by Madlen Namro
time Jo ducked her head, the blade skimming through her
hair striking Alec in the throat. He never had a chance to
shoot.
Jo felt the weight of the commando’s body pressing
against her back. She took a step forward allowing him to
collapse face-down on the floor. The impact pushed the
knife even deeper, choking his last attempt to gasp for air. But that was not the end of it. It was as if someone had
just released a spring setting everything in motion.
Alexander was already leaning down to pick up Alec’s
laser pistol and moments later he had crossed his arms,
weapons in both hands, aiming at the two remaining
intruders. Victor grabbed Jo’s arm and pulled her to stand
behind him.
“Now, that was really amusing. I’ll give you that,”
Alexander’s laughter stopped abruptly. “You’d never see
this sort of insubordination in our ranks… such fucking
chaos! I’ve changed my mind, Victor. The money, Laura
and her.” He waved his pistol at Jo.
“Enough is enough,” Victor sneered and pushed Jo to
run away from him while he dashed the other way, forcing
Alexander to choose one target.
Bullets whizzed through the air as he reached the far
wall and reached for the second sword still hanging there.
He grabbed it and made another circle around Alexander
waiting for him to run out of ammo. Of all the weaponry
ever created, there was only one that seemed timeless – the
sword. Victor unexpectedly cut the curve of his run short
and struck at the armed man, stabbing him through his
heart. He was a samurai, possibly the deadliest man with a
sword in the world. Victor always realised that the sole
purpose of a sword is to kill.
Alexander fell to the floor. There was still some life left
in him but his eyes were quickly blurring. Victor and Jo
kneeled next to him.
“Where are Kaminsky and Laura?” Victor asked almost
imploringly. He was sweating profusely, exhausted both
mentally and physically.
“The Big Apple.” Alexander’s last words were faint,
barely audible.
* * * * “I love and hate this city,” Kaminsky said to Laura, leaning against a gigantic, bulletproof window and idly studying the cityscape panorama in front of him. They were on the top floor of the tallest building in the world. “But, my dear, the Big Apple is like a drug.”
He looked at the woman. She was emaciated, her eyes swollen from constant crying. She had not eaten for days.
“You don’t look too good. Go sleep a little.” He waved at the guards to escort her out.
“Fifth Avenue, the very centre off all evil,” he murmured to himself.
His co-operators were expected any moment now. He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. He felt strange anxiety. Looking a bit to the side, he glanced at another part of the great city. Burnt down houses, gigantic scrap heaps, a swarm of taxis, all still yellow unfortunately. He grimaced in discontent – dirty, noisy and gray. Chelsea, the homosexual district, the first one to be pulled down, Kaminsky pondered. Next will be East Village with its new generation of punks and squatters. Can’t believe I let this filth stand for this long, he frowned again and looked at his watch. Then Greenwich Village – all those damned guidos and guidettes. His co-operators began trickling into the room, each moving directly to his assigned seat. Once they were all there, Kaminsky gave them a stern look and began, “Gentlemen, this is the city where everything started and here it will all be finished.”
They shifted uneasily at his words, waiting. Kaminsky’s determination fuelled their own lust for power.
“The city’s complete destruction,” he went on, “will be the ultimate symbol of our victory and domination! Very soon, gentlemen, New York will cease to exist!”
His audience broke out into an energetic ovation. He sized them up, once again pleased with the success he’d had brainwashing them. His control techniques were unbelievably efficient.
He had always been very careful to offer to them whatever they wanted. He influenced their relations, pressuring or praising, making them believe that all this was for their own good. He introduced such group standards that they had become the only viable means of development. They were all his, body and soul.
He smiled to himself. The men truly cherished the caliph. To them, he was little short of a god. His teachings were an absolute, not to be discussed.
The ‘holy teachings’ as they came to call them comforted them, made them feel safe and justified their actions. Through Kaminsky, they all became people of success. They ran their own terrorist agencies, did what no one else would ever dream of and had more money than they could ever hope to spend.
Idealism blended with stupidity. These were Kaminsky’s thoughts as he watched his followers gathered in front of him.
“Each day I receive a fair share of hatred from the United Nations, but I got used to it. It’s almost like a cup of morning coffee, nothing more.” Some of the men snickered at the joke. “Signum temporis,” he went on, “but the difficult times are theirs not ours. Their kingdom will come crumbling down, never to rise again.”
Kaminsky got up and prepared to recite.
“I have quoted the Verse of the Sword many times and I will do so again today.” He took a deep breath and the men closed their eyes in reverence.
“Then, when the sacred months have passed, Slay the idolaters wherever ye find them, And take them captive, and besiege them, And prepare for them each ambush. But if they repent and establish worship And pay the jizya poor-due,
Then leave their way free.
Lo! Allah is Forgiving, Merciful.”
He finished and the men opened their eyes.
“You know what to do, gentlemen. Your primary objective is the destruction of the bases, and this…” He waved towards the city behind him. “…Is for desert.” He smiled. “Now, please join me in my sanctuary.”
* * * *
“All done?” Levi whispered to David.
When the commando confirmed, nodding, they both hurried to leave the laboratory and then the cave itself. Jo and Victor’s readers indicated several subsequent explosions far behind them in the heart of the complex.
They raced towards the mountains, using up all the remaining energy they could still muster, until they made it to the relatively safe area where they had hidden their plane. The commodore and David joined them several minutes later.
“Where’s Alec?” Levi asked immediately.
“He’s dead,” Victor answered coldly and David looked at him in disbelief.
“A great loss to the United Nations Military,” the commodore said solemnly. “Let us honour him with a minute’s silence.”
They calmly watched as subsequent small and barely audible detonations gradually tore through the mountain. Kaminsky’s headquarters lay in ruin. Without a word, they contemplated Alec’s death, each thinking of it differently, each from a different perspective. So far only Jo and Victor knew the whole story, but they did not intend to hide it from the others.
They boarded the plane and set course for the United States.
“So that’s where we’ll find Kaminsky.” Levi nodded, looking over a map of New York.
“Yes,” Victor answered.
Suddenly Jo burst into tears.
“What’s going on?” Levi turned to Victor for explanation. David put the autopilot on and sat next to Jo to comfort her.
“Alexander demanded the life of one of the commandos in exchange for the information we wanted.” Victor could not look into Jo’s eyes. “When Alec heard this, he freaked out. He wanted to sacrifice Jo and threatened to kill he
r.”
Jo started crying even louder. After all, she was once in love with Alec. She still could not believe how easily he would have sacrificed her life.
“Cry it out, don’t hold back,” David whispered to Jo.
“I understand you stopped him.” Levi looked at his friend.
“There was no other way.”
“This just proves…” He looked at Jo and back at Victor. “…How fleeting the so-called great love can sometimes be.”
They had four more hours of flight ahead of them.
* * * *
“Gentlemen,” Kaminsky said once all the co-operators were inside the great room, “today we perform a ritual which will ensure our success and the completion of our great work!”
Every meeting with the caliph was more than just a briefing before a new series of attacks; it was an experience of magic. A white candle and frankincense were placed precisely in the furthest eastern point of the room, a red lantern in the south, a bowl of sea water in the west and a plate of salt in the north.
“Let us now activate the channel that will let us commune with the essence of divinity.” He lighted several more ambergris incenses. “Let us pray,” he added, pleased with the result the theatrics had on his men.
Each of the men muttered his own prayer, circling three times around the ritual area, moving clockwise as tradition demanded.
“Focus of the presence, feel Keter!”
On completing their third round of the room, the men all stopped with their faces to the east and hands loosely at their sides.
“Let the divine power flow through you,” Kaminsky whispered solemnly. “Imagine it as glowing spheres, power shining so brightly, and now breathe in.” The men took a deep breath. “You can see beams of light coming out of the spheres, the radiance surrounds you. Feel the divine energy flowing through your veins.”
The men seemed to be bursting with new energy, their bodies stiffened, straightened, almost lifting from the ground. It was almost as if they grew. In some inconceivable way they were fuelled with power, becoming stronger and even more dangerous.
“Whenever I enter this astral temple,” Kaminsky muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “I feel the touch of angels upon me.” He glanced back at his followers and smiled proudly. Suddenly, there was some sort of a commotion at the door.
“Who dares enter here without permission!” Kaminsky foamed at the mouth in uncontrollable fury. “Speak!”
The guard could barely stand. Like most people he was terrified of Kaminsky.
“I’m afraid I bring terrible news, commander,” he whimpered.
“It’d better be important or I’ll have your head for this intrusion!”
“Commander…” The man hesitated for a moment. “All your children are dead.”
Kaminsky froze, gripping the back of a chair so as not to fall down.
“So is your son, Alexander.”
This made the caliph grasp at his heart. The cooperators rushed towards him.
“Your laboratory on Lanzarotte has been destroyed.”
Kaminsky collapsed into his chair, unable to stand.
“For this crime,” he hissed through his teeth, breathing heavily, “they will pay in blood. None will be safe from my vengeance.”
* * * *
“We’ll soon be in New York,” David informed his companions, steering the plane with confidence.
Jo sat quietly, staring at the clouds and the ocean below them. Levi returned to studying Kaminsky’s files, hoping to find something they hadn’t noticed before. The plane’s engines hummed soothingly.
Victor closed his eyes and tried to quieten the thoughts racing through his head. He would soon have to face the most difficult task in his life, kill Kaminsky.
Mental training based on visualisation has been practised since ancient times. The creative power of imagination helped meditation by pretending it was happening in the safety of a quiet training hall. Victor decided to use the time he had left to repeat his exercises of self-control and self-improvement. He relied on his photographic memory to recall the detailed image of his Japanese master, who used to say, “Re-programme your mind to complete a specific task and imagine it as if it’s already been done.”
Following his master’s teachings, Victor started meditating. He removed his immediate surroundings from his mind and freed himself of all the problems tormenting his heart. Then, in his imagination, he started his warm-up exercise of controlled falls. Then he continued with the least demanding of martial arts’ techniques – jujitsu, as he had always loved this ancient art created in the country he had once chosen as his home.
Throwing and kicking techniques had always been his favourite way of improving raw physical strength. He practised relentlessly, precisely executing every movement in his mind. Soon he began to feel sweat beading on his forehead. Jo only needed one look at Victor to realise he was engrossed in an imaginary training session. She also often used visualisation when normal training was not possible. I wonder if he’s using a sword, she thought. It is, after all, the symbol of ultimate victory and courage, the mark of a samurai. She remembered the terrifying ease with which he was able to kill a man with just one thrust.
Victor decided to finish his training and slowly began his return to reality. He opened his eyes and looked at Jo. For some reason it now occurred to him that the word ‘jo’ meant a weapon in old Japanese.
The woman handed him a towel, helped clear his face, back and chest. Then she kissed him on the cheek.
“Thanks.” He smiled at her tiredly and kissed her hand. Despite everything he was still a gentleman.
“Do you remember,” she asked, “that moment when our minds sort of connected?”
“I do. I’m really glad we managed to read each other’s thoughts. God knows what would have happened if you hadn’t understood my instructions.”
Jo’s face went pale for an instant. She remembered Alec’s gun pressed against her head. She’d never have thought he would turn out to be so susceptible to panic. Victor began getting dressed. He put on his vest and sheathed his commando knife.
“I’m sorry. I know the two of you used to be close.”
“You’re right, but that was a long time ago. I don’t really remember that feeling anymore.” She looked into his eyes and he could not help but smile back at her. “I know a new feeling now, much stronger, and that’s what scares me the most.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we’ll all make it through this alive.” He put his hands on the sides of her face. “I love you, Jo.” He needed to say it aloud. He pretended to be confident but deep inside he was not that certain he could actually defeat Kaminsky. He leant down and kissed her passionately.
“All right, love birds,” Levi broke in, clearly pleased with what he saw. “We’re here.”
David began the landing approach towards the New York City military airport.
* * * *
Four faceless riders in the mist. Clothed in black, weapons drawn. Coming closer and closer…
Kaminsky stirred awake violently. Laura was still asleep at his side but apparently she also had nightmares. He got up and lighted a cigar. Sitting in an armchair, smoking, he pondered on his dream. So they’re close, he thought. Four men are after me. I’ve only been here for a few days and I’ve already lost everyone I ever cared for. He blinked in the thick cloud of cigar smoke. What day is it today? It’s already past midnight. He looked behind him, got to his feet and walked to the sleeping girl. His hand touched her hair gently – it’s the thirteenth – he answered his own question and left the room. At Kaminsky’s silent command, the guards opened the door to the room where he usually held his rituals whenever in the city.
“So the riders arrive today,” he muttered, deep in thought. He was not particularly shaken by this discovery. The number four indicated the Kingdom of Fire and the Tree of Life – the associations multiplied in his head. He was pleased. He did not take anything, but a compl
ete victory into account. Today he would crush his enemies, avenge his son and heir, destroy the military bases and raise New York to the ground. The world would learn the meaning of mourning. He angrily drew a large, red triangle, the symbol of fire. A moment later, once he’d managed to get a hold of his anger, he asked the servants to prepare a meal appropriately modified to match his DNA code. Years before, he had modified the DNA diet, one of the miracle programmes popular some fifty years ago, to suit his own purposes.
“All right, I’ll play their game. No more hiding,” he said to himself. “I’ll let them get here and find me, then… I will avenge my children. Before they die, they will experience more pain than in their wildest nightmares.”
Dawn was breaking and he returned to the bedroom. He lay down next to Laura, covered her mouth with his hand and angrily penetrated her. Still barely awake and terrified, she was unable to free herself from his grasp. Despite his age Kaminsky was still a very strong man.
“You will give me a child!” he bellowed. “A son, my heir!”
Tears of helplessness ran down her cheeks, her eyes wild with absolute terror. She had no option but to give in.
* * * * The commandos stepped out of the plane and boarded a fast platform carrier to get them from the base to the city centre. Dressed in civilian clothes they blended in with the culturally mixed American crowd. Raised voices and rude gestures surrounded them wherever they looked and car tyres screeched in the streets. New York once introduced a pioneering project of aerial freeways, but the idea was abandoned due to the renewed wave of ultramodern high rise buildings competing for the title of the world’s highest skyscraper.
Jo wanted to visit the Statue of liberty, but she suddenly realised that the terrorists had bombed it some four years back.
“Let’s split up.” Levi turned to Victor. “I’ll go with Jo;
David follows you.”
“I was planning to go with Jo myself. I want to keep an
eye on her.” Victor seemed slightly disappointed. “She’ll be safer with me,” Levi insisted and Victor had
to reluctantly agree with him. After all, he was the one to
strike the killing blow, the one that had to meet Kaminsky
