Fortunes Obsession Read Online Free PDF Page A

spent administering to Fahd and to be by herself
    was a delicious prospect.  She pushed the button on the elevator and waited for it to arrive at the thirty ninth floor.
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         Peter sat in his office performing calculations on a slide rule.  Even in these days of computers, he enjoyed the now antiquated instrument at times when he was contemplating changes that required quick calculations.
         There was a new addition on his wall.  In a prominent place , centrally located on the wall directly in front of his desk, was an eighteen by twenty four inch blow up of the park bench shot.  The eight adults and one child were in various stages of animation and the two men on the left each had one hand on the other's briefcase.
    The photo became a conversation piece whenever anyone came into his office, especially Lance Corning.  The photo was an obsession for both of them.  People would come in and discuss all of the people in the shot, all of them interesting in their own way but the conversation would always turn to the two men with their hands on each other's case.
         Peter looked at his watch.  It was only five fifteen but he had a splitting headache from a tension ridden day.  Much later, he thought of that moment and of what hidden force made him leave the office at a time at least an hour earlier than usual.  Fate works in many ways but the building blocks that fell into place from this moment on were mind boggling.
         Peter stood at the elevator at the thirtieth floor and
    patiently waited for the car to arrive.
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         Mustafa weaved the Mercedes limousine as deftly as possible through the Manhattan rush hour traffic.  Fahd did not have the documents with him as that was tantamount to an invitation to kill him and steal them.  He had instead, an in depth description of each drawing and specification, which had been prepared by Farley Collins prior to the exchange in the park.
         He was meeting with the top leaders of a terrorist organization that had it's roots firmly planted in the United States, with branches in Detroit and New Jersey.  These organizations were planning various acts of terrorism calculated to bring America, the Great Satan, to it's knees.  He was decidedly nervous about this meeting, which would be with Ali Bokaar and two other men, whom he had not yet met.  Their names were Ishmael Bey and Faisal Mahdi.  These men were not known for their gentility or compassion. They were known far and wide as killers who enjoyed their work.  Ibrahim wondered if he should have brought Mustafa with him for protection but their orders were clear.  He was to come alone.
    It was also made clear that if someone were with him, following closely, clandestinely,  they would kill them both.
         They reached LaGuardiaAirport just in time for the last evening flight to Detroit.  A first class ticket was reserved for him and picked up at the counter.  He brought enough changes of clothing for two nights, just in case.  As soon as the plane took off, he ordered a double cognac and sipped, contemplating the
    newly found wealth that was waiting for him.  Afterwards, he closed his eyes and fell into a sound sleep, which lasted until the descent into Detroit.
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         The three swarthy men sat around a table in a suite on the top floor of the Airport Marriot.  The hotel was quite convenient as it was physically located inside the airport terminal building.  Ali Bokaar, who was attired in a business suit, removed his jacket and loosened his tie.  He drank vodka in a water glass filled to the brim with no ice.  The other two men drank Perrier water.  Ishmael
    Bey was a slightly built man, much younger than all of the others involved.  He was handsome and wore his suit well.  It had