The cold North Atlantic waters revived the victim momentarily. The last thing she saw
before sinking below the service was the moonlight spilling across the stern of the yacht
revealing it’s name: SAND STALKER.
Jamal and Omar turned around to face Kalil who had quietly walked up behind them
as they had thrown the woman overboard.
Kalil stood before Omar face to face.
“You made me look foolish before Zahid today Omar.” He shook his head, “Not a wise thing to do.”
“I am sorry Kalil, sir. I—” He stopped speaking, staring at Kalil in horror and disbelief.
Kalil had stretched out his arm raising the pistol’s barrel six inches from Omar’s forehead. With his left hand, he raised the other Egyptian cotton towel he’d taken from the stateroom unobserved on his way out, and held it between himself and Omar. Without the slightest hesitation, he pulled the trigger blowing the back of Omar’s head out to sea. The rest of the body crumpled and fell over backwards to follow. He lowered the towel and tossed the blood and brain splattered towel in after him.
He turned his attention to Jamal and raised the gun again. “Do we have an understanding or do you want to join him?”
Shaking, Jamal answered him back, “Yes sir. I mean no sir. Ah, I, I mean, yes sir we have an understanding.” He stood there, parts of his friend Omar splattered across his clothes and his pant leg wet with his own urine, waiting to be dismissed or killed...