CHAPTER 35

Asad Khalil found himself on a busy road lined with motels, car rentals, and fast food restaurants. A huge aircraft was landing at the nearby airport.

They had told him in Tripoli to find a motel near the Jacksonville International Airport, where neither his appearance nor his license plate would attract attention.

He saw a pleasant-looking place called Sheraton, a name he recognized from Europe, and he pulled into the parking lot, then drove up to the sign that said MOTOR INN-REGISTRATION.

He straightened his tie, brushed his hair with his fingers, put on his glasses, and went inside.

The young woman behind the registration counter smiled and said, "Good evening."

He smiled and returned the greeting. He could see that there were passageways in the lobby, and one of them said BAR-LOUNGE-RESTAURANT. He heard music and laughter coming through the door.

He said to the woman, "I would like a room for one night, please."

"Yes, sir. Standard or deluxe?"

"Deluxe."

She gave him a registration form and pen and said, "How would you like to pay for that, sir?"

"American Express." He took out his wallet and handed her the credit card as he filled out the registration form.

Boris had told him that the better the establishment, the fewer problems there would be, especially if he used the credit card. He hadn't wanted to leave a paper trail, but Boris assured him that if he used the card sparingly, it would be safe.

The woman handed him a credit card slip with the impression of his card on it and gave him back his American Express card. He signed the slip and pocketed his card.

Khalil completed the registration form, leaving blank the spaces concerning his vehicle, which they had told him in Tripoli he could ignore in the finer establishments. He was also told that, unlike Europe, there was no space for his passport number on the registration form, and the clerk would not even ask to see it. Apparently, it was an insult to be taken for a foreigner, no matter how foreign one looked. Or perhaps, as Boris said, "The only passport you need in America is American Express."

In any case, the desk clerk glanced at his registration form and asked nothing further of him. She said, "Welcome to the Sheraton, Mr…"

"Bay-dear," he pronounced.

"Mr. Bay-dear. Here's your electronic key card to Room One-Nineteen, ground floor, to your right as you leave the lobby." She went on in a monotone, "This is your guest folder and here's your room number on the folder. The bar and restaurant are right through that door, we have a fitness center and a swimming pool, checkout time is eleven A.M., breakfast is served in the main dining room from six to eleven A.M., room service is available from six A.M. to midnight, the dining room is closing for dinner shortly, the bar and lounge are open until one A.M., and light snacks are available. There is a mini-bar in your room. Would you like a wake-up call?"

Khalil understood her accent, but barely understood all this useless information. He did understand wake-up calls and said, "Yes, I have a flight at nine A.M., so perhaps six A.M. would be good."

She was looking at him, openly, unlike a Libyan woman, who avoided eye contact with men. He maintained eye contact with her, as he was told to do to avoid suspicion, but also to see if she showed any hint that she knew who he was. But she seemed completely unaware of his true identity.

She said, "Yes, sir, wake-up call at six A.M. Would you like express checkout?"

He had been told to say yes if asked that question, that this type of checkout would mean he did not have to return to the desk. He replied, "Yes, please."

"A copy of your bill will be placed under your door by seven A.M. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thank you."

"Have a pleasant stay."

"Thank you." He smiled, took his folder, turned and left the lobby.

This had gone well, better than the last time he checked into the motel outside of Washington, he reflected, and had to kill the desk clerk. He smiled again.

Asad Khalil got into his car and drove to the door marked 119 where a parking space sat empty. He retrieved his overnight bag, got out of the car, locked it, and went to the door. He put his keycard into the slot, and the door lock hummed and clicked as a green light came on, reminding him of the Conquistador Club.

He went inside and closed and bolted the door behind him.

Khalil inspected the room, closets, and bathroom, which were clean and modern, but perhaps too comfortable for his taste. He preferred austere surroundings, especially for this Jihad. As a religious man once told him, "Allah will hear you as well if you pray in a mosque with a full belly or the desert with an empty belly-but if you want to hear Allah, go hungry to the desert."

That advice notwithstanding, Khalil was hungry. He'd had very little to eat since the day before he turned himself into the American Embassy in Paris, which was nearly a week ago.

He glanced at the room service menu, but decided not to invite another look at his face. Very few people had seen him up close, and most of them were dead.

He opened the mini-bar and found a can of orange juice, a plastic bottle of Vitelle water, a jar of mixed nuts, and a bar of Toblerone chocolate, which he always enjoyed in Europe.

He sat in the armchair facing the door, still fully dressed with both Clocks in his pockets. He ate and drank slowly.

As he ate, he thought back to his short stay at the American Embassy in Paris. They had been suspicious of him, but not hostile. A military officer and a man in civilian clothes had initially questioned him, and the next day, two other men-who had identified themselves only as Philip and Peter-had arrived from America, telling him they would escort him safely to Washington. Khalil knew this was a lie on both counts-they would go to New York, not Washington, and neither Philip nor Peter would arrive safely.

The night before his departure, they had drugged him, as Boutros said they would, and Khalil had allowed that, so as not to arouse suspicion. He wasn't certain what they had done to him while he was drugged, but it was of no importance. He had been drugged by Libyan Intelligence in Tripoli and questioned, to see if he was able to withstand the effects of these so-called truth drugs. He had passed this test with no problems.

He had been told that the Americans would probably not subject him to a lie detector test in the embassy-the diplomats wanted him out of the embassy as soon as possible. But if asked to take such a test, he should refuse and demand to go to America or to be released. In any case, the Americans had acted predictably and gotten him out of the embassy and out of Paris as quickly as possible.

As Malik had said, "You are wanted for questioning by the French, the Germans, the Italians, and the British. The Americans know this and want you for themselves only. They will get you out of Europe as soon as possible. They almost always take the most sensitive cases to New York, so they can deny that they are holding a defector or a spy in Washington. There are, I think, other psychological and perhaps practical reasons why they go to New York. Eventually, they intend to take you to Washington -but I think you can get there without their help."

Everyone in the room had laughed at Malik's humor. Malik was very eloquent, and also used humor to make his point. Khalil did not always appreciate the humor of Malik or Boris, but the humor was at the expense of the Americans or the Europeans, so he tolerated it.

Malik had also said, "If, however, our friend who works for Trans-Continental Airlines in Paris informs us that you are going to Washington, then Haddad, your traveling companion, who is in need of oxygen, will be on that flight. The procedures at Dulles Airport will be the same-the aircraft will be towed to a security area, and you will proceed as though you are in New York." Malik had given him a rendezvous point at Dulles Airport where he would meet his taxi and driver, who would take him to his rental car, and from there-after silencing the driver-he would stay in a motel until Sunday morning, then go into the city and visit General Waycliff before or after church.