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Hani Hanjour

The Search for Yaser Abdel Said (Part 31)

Submitted by Denis Schulz on Sun, 09/20/2009 - 19:09
He wasn’t Audie Murphy; he wasn’t Alvin York; he wasn’t Shane or Rooster Cogburn; he wasn’t Cump Sherman marching through Georgia; he wasn’t any of those, he was Bernard Piffy, an average private eye up to his neck in a lot of things he didn’t understand—Mike Hammer had once called him a nerd—but he would be damned if he was going to let some Muslim SOB shoot him dead in the basement of a dirty, stinking, little Madrassas because that particular Muslim SOB thought Allah had given him a license to kill unbelievers He lurched to his feet.

The Search for Yaser Abdel Said (part 25)

Submitted by Denis Schulz on Thu, 08/20/2009 - 10:39
Piffy was caught between a rock and a hard place; between the devil and the deep blue sea; between a last tango in Paris and a dance with the devil in Hell. With the muzzle of Hani Hanjour’s Glock 17 pressed to the side of his head there wasn’t any time for prayers—no Last Confession; no Hail Mary; not even a Jesus Saves! He was less than a second from eternity and a dumb headline in the newspapers—if they ever found his body. He managed one word—just one word; maybe it was wait; yeah, wait, as it “Wait!

The Search for Yaser Abdel Said (part 14)

Submitted by Denis Schulz on Mon, 06/29/2009 - 04:32
Piffy sat there. What else could he do? He might as well have been glued to that gol’ durned prayer rug! He was as helpless as a jackrabbit with a broken leg at the bottom of a prairie dog hole thanks to Asma bint Marwan. What on earth had made her think they could pull off such a ridiculous stunt? He glared at the kid who had singled him out. “You little bastard—“ he began. Then he remembered the kid was only ten-years-old. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Wait till I tell your mother!” he hissed. Mohammed Atta and Hani Hanjour, followed by the instructor, were hurrying across the room.

The Search for Yaser Abdel Said (part 7)

Submitted by Denis Schulz on Sun, 04/26/2009 - 09:48

Piffy clambered to his feet. “Hi, fellas,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here.” What else could he have said?

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