RUYAH AL-BASIR bint al-Azia bin al-Saba glided her way down the rue du Faubourg Saint-Honore in Paris. She was without encumberments of any sort. She wore no niqab, hijab, burqa, rules, or husband. She was completely free.
Earlier that morning she had spoken with the scientist working in Youssef’s ‘factory’, the one she’d persuaded Nasser to sign over to her for the price of Lucinda’s life. She had wanted to personally thank them for doing such a wonderful job filling orders to America. While on the phone with them, she’d also given them very precise instructions on exactly what she wanted delivered to Iraq and Saudi Arabia.
Nasser, she’d known from overhearing Youssef’s conversations, had no idea what it was that Youssef manufactured there. “Probably, thought it was guns,” she chuckled while admiring her reflection in the Chanel storefront window.
Youssef had poured nearly all of his yearly stiffen of seven million dollars into creating the machine. A true WMD, weapon of mass destruction.
The Americans, the British, the Australians, and the Malaysians had torn Iraq apart looking for it. They had searched every lab, technical building, warehouse, school, and even Hussein’s palaces looking for WMDs. Problem was, they had no idea what Youssef’s WMD looked like or what it did. So, they searched in vain for bombs and biological weapons never suspecting the true nature of the machine.
At the next window, Ruyah stopped long enough to scrutinize a white and black striped jacket that the window dresser had paired with a knee length pleated khaki skirt, black tights, and black flats. The result was a look that was youthful, fun, and fresh. Sort of the way she was feeling now. Buoyant with possibilities.
Youssef had first tested the weapon back in 2005 with Hurricane Katrina to prove to President H. W. Bush that the fatwā he’d declared against the United States and published in a London newspaper entitled, “Declaration of War against the Americans Occupying the Land of the Two Holy Places,” was real and creditable.
He’d used the machine a second time in 2012, causing Hurricane Sandy, when the CIA had started up their search for him again.
And now all that power was in her hands. And she had her own reasons for exacting revenge against the United States, like the covert support given to Saddam Hussein during the Iraq-Iran war that lead to the chemical attack on her people, the Kurds.
She had commanded that the scientists at the factory make those cold heart bastards in Washington D.C. as cold as their greedy souls. “I want them to feel the cold sting of death. I want it nipping at their heels and knowing that it was I who did it. I want them to have to make a choice like my people had to make a choice. Stay and die. Leave and live. Make them shiver in their warm comfortable homes.”
Eliza D. Ankum
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