But today, Abdul thought, sex came storming into his life, and in a sick way. He nearly killed that woman, which would have turned the public against us. He has to get this out of his system.
He sat down next to Ali. “My boy, I want you to tell me exactly what happened just now. The way you started shaking and the look in your eyes….I’ve never seen you like that. Tell me what happened.”
Ali looked up at his new mentor and Abdul nearly flinched. He saw his nephew’s soul revealed and it was overflowing with bitterness and aggression and for a split second Abdul was actually afraid.
“Speak to me, boy!” he barked, more loudly than he intended to.
“That bitch was flaunting her sex and waving her body around. I should have killed her.”
“Now you listen to me Ali. We cannot start killing people randomly. You only kill when I give the order. That woman was not an infidel, not a rotten Westerner. I have seen her around the markets. She is one of us. If you had shot her the public would have been angry and disappointed in ISIL.”
Ali looked at him and then dropped his gaze. “Yes Uncle Abdul. It’s just that I was so shocked by the way she was showing off her sex.”
Abdul managed to manufacture a warm smile and bestowed it on his nephew. Then he said: “Have you ever had a woman, Ali?”
The boy sat back in his chair and his eyes narrowed. “Of course not Uncle. Grandfather said I should not think about anything else, just think about this war and our duty.”
“He was right, of course. But sex is natural. A man must use a woman from time to time. It is said that a man can even let some of his friends use his wife. It is a hunger that the body gets from time to time and it must be appeased. After all, sex is how we propagate human life. And now I am going to give you a chance to experience sex with a skilful woman who will know how to make you happy. It will help you to get a proper perspective on these things.”
Ali looked up at his uncle, his mind in turmoil. He felt a mixture of fear and revulsion and a strange excitement.
“Come on Ali. I’ll take you right now. You are going to discover what joys a sexual female can give you.”
They left. The events to come would change the young killer’s already fractured life.
xxxxx
After 30 minutes of deep concentration Mark Andrews gave up his quest for the teenage assassin.
“He has vanished. I find no trace of him. They must have gone elsewhere.”
“Never mind. He’ll be back” said Sergeant Lee.
Chapter Two – Back to Action
Captain John Taylor Commander of the SAS Paranormal Activity Tactical Operations Group looked over the small band of SAS specialists gathered in front of him in the operations room in the Joint Sniper Training Establishment at Sennybridge in Wales.
Taylor, an intense man with blazing blue eyes, said: “Welcome back. Some of you have been on point in Syria and you must be glad to be back. But my bad news is that it won’t be for long.”
There was a theatrical groan from the assembled men and Taylor grinned. He knew that they lived (and died) for action.
“You have seen from your own experience and from the media what these IS mongrels are like. They are redefining the meaning of the word Wicked. They are barbaric and inhuman and their behaviour is psychotic. And things are only getting worse.
“Now that the Russians are putting in their rouble’s worth, anyone in Syria can now be killed by the Western allies, the Saudis, the French, Assad’s own forces, the Free Syrian Army, the Russians or half a dozen other factions.
“And now we have to go into all this crap and create our own chaos.”
This time his words were greeted by silence. After years of battleground experience with their Commander they were fine-tuned to his mood.
“Now here is why you have been recalled for this meeting. All except for Mission Specialist Andrews and Sergeant Lee who are already in situ in Turkey. We will link with them within the next 48 hours.”
The Commander paced swiftly back and forth on his dais, a characteristic nervous mannerism.
He said: “New intel from MI5 shows that the direct threat to the UK is now at its highest level ever. Those bastards are planning dozens of individual and group attacks against our people. Against the police, against Parliament, against Christian churches, synagogues and municipal offices and against our railway system and airports.
“As you all know, MI have been doing great work in this field for the past few years. Dozens of attacks have been strangled at birth. But most of these threats have come from amateurs, brainwashed youngsters, social misfits, people with emotional trauma.”
Sergeant White stuck up his hand.
“What is it?” said Captain Taylor.
“Are you saying, Sir, that they are going to start sending sane people to kill us? So how will we cope?”
There was a burst of raucous laughter and their grinning Commander waited until the room was silent once more.
“Worse than that. They are sending us in to stop it at source.”
Corporal William West spoke now: “And how can we accomplish that, Sir?”
“Cut off the head of the snake,” said Taylor. “We have moles in key places. It is costing a fortune but we get key intel. They have a nerve centre on the border but we can’t pinpoint it. We think it is in some kind of redoubt, a fortress, perhaps even an underground hideaway. They want us in the town. We must find its exact location then if we can’t neutralise it, we can let the air force blow it to hell.”
Taylor bent to pick up his cup of tea, now gone cold, and drink briefly from it.
He continued: “According to MI5 more than 750 extremists from this country have travelled to Syria, and the growth in the threat is not slowing, in fact it is escalating and these scumbags are aiming at mass casualties, as happened in Sousse in Tunisia.
“Plots against the UK are directed by terrorists in Syria, enabled through contacts with terrorists in Syria and inspired online by IS’s exploitation of technology. People in Britain are being reached online, radicalised and then encouraged to carry out deadly attacks.
“Also there is still a threat from al-Qaeda who are planning massive attacks in the UK.”
He said: “The head of MI5, Mr Parker, says the threat we are facing today is on a scale and at a tempo that he has not seen before.”
He went on: “MI5 have stopped six attempts at terror in the UK this year. Just think about the way that IS son of a bitch slaughtered 31 British holiday makers on the beach and in the hotel in Sousse in Tunisia. That could be happening right here.
“And just to remind you it was not only Brits who were mown down in their swimming trunks that day—a total of 56 were killed, including Irish, German, Belgian, Russian and Portuguese people minding their own business.”
Captain Taylor was in full stride now: “And here is something else to think about – there is no such thing as a terrorist stereotype. The killer, Seifiddine Rezgui Yacoubi, also known as Abu Yahya al-Qayrawani, was a 23-year-old electrical engineering student at the university of Kairouan in northwest Tunisia. He was not what one might regard as a typical straitlaced Islamic extremist: he had a girlfriend, drank alcohol and was a local dancing star. We have it on good authority that he was high on cocaine during his rampage.”
“Now for this mission. This is essentially a reconnaissance operation. We will have the help of two guides we know we can trust, from previous trips. We will start from the Turkish border where we pick up Sergeant Lee and Andrews. Then with the help of Andrews and his mind-bending mysteries we will begin to track these monsters and either destroy the nest or call in the RAF to do it for us. This is regarded by the suits as the most important mission we have been given in the past five years.”
Captain Taylor stepped down from the dais to begin the traditional SAS “confab” when they all brainstormed the mission and decided on final tactics. They argued and discussed for two hours and then left to prepare f
or departure four hours later. Destination Turkey.
Chapter Three – Lust and Violence
Abdul and Ali strolled through the streets of Kobani on the Turkish/Syria border. They looked like father and son -- a middle aged man with a stern attitude and flinty eyes carrying an automatic rifle, and a skinny teenager, also with a rifle slung over his shoulder. Men and even teenagers carrying weapons was a normal sight in this town.
An observer would not have immediately worked out that this was a father taking his son to a whorehouse for the first time. And in any case the zealots of the Islamic State had banned brothels and in several parts of the seething Middle East, whorehouses were being firebombed and their occupants slaughtered. But the sex drive remains constant in human beings and people always make a plan.
Abdul took Ali along a side road, well away from the main street which was swarming with an ever increasing flood of refugees as the cities and towns of Syria were devastated, flattened, reduced to rubble by ever more violence. Hundreds of thousands of Syrians were desperate to cling on to life and they walked and ran and crawled to the questionable sanctuary of neighbouring countries.
Abdul and his nephew continued silently through shaded side-streets until they came to a three storey house in a dead end. It was gabled, strongly built and had clearly once been the home of a well to do family. Plaster statues of Arab heroes were stationed along the front of the façade.
Abdul walked up to the solid front door and rang a bell. There was a long silence and Abdul rang again and then came the sound of a shutter opening, and then of locks being unbolted. The heavy door swung open and a short rounded woman of uncertain age smiled at Abdul and said: “How nice to see you again, my friend. We have missed you Abdul! Please come inside” and as they came through the door she gave young Ali a quick once-over.
“I have been very busy, Fayha (the fragrant). I am here to introduce you to my nephew, young Ali.”
Fayha’s lips curled back in an immense smile of welcome and anticipation. She bowed to the young man: “You are most welcome and we shall do our very best to make you very happy.” She turned and bowed again and said “Please follow me.” Her plump thighs squeaked when they rubbed together as she led the way.
They went towards the back of the house and then, to young Ali’s surprise into a bedroom and then through a sliding panel in one wall and through another hidden entrance in a wall and down steps until they emerged in an entirely new world in which the air was heavily perfumed and there was the sound of rhythmic music. It was obviously sound proofed because not a whisper of noise had been heard when they were in the rooms above.
They were in a large room with a bar at one end and a television on the wall. Comfortable couches and easy chairs and small tables were scattered about. But there were no people.
Fayha the fragrant gestured about her. “This a quiet time of day. Things pick up from late afternoon. And would you like something to drink, Ali?” and she beamed at him. “And Abdul you will have your usual?” He nodded.
“Tea please Auntie” said Ali and she grinned with pleasure. “What a polite young man!” But then he looked directly into her eyes and his eyes were sending a different message, which surprised her.
She turned away. “I’ll be back in a moment” and went through a door at the back.
“Have you ever had alcohol?”
“Of course not Uncle. It is forbidden.”
“Yes, to ordinary people but we are not ordinary, we are heroes of this war. We attack and slay the cursed infidels who wish to destroy our religion and our nation. It is morally acceptable if we sometimes consume alcohol to soothe our nerves. Also, it is a philosophical truism that if you wish to condemn something you must experience it first, in order to know it.”
“I will not be taking alcohol, Uncle” said Ali, his voice stubborn.
“Very well. You have a mind of your own. That is good.”
Fayha came back in and put down a tray containing a cup of tea with a small pot of sugar, another with milk and a bowl with some slices of lemon. There was a tall glass and Abdul picked it up and downed much of it in one gulp.
Fayha said softly to Abdul: “Can we speak privately?” and Abdul followed her out of the room. They were now in an office which had three one way windows looking upon prostitutes’ working areas, each with a bed and a washbasin and a huge mirror on the ceiling to aid acrobatic contortions.
“What is it you desire for your nephew? I have just received some new nice young girls. They are mostly Yazidis” and she smiled knowingly. “As you have seen for yourself, Abdul, the great one, Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, is very fond of the Yazidi flesh, even though he can be a bit rough with them sometimes.”
Fayha held her right finger against her nose and looked conspiratorially at Abdul. She dropped her voice to a whisper and said: “I am expecting him here tonight! That is why I have these new Yazidis here.”
Abdul nodded. The great leader of the Islamic State liked to rape young girls. It was well known.
Then he said: “My nephew is a virgin. Gently initiate him into the joys of sex. But do not upset him” and Abdul waved his finger in the woman’s face “because he has a very dangerous temper. This young man is a hero of this war and he has made many outstanding kills.” Now the woman was looking at him wide-eyed.
“He has killed many? But he is so young!”
“His heart has become old. Just be very careful. I will reward you well and we will return.”
Fayha gave one of her best and most rehearsed smiles and announced: “I have just the girl for him, Azizah (the cherished). She is not a Yazidi but she is also very young but well experienced. She can send a man into a frenzy of delight. I have seen it myself!” and her eyes sparkled.
“You like to watch,” said Abdul. “I know that.”
They went back to the reception area where Ali had finished his cup of tea. Abdul said to him: “Fayha has a very nice young girl for you Ali. Please relax and enjoy yourself, then afterwards we must go back to work. I am going to stay here, talking to Fayha while you enjoy yourself.”
Ali stood up, looking nervous, and his uncle took his rifle from him. “You won’t need this in there” and he grinned. Fayha led Ali to a door and they went through it and then through another door and she showed Ali a couch and a table, near a bed. Ali looked up at the huge mirror and then looked at Fayha. “Why is that there?”
“Sometimes if you can see what’s going on it makes it more fun.” She moved off and said: “Azizah will come in to see you in a minute. When you have enjoyed yourself enough come back to your uncle and me.” Before she left the room she turned on a TV set in the corner and a pornographic film came on. Ali glared at it. He had never seen anything like this before. He got up and turned it off.
After a few seconds the door opened and in came a petite young girl with big blue eyes and a mop of hair like sunlight. He had never seen such a very blonde person before and his mouth fell open. The girl was wearing a very short mini-skirt and she came up to him and said, in a strong and strange accent: “Hello handsome, I am going to give you a good time” and she grinned which partly spoiled the impact because one of her lower teeth was missing but by this time Ali’s eyes had dropped to the lower portion of her body and her shapely thighs.
Azizah came right up to Ali and put her hands on his shoulders and kissed him full on the mouth. (She knew they were not supposed to kiss clients but this was a special customer and she wanted to make a good impression on him.) After a moment he kissed her back and she pulled her body against him and he felt the warmth of her loins and his manhood suddenly perked up. She felt it and she smiled.
“Slowly, slowly my beautiful man” said Azizah and sat down opposite him on the chair and her tiny mini-skirt rode right up her thighs.
xxxxx
In the observation room Shahira (the thankful) felt her heart beat a little faster as the erotic scene before her began to unfold. Usually it was Fayha who had all the
fun, watching a new girl working out, but this time she was with a client and had told Shahira to watch and take notes in case the new girl misbehaved or needed tuition
xxxxx
In the reception room Abdul and the Madame were discussing the virtues and the vices of the heroic leader of Islamic State.
“He must have Divine Guidance” said Abdul. “Look at the uprisings he is causing all over the world.” He drank from his second glass of Irish whisky and fruit juice with a dash of Coke. It was a concoction he had invented for himself.
“I don’t know about military things but I do know that he has the sexual energy of a young stallion. He will go at it all night with various girls and then he is up bright and early and off to his office” said Fayah.
SAS Para-Ops: MEGA SET - SAS Para-Ops Books #1, #2, #3, #4, #5 & #6 Page 26