He was literally useless and his thoughts were haphazard, due to the bleeding. He shook his head. He had to focus. Lives were at stake. His focus was the man who edged through the crowds.

Hisada Razaq was his nick name…. which meant… reaper of livelihoods…

48 hours earlier…

Ahmed was called to THE Desk. (THE Desk was always the synonym of the premier of his organization)

As he stood in front of his boss… his eyes first was attracted to the pot belly humping its life forward… and his eyes rose up… he met the dead pan eyes behind the jovial face that betrayed so many people with its facade. An agent could be deciphered by the way the eyes was. And this man’s eyes… was distant. The eyes and the life it shone would die, and be distant… after seeing and executing the number of lives you needed to… to sit on the desk.

He sat there and said, “42… He needs to be stopped and that’s the file…”. The conversations were always brief. The unsaid conversation was always complete. This was a Kill mission…

Ahmed took the file, saluted and left.

The hunt had started. Hisada had been in Syria. Then Ahmed, traced him to Kabul and then Pakistan. Now, Hisada was looking at jumping the security apparatus of his country, and creating havoc.

Fast forward 24 hours…

Ahmed had landed in Pakistan… traveled and crawled his way through all kind of rabbit holes. The body count for this assignment had already reached 25. Ahmed had managed to destroy the screening center, training camp and now the launch pad. He had to move fast, and didn’t have the luxury to slick his way as an undercover to the top. Time was of the essence. He had to use the same route his prey used, else he wouldn’t be able to stop him. But he had to move faster than the quarry.

Fast Forward to Now…

Hisada was a staunch muslim and hence would want some symbolic adherence while the act was on, especially when he goes for the kill. Ahmed was sure of the that. He would definitely be inconspicuous, but even then he would want a mark of being a musalmaan on himself… maybe a thawb of sorts. The distinction would be his bandaged left hand which had got injured during the destruction of the launch pad. It was at the launch pad that Ahmed had realized where Hisada was headed. Pulling strings and hitching a flight had got him to the square just in time.

The Square

Families and kids thronged the place. This was the ideal place for Razaq and a nightmare for Ahmed. He was frantically searching around while people were milling round in crowds.

Ahmed felt helpless. This kind of searching for a needle in a hay stack was a bad idea. He had to think like Razaq.

The maximum impact in this place would be if the explosion happened from above, in mid air. The entire location could be devastated. Either he would need to lobby bombs or throw himself over the crowd for maximum impact. And for that he would have to get himself to a higher platform. Ahmed, scanned around and his eyes locked on the apartment building near the mosque. Of course, it had to be it. The mosque being the symbol itself. The wires that extended from the apartment went over the crowd and looked steep enough to rappel. He just had to slide down to the other side of the square…

He frantically parted the people and started towards the apartment.

The gun shot wounds in his shoulder opened up again. The tape was not able to seal the flow. He could feel his dress getting drenched again. Thankfully, he had a black shirt and a black jeans, so it wouldn’t be too obvious, unless someone wearing white rubbed on him. He had to keep moving on. By the time he was nearing the apartment, he was literally useless and his thoughts were haphazard, due to the bleeding. He shook his head. He had to focus. Lives were at stake. His focus was the man who edged through the crowds ahead of him. Yes, he had a lock on his quarry.

The reaper of livelihoods was just a man, Ahmed reminded himself. A hazardous man. He was the reason why Muslims like himself were frowned upon. The minority fanatic Muslims, brainwashed due to their poverty, killed and got killed in the name of their religion. He had to get to their leadership. But right now, he had to stop this man. Else, the havoc would be bad.

Ahmed, broke from the crowd and ran up the stairs of the old apartment. Razaq was not aware of his presence yet, and he had to gain on him as soon as possible. Like a 6th sense, Razaq turned around but it was too late. Ahmed was already closing in on him.

Ahmed had noted the locked apartment while running up the stairs. With bloodied hands, he caught Hisada by his over coat and threw him sideways, slamming him into the apartment door near by. Though Razaq was caught by surprise, he in turn surprised Ahmed with his own lightening reflexes. Razaq caught Ahmed’s hand in a vice like grip as he felt himself thrown sideways, dragging Ahmed with the momentum also, into the door…

The door shattered open and both of them stumbled inside. Ahmed struggled to his feet as Razaq got up. He slammed his 5 foot frame onto Razaq’s 6 foot frame with a viciousness, that left the terrorist gasping for breath. Ahmed pounced on him and ripped the coat off the terrorist. It was loaded with C4s and fuses. Razaq heaved Ahmed up and threw him across the room. Ahmed crashed into the wall and onto a table. He slowly rolled and fell on the ground. The body wracked with pain. Focus… he needed to focus. He struggled to his feet. He saw a pen on the table near the door. He palmed it and walked towards Razaq. Razaq grunted and got up. He tore the bandage off his hand, and flexed himself.

He swung the chair next to him on Ahmed. The chair crashed on him and though, he had blocked it, it disoriented him for the moment. By the time he looked up, Razaq was already near him, he felt his throat getting constrained and he got picked up by his throat. The fingers were clenching around his throat and he felt himself blackout. Ahmed was gasping for breath but he had to focus. Lives were at stake…

He stabbed the pen into Razaq’s biceps and palms. Razaq’s grip loosed. Ahmed, stabbed the pen into Razaq’s ear and into the carotid artery at the neck. Blood spurted and Razaq stumbled back. He fell on the floor holding onto his neck.

Ahmed, crawled towards Razaq and asked,”Akhbar aism rayiysik fi aleamal biaism allah”(In the name of allah… do tell me the name of your boss?).

“Abu Bakr”, and Razaq gurgled his last.

Ahmed took out the mobile,”Alhamdulillah. Mission Accomplished. Name of next mission is Abu Bakr.”

Abu Bakr… His next mission was already up, but now, he would just rest and enjoy the temporary peace… listening to the happy crowds right outside the building. Little did they know how close they had come to the jaws of death…

He down pressed the 0 button and the count down in the mobile started. He threw the mobile to the corner, as it self destructed and closed his eyes. People were chanting the new year count down outside. He smiled. Another day saved…

(No country name specifically put nor any region name specifically put because, this is the untold story of every country and every agent…)

Dedicated to all those who live in the dark to protect the light…

Dedicated to all who protect us silently…

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