Mohammed wrapped his arm around Haddad’s shoulder. “You always were a good brother. Knew how to treat your guest.”
Haddad looked over, a puzzled expression clouded his face. “Brother why are you speaking like I’m no longer here,” he asked as he felt Mohammed tighten his grip on his shoulder.
Mohammed gave his brother a reassuring smile. “Things change. Times change. And you’ve changed.” He kept focused on Haddad’s eyes, as his hand encircled the rubber grip on his KA-BAR resting in his waistband. “You shouldn’t have told the authorities about our little enterprise.” When the last word slipped from between his pinched lips, the knife was thrust between Haddad’s the second and third rib, right over and into his heart. Once Mohammed felt the knife seat to its hilt, with a twist of his wrist and a downward thrust, he sliced through the rib and heart muscle.
Haddad sucked in a shattered breath as the knife slip into him. He tried to push away but Mohammed’s hold was to strong, the attack to swift and sure. He could hear a gurgling deep within as he once again, for the last time he was knew, tried to take in air. Nothing. Blackness covered his eyes. He never felt his body hit the concrete floor.
Abdul-Qadir stood silently. He knew, all too well, the consequences of crossing Mohammed. Behold the gruesome scene laid out at his feet. Then again, it had been him who’d tipped his friend off that his brother had approached Homeland Security.