldier, David.  He was a soldier's soldier, a
real leader, and respected by everybody.  I don't think I've ever met
another man like him, except for you.  His friendship meant a lot to me. 
When your grandfather told me you wanted to go to the Academy, I thought it
would be the start of a great career for you.  I suppose I did it for him.
I wish he and your grandmother was still alive and could know what you're
going to do."

   "If I choose to be discharged as soon as I come back, can you arrange
for Anna to be discharged too?  After I come back, I don't ever want to go
off and leave her again.  I loved my father but I don't want to be career
military.  Once I marry Anna, I don't want to be separated from her for
months at a time.

   "I don't know, David.  I'll try but I can't promise you.  Good nurses
like her are needed in military hospitals.  You know that."

   "I can live with that, as long as we're not separated."

   "If you're successful in your mission, I imagine the Army will show
enough gratitude to discharge you and Anna.  You know you're going on one
of the most important and difficult missions we've ever set up; don't you?"

   "I'll kill the mullah-fucker, Crash.  Don't worry about that.  Anna's
training is supposed to last a few more months.  Just don't let her go
anywhere else until I come back."

   "I hope you understand that we've orchestrated quite a cover story for
you.  If you succeed, it's going to be blamed on the Sunnis.  They may be
temporarily aligned with the Shi'a but the two have a centuries-long deep
hatred for each other.  Since the Sadriyun movement is the driving force
behind the war, we hope it will cause them to implode."

   "I'm going to succeed, Crash.  And I'm going to come back.  I don't
intend to use what's in the lining of that suitcase to obliterate myself."

   "You understand that if you're caught, you will have to convince them
that you're a Sunni.  No matter what they do, you can't let them know
you're U.  S.  Army."

   "I know.  I think my language skills and my training have a good chance
of fooling them."

   "Are you satisfied with the rifle you'll use?  I understand you were a
participant in designing it."

   "Yes.  I have a lot of confidence about it.  I can do the job with it."

   "How about the bullets you'll use?  I haven't heard what you decided. 
You know the Hague Convention prohibits certain kinds of ammunition, like
exploding bullets, for use by uniformed military personnel against the
uniformed military personnel of opposing forces.  You won't be in uniform
and neither will he so you can use anything you want to."

   "I'm going to use some new bullets that have just been developed.  The
projectile will be coated with an exotic alloy that's been scored to
separate into a dozen slivers.  When it makes contact with him, it'll
explode inside him and the rotational forces will send the slivers flying
like little knives all through his insides.  Most of what's in his body
cavity will turn into a thick soup."

   "I'm not trying to second-guess you, David, but why try something that
hasn't been used before?"

   "Well, there are a couple of reasons.  First and most important, I want
to make the kill.  The bullet has been thoroughly tested and it will do the
job.  I've shot more than one dead pig with it myself.  There will be a
small entry wound, but, if I'm lucky, there won't be an exit wound.  They
may initially think he's just had a heart attack.  His black robes will
probably hide any sign of where the bullet hit."

   "OK.  What's the second reason?"

   "I'm hoping it will give me time to get out of town before they discover
what's happened.  There's supposed to be a taxi waiting for me when I exit
the hotel.  The driver will know the best way to get me back down to the
coast.  The Israelis who brought me in are supposed to be there to take me
back out to the sub."

   He sighed deeply.  "Well, if anybody can do it, I suppose you can.  Now
can I tell you something personal?"

   "Sure."

   "David, I've never married so I don't have kids.  I wish now I had.  I
wish I had a son like you.  Your father would be proud of you."

   "I hope so."

   He stood up and held out his hand to me.

   "Would you let me be sort of an adopted father to you?" he asked,
extending his hand and almost choking up.  "When you come back, would you
let me help you and Anna with anything you need or want?"

   I stood up too, took his hand, and shook it.  I resisted the urge to hug
him.

   "Yes, we'd both be honored, Crash.  Maybe you could be my best man at
our wedding.

   He smiled broadly.  "I'd like that.  Are you ready for the Review
Board?"

   "Yeah!"

   <><><>

   The insertion into Islamistan, the name the jihadists were using for
what were originally Iran, Iraq, and a bunch of countries ending in stan,
went off without a hitch.  The major and I flew military transport to a
base in Germany, spent one night resting, then flew in a fighter aircraft
over the Suez Canal, down the Red Sea, to a Navy carrier in the Indian
Ocean off the coast of Somalia.  I think I left a brown stain on my seat
when I saw what we were landing on.  We spent another night and day on
board the carrier before being transferred just ab0ut sunset to a submarine
that usually patrolled for pirates.

   The sub immediately left its station, entered the Arabian Sea, and moved
through the Gulf of Oman and on into the Persian Gulf.  During the last
part of the trip, I learned how tense a sub crew could get when they're
trying to avoid mines.

   The major and I had a three-man stateroom, about as big as a closet, all
to ourselves in the officers' berthing quarters.  I couldn't understand why
it was called a stateroom until I saw where the enlisted men slept.  I
didn't ask where the original three officers were sleeping for the two
nights we were aboard.  At the Captain's suggestion, I choose the top of
the three bunks.  He said there would be what he called white noise from
some of the overhead pipes so that bunk was the best one.

   We ate our meals with the captain of the sub in the officers' mess. 
There were no questions from the other officers about why two Army officers
in uniform were being accorded such special treatment.  I wondered what
they would think when I left the sub just before dawn of my last day,
especially the way I would be dressed.

   The major had been supplied with sleeping pills for me but I had
declined them when he offered them aboard the aircraft carrier.  I knew I
wouldn't need any sleeping aid for my nights on the sub.  If necessary, I
intended to give myself one of the same sleeping pills Anna had given me
the night after the endurance trials.

   My last night on board the sub, I took off my uniform, carefully packed
it away for the Major's return, crawled naked into the top bunk, and pulled
the curtains closed.  I lay there for a few minutes, thinking about my
mission, then reached down to my penis and stroked it a few times.  It was
slow to cooperate until I recalled some of the memories of when Anna and I
were in Flagstaff.  After sifting through them, I settled on the memories
of our Sunday evening together.

   <><><>

   As soon as we were back in our hotel room, we started stripping.  We
were dirty and sweaty from walking and climbing around Indian ruins.  I
assumed Anna was as ready for a long shower as I was.  I beat her in
getting down to my birthday suit so I waited for a moment for her to strip.
I got to watch her teasingly reveal her beautiful body to me again.

   "It's your turn this time," she said.  "Would you shampoo my hair?"

   "Yeah, I'd like that," I answered.  "May I bathe you too?"

   She nodded.  I held out my hand to her and we went hand-in-hand into the
bathroom.  She wasn't shy in front of me.  While I watched, she sat down on
the commode, sighed deeply, and squirted noisily down into the bowl.  She
even raised the seat for me.  I took my turn and, I'll admit, put on a show
for her.  I pulled my foreskin back, aimed for the center of the bowl,
drilled the target, shook my penis more than really necessary, slid my
foreskin back down, and finally looked back at her.  She was grinning.  She
knew I'd been showing off.

   We played at bathing each other, using the shower over the Jacuzzi this
time.  I think we were both eager to do something else other than bathing,
certainly not in soaking in the Jacuzzi.  Before we finished, my penis was
pointing up at a forty-five degree angle.  I don't know how aroused Anna
was but her vagina was already hot and wet when I slipped my finger into
it. She didn't even stop to blow-dry her hair.  She took my penis in her
hand and led me back into the bedroom.  I sat leaned back on my hands on
the foot of the bed, with my penis staring at the ceiling, and watched
while she did those things that women do to get ready for bed.

   "Can we do something silly tonight, David?" she asked.  "I don't think
either of us has looked in the mirror the last two nights.  I want be slow
and easy tonight and see how we look in the mirror."

   "Yeah, it's OK with me.  Just tell me what you want me to do."

   "Let's take turns," she suggested.  "I'll make up something first and
then you have to think up something different."

   "OK, but I want to go first," I said, remembering something.

   I watched in appreciation as she toweled her hair dry.  I especially
liked the way her breasts looked when he had her arms raised.  Her nipples
looked like they were pointing up at the same angle as my penis.  I watched
her and didn't complain when she took her time in brushing her hair.  I
didn't complain when she dried my hair and tried to rub my ears off.  Then
she brushed it and I especially liked having her nipples just inches from
my mouth.

   "Did your dick enjoy the show I put on for it?" she asked.

   "Yeah, it thinks you're sexy as hell and it wants to fuck you," I
answered.

   "Well, you've got to call it a dick tonight like I do.  That's a real
king-size dick and I think it ought to get recognized and then satisfied."

   "Yeah!  Dick likes Anna's pussy.  Can he come in it?"

   "Yeah!  As many times as he can stand up."

   I took my first turn by lying on the foot of the bed, with my legs bent
and my feet on the floor.  I coaxed her into straddling my head, with her
pussy above my face.  She assumed the position and then checked to see that
she could see herself reflected in the mirror.  I couldn't see but I didn't
want to.  I wanted this one to be for her.  I put my hands on her hips,
pulled her down to my waiting tongue, manipulated her into position, and
gave her a good licking.  I assumed she was watching me going
lickety-split.

   When she took her first turn, she made me lie crossways on the bed with
a pillow under my head and my hands together on my stomach.  She kneed my
legs apart, crawled between them, and gave my penis a good sucking.  I lay
there with my eyes like slits, watching her, not the mirror, thoroughly
enjoying every lick and suck and stroke.  She turned her head and pushed my
penis off to one side, trying to see how we looked, and I didn`t complain.
I didn't bother to look; I was too busy loving every second of what she was
doing.

   When it came my turn again, I had already decided on something I wanted
to try.  She didn't object when I made her lie across the center of the
bed. She just checked to see that she could see her reflection in the big
mirror.  When I stuffed a pillow under her head and another under her hips,
she smiled at me.  I suppose she thought I was going to go down on her
again.  That wasn't what I had in mind.

   She looked skeptical when I squeezed the bottle of sex lube and
dispensed a generous amount on my fingers.  She still didn't protest when I
liberally wiped the lube from her asshole all the way to her mons.  She
looked puzzled when I spread her legs and knee-walked between them, holding
the bottle of lube.  She looked even more puzzled when I took her right
hand in mine, turned it palm up, and squeezed more lube in her palm.

   I slowly lowered myself down on her without attempting to insert my dick
into her, and then asked her to lift her legs in the air.  The position was
perfect for what I had in mind.  I lowered myself down farther, still
supporting my torso on my arms over her so I could see, until my dick was
pressed against her pussy.  It was going to work.  I looked up at her and
smiled.  She was still holding her right hand with its palm full of lube
off to one side.

   "Put your right hand on the shaft of my dick and press down, please," I
whispered.

   When she did, I began to slowly slide my dick back and forth under her
palm and against her pussy.  With all the lube, it worked perfectly.  Each
time I pushed forward, my foreskin was pushed back off the head of my dick
and stretched back almost painfully.  The head of my dick was also rubbing
against her little lips and her clit.  When I pulled back, my foreskin was
pulled forward until part of the head was covered.  The slipping and
sliding and rubbing back and forth was damn good as far as I was concerned.
I didn't know whether she liked it as much as I did but, when I looked up
at her face, I saw she was watching the action and the smile on her face
said she liked it too.

   She looked up at my face.  "Damn, David, this is good.  We're not
fucking but even not fucking is fucking good; isn't it?"

   Holding myself up on my arms so we could both watch, I slid back and
forth again.  "Yeah, it's good.  I like not fucking you.  I like fucking
you better."

   I slowly slid my dick back and forth between her palm and her pussy a
few more times and then stopped for a moment.  Anna was watching us in the
mirror, completely engrossed in the reflection.  I felt a bump with the
head of my dick as I slid forward and I wondered if that was her clitoris.
That's what I wanted: to rub the head of my dick against her erect clit
until I made her come.

   "If you feel like you're coming, can you grab my dick and stuff it in
your pussy?  I'm going to give you your first real fucking of the night," I
asked.

   "And later tonight, you're going to give me my second real fucking of
the night," she answered turning to look up at me.  I loved the look on her
face

   "Yeah!"

   "And then later, you're going to give me my third!"

   "We'll see.  Think you can get it up?"

   "Yeah!  I'll bet you I can.

   She shut her eyes and so I did too.  I knew she wanted to lose herself
in what she was feeling and that was what I wanted too.  I moved back and
forth and gradually got faster and faster.  I wondered if I was going to
come before she did.

   Suddenly she grabbed my dick, bent it down while I pulled it back, and,
when I pushed forward, it slid into her in one juicy hot and so damn good
slide.  I held still for a second until she got her legs wrapped around my
ass and her arms around my chest, and then I gave her the first good
fucking of the night.  I couldn't tell whether she came but, from the way
she wiggled, I suppose she did.  I came in a series of gushers and squirted
the life out of me onto her cervix again.

   <><><>

   I used the damp towel I had brought with me into the top bunk to wipe my
semen off my face, chest, and stomach.  I hadn't squirted like that in a
long time.  I didn't worry about what to do with the towel.  I stuck my
hand out of the curtains and dropped it on the floor.  Let the major clean
it up.  I turned over on my left side and I was asleep in a few minutes.

   For breakfast the next morning, I had a huge steak, grilled exactly the
way I wanted it, three fried eggs, a stack of toast, some hash-browns, a
big mug of orange juice, and another of milk.  It had to last me all day.
The enlisted man who served me couldn't believe that I would turn down
coffee.  He probably wondered why I was in a robe, quite evidently naked
underneath since my legs and feet were bare, eating with an Army Major and
a Navy Commander, who was Captain of the ship.

   Afterwards, the major and I returned to our stateroom so he could help
me get ready to leave the submarine.  I took off the robe and lay down
naked on the lower bunk.  The major carefully applied a fake scar that ran
from below my right knee almost to my hip.  Next he strapped Big Boy and
Little Boy, in their scabbard, around my thigh on the inside of my leg.

   Shortly after Grandfather gave me the knives, I'd made the scabbard at
his directions, two short belts that could be used to secure the scabbard
around my upper and lower thigh or could be combined to strap it around my
waist.

   I saw the major grinning while I held my testicles out of the way so he
could secure the upper strap.  I couldn't imagine what he thought was
funny.

   "Why are you grinning?" I asked him.

   "You're your father's son," he answered.  "You're hung just like he was.
I hope Anna enjoys it."

   "She does," I said, grinning back at him.

   He picked up the pieces of the brace for my right leg and started
assembling it on me.  It extended from my ankle all the way to my hip and
made me walk with one straight leg.  Its purpose was to provide a cover for
my knives.  I had to have an excuse for any metal detectors.

   "Your body is just like his too, hard and muscular.  Maybe you're a
little bit taller.  We used to shower together with a bunch of guys when we
were training.  He intimidated most guys without trying to.  He was all
man, like you, and they never wanted to get too close to him.  I suppose
they didn't want to be compared to him."

   "I loved my father, Crash."

   "I know.  He loved you too, David.  While we were serving together, he
talked a lot about his wife and son and he loved to tell me tales of what
his blunderbuss had done.  He really loved your mother.  Lots of guys were
unfaithful while we were away from home.  He never was.  I hope you're
going to be the same way with Anna."

   "I will be.  I want to be with her the rest of my life.  I can't imagine
doing anything to hurt her."

   "Good.  See if you can stand up."

   I struggled to my feet and looked down at my right leg.  I knew I had to
get accustomed to the hilt of Big Boy being nestled under my testicles.  I
had already worn the brace a few times.  It was uncomfortable as hell but
it was an important part of my disguise.  I knew I could endure it for a
few days.

   "I suppose it looks OK," the major said.  "From the side, it looks like
the scabbard could be part of the brace.  Are you ready for the good
stuff?"

   He opened the part of my disguise that I hated the most: a noisome
greasy mixture that I called "the shit" and that smelled like shit, sweat,
old sex, and a few other scents designed to repel anybody with a nose.

   "Can you do my back, sweetie?" I asked, turning around.

   "Fuck you, honey," he replied but he dipped his fingers in the mess and
rubbed it on my back and legs.  I turned around, dipped my fingers in it
and rubbed it on the rest of me.  He grinned when I rubbed a little of the
shit on my penis and testicles and in the crack of my ass.

   The major opened the package containing the clothing I was to wear and
passed each item to me.  It was a combination of traditional clothing worn
in the area combined with a ragged Iranian soldier's coat and boots, to
give the impression that I had been in the Iranian Army.  When I was fully
dressed, I turned around and let the major inspect me.  He rubbed some more
of the shit on my clothes and then went to the small sink and gave his
hands a good scrubbing.

   "They had some trouble finding boots large enough for your feet," the
Major said.

   I walked around the small compartment, testing the way I could move and
the way the boots felt on my feet.  Someone had done a good job on finding
the old boots.  They felt like they were worn in by my own feet.

   The major handed me a well-worn copy, in Farsi, of the Hadith and
grinned.  "Something for you to read on your bus trip." I didn't tell him I
was barely literate in reading Farsi even though I could speak it fluently.

   "Are you sure you can identify al-Badr at such a distance," the major
asked.

   "Yeah, you already know how good my eyesight is and the new scope is
great.  The bastard's a big man and he always dresses in black robes and a
black turban.  That's so everybody will think he's a descendant of
Mohammed. To me, it just makes him a better target."

   The major glanced at his watch.  "We should be meeting the fishing boat
in about ten minutes.  The captain's going to surface just the conning
tower and you'll exit through it.  You'll have a little rubber dingy to go
to the fishing boat.  The sea is smooth this morning so you should have no
trouble.  The crew of the fishing boat's all Israelis, old men but they can
be trusted.  I know you know about all the arrangements but are you
comfortable with all of them?"

   "Yeah, I've been over them enough," I said.  "I'm OK with everything."

   "Take care of yourself, David," he said.  "I'd hug you but you smell
like shit."

   The Israelis didn't talk to me as we chugged our way to the small
fishing village.  They were a rag-tag bunch of old men who conversed
fluently in Farsi, griping about how poor their catch was and how little
they would receive for it.  I found it hard to believe their true
nationality.

   In the fishing village, I found the bus station without any trouble,
bought my ticket, and then sat down on a bench to wait for the bus. 
Keeping my braced leg straight, I leaned over, pulled my loose pants up
above the knee, and pretended to rub my leg.  When I quit, I made sure to
leave the pants leg high enough for part of the brace to show.  I was
almost accustomed to the smell of the shit but others weren't.  The scent
did its job; nobody talked to me and everybody went out of their way to
avoid me.

   I grabbed the lead position in the queue waiting for the bus and
struggled to get on board with my bad leg.  I picked an aisle seat toward
the rear so I could keep my leg straight.  Nobody asked to sit in the
window seat.  In the afternoon, on the last leg of my bus trip, I again had
an empty seat to my left and nobody asked to sit with me so the shit was
doing its job.

   I opened my copy of the Hadith and was ready to pretend to read when I
saw two men enter the bus and start slowly walking toward the back,
checking the passengers.  I pegged them as religious or cultural police and
I knew I had to put on a good act.  One of them kicked me, not too gently,
on my straight leg and told me to move it.  I reached down, pulled my loose
pants up to my knee, and told him I couldn't straighten it, thanks to the
infidels' bombs, and that was why it was in the aisle.  He just grunted and
walked on to the back of the bus.

   I heard one of them tell somebody to get out of their seats and then an
old man and a young boy came forward in the bus and found two separate
seats.  I wanted to offer to move so the grandfather and his grandson could
sit together but that would have made me sit beside someone else.

   The hotel was as bad as I had been told it would be.  It supposedly
catered to the pilgrims who came to visit the shrine.  The room was exactly
as I expected it to be.  I had spent many hours in the replica back at our
desert base, sitting in a chair looking out through the shuttered window,
over an expanse of desert scrubland, at the distant mock-up of the temple
doors.  I walked across the room to the window and pushed the shutters
slightly ajar.  This time I saw the expanse of pavement that surrounded the
temple, then the temple, and then the huge doors from which my target would
exit tomorrow after noon prayers.  The only things in the room were the
bed, an old wardrobe, a table, and one straight chair.  I went to the
wardrobe, reached up over the top, and felt the suitcase I expected to be
there.  I pulled it down, laid it on the table, and carefully opened it.  I
pushed the right catch release three times - inward, the wrong way - and
heard three faint clicks and I knew the explosive device in the suitcase
lining had been disabled.  Then I pushed the right and left catches
simultaneously - the right way, outward - and lifted the lid of the
suitcase.  My rifle, in all its parts, lay there but something else had
been added.  There was a pistol, not new, not anything I recognized, but I
assumed one that an Iranian solder might have.  I checked the gun and found
one bullet already loaded and ten more in the clip.  I was glad someone had
given me the little present.  I stuck it in the pocket of my coat, hoping I
would not need it.  I closed the suitcase, put it back on top of the
wardrobe, looked out the window until darkness fell, and then decided it
was time I went to bed.

   I went to a corner of the room, pissed on the floor, then went to the
bed and lay down, fully clothed.  I lay there chewing on the hard bread and
dried jerky meat, probably goat, which I had bought on my walk to the
hotel. After a while, I got up, turned out the light, went back to the bed,
and finally managed to sleep.

   All morning, I sat in the chair, behind the table, looking out the
window in the direction of the shrine, patiently waiting.  I watched as
al-Badr arrived and was quickly escorted into the shrine.  I kept an eye on
my watch and, fifteen minutes before mid-day prayers were to be over, I
retrieved the suitcase from the hiding place on top of the old wardrobe,
positioned it in the center of the table, and waited.

   I was about to open the suitcase when I heard a knock on the door.  I
ignored it at first and, when the knock turned into a pounding, I knew I
had to open it.  When I did, one of the religious police I had seen on the
bus stood there.  I glanced down the hallway behind him, expecting to see
the other one since they usually ran in pairs.  I didn't see another one
but I assumed he was somewhere nearby.

   He looked at me, cursed me repeatedly as an idiot, "Boop, boop, boop,"
and I had to smile like an idiot since boop is Farsi for idiot and it was
funny for him to be sounding like a steamboat.  He looked beyond me at the
suitcase on the table, and then pushed me aside and started toward the
suitcase.  I was already cool.  As the time came closer to noon, my cool
state had been steadily increasing.  Now, suddenly, I was as cool as I had
been in a street firing my rifle seven times.

   When he walked past me, I slid my right hand down in my loose pants,
pulled out Big Boy, and stepped behind him.  He opened his mouth as though
he was going to yell for his partner but I cut him off.  I swung Big Boy
around in front of him and made one hard swipe with my knife across his
throat.  At the same time I put my left hand in the center of his back and
shoved him as hard as I could.  Fountaining blood, his body bounced off the
wall and collapsed in a flailing heap on the floor.  His head was turned at
an odd angle and I saw that it was almost severed from his body.  Either my
cool strength was too much or Big Boy's sharp blade had slid between two
vertebrae in his neck.

   In my cool state, it seemed that I had been able to leisurely swing Big
Boy around to gently kiss the throat of the religious policeman and for me
to shove him away to avoid the fountain of blood from his body.  In
reality, I knew that I had done all of it in a split second.  I forced
myself to forget about him and to get back to the immediate task.  I closed
and locked the door, sat down at the table, and carefully opened the
suitcase.  In much less than a minute I assembled the rifle, loaded it, and
positioned it on its bipod at the end of the table.  I looked through the
scope, and sighted in the huge double doors of the Imam al-Hussein Shrine.
When the Grand Ayatollah Muqtada al-Bada came out these doors, I was going
to kill him I saw his convoy of cars and trucks park near the exit he was
going to use and knew that he would be out within a minute or two.  I knew
that, if just one door of the double doors opened, he was about to exit. 
Just as I was concentrating on homing in on the door, there was another
knock on the door to my room.  I ignored it and waited.  The knock turned
into a pounding and I yelled for the person to wait, that I had to put my
brace on my leg so I could walk.  The pounding stopped.

   This is for you, Grandfather and Grandmother, to avenge the loss of your
beloved son, I thought.  This is for you Father and Mother, to avenge your
deaths.  Your son is about to kill the Grand Ayatollah Muqtada al-Bada in
revenge for your deaths.

   The single door on the right side slowly opened and there he was.  As I
expected, someone else had come out first and was holding the door open for
al-Badr.  I fired one round and, before it could hit, had inserted another
in case I missed him.  I knew that I was cooler than I had ever been and
that in my heightened state I had to be patient.  When I saw him clutch his
chest, I knew that my single bullet had exploded inside him and was turning
everything in him into a thick soup.  I waited until I saw him collapse to
the pavement.

   I yelled for the one outside my door to wait just another minute longer
and then quickly disassembled my rifle and put it back in the suitcase.  I
closed the suitcase, knowing that it was set to explode if the right
procedure wasn't followed when someone opened it.  Then I reached in my
coat pocket, pulled out the pistol and dropped it down to my side, went to
the door, took a couple of deep breaths, and opened it.  I expected to see
the other religious policeman and I knew I had to keep him out of the room
or he would see the bloody body of the other one.  I saw the other
religious policeman but, behind him, were three other individuals

   I tried to step outside the room but the policeman shoved me back.  I
knew what I had to do.  I stuck the pistol in his face and fired one shot.
The other three tried to turn and run but I managed to fire three more
times before they could get out of the hallway and they all went down.

   All hell broke loose.  I heard shouting and cursing and I stood there,
still aiming the pistol down the hallway and trying to think what I could
do.  Another bearded face appeared around the corner at the end of the
hallway, registered horror, and I head shot him before he could pull back.

   I shut the door, locked it, and went to the window, hoping I might be
able to escape that way.  No luck.  There were cars and trucks parked below
and I knew they didn't belong to any of the pilgrims.  I was turning back
to the door to my room when an explosion in the hall blew the door down.  I
stood there, looking down the hallway, determined to shoot anyone who poked
his head around the corner.

   No one did.  Instead, a hand quickly threw something down the hallway
and it rolled into my room.  I knew it would explode in a split second and
a crazy mixture of emotions crowded in on me.  I was angry because I'd had
control of my life taken away from me.  I had dreamed of somehow finding a
life with Anna and having what I so desperately needed: peace and quiet and
the love of a good woman.  I knew when I was selected to kill the Grand
Ayatollah that there was more than a little probability I'd never have a
life with her.  I had hung onto the possibility until the realization hit
me even harder that there would be no more life for me.  When the explosion
filled the room, I felt calm knowing that oblivion would be my release.

   Then something totally unexpected happened.  I thought death was
embracing me and I felt myself being pulled backward and everything in the
room grew smaller and smaller and faded away.  I was confused, thinking
that the explosion had destroyed my body and that my consciousness was
fading but somehow I didn't feel any pain.  All I felt was an experience of
being pulled backwards at a rapidly increasing speed and I wondered where I
was going and if that was the way dying felt.  I tried to cry out Anna's
name but I couldn't.  All sensory input slowed down and stopped and
blackness enveloped me and that was the last I knew.
   TO BE CONTINUED