CHAPTER 57
Paris, France
Even with the sound muted, he could almost hear the screams. Haracat al Marrak watched the last few seconds of the broadcasted video, closed his laptop, and smiled.
The methods he had instructed his faithful to use were meant not only to inflict unimaginable pain but also to repulse and terrorize anyone who watched.
How had the American pig-dog president reacted when he saw his fellow infidel filleted with a knife, beaten with a pipe, then castrated with bolt cutters? Soon the president too would die. Inshallah—God willing.
This of course was just the beginning. Several more would die by al Marrak’s hand before he was finished. The biggest prize would take some time, but the plan was designed for the long term.
The American traitor had reacted exactly as he’d expected. She was pathetically weak, even for a woman. Greed and fear were all he’d needed to turn her. For money she would betray everything in her precious American world.
Despite the contempt he felt for her, al Marrak had to admit that the traitor was adept at tradecraft. By now she has seen the video, he had no doubt. He had even less of a doubt that she would perform her next task without a second thought.
At certain moments he had considered sparing Elise Courville.
Her eagerness to join his faithful was exciting, even to him.
Surprisingly, he enjoyed their long conversations.
Her beauty was a pleasing distraction at times, her dreams of a life together not at all disagreeable.
But she was the daughter of an infidel, and though al Marrak had turned her quite easily, she still had infidel blood in her veins.
He always knew that he would kill her in the end. She had moved his agenda forward, but her life had no further purpose for him. Allah had brought her to fulfill his will and now, with events in motion, nothing would stop him. The woman deserved to die.
Haracat al Marrak dialed the next number from memory. The international call took a few extra seconds, but after two rings the man picked up and listened.
“Matar a la mujer.” Kill the woman.
“Entiendo.” I understand.
The man in Paris regretted being unable to witness her death, but he was too busy.
He looked at his watch and began to undress in preparation for the first of his five daily rak’ahs. Allah had rewarded him justly, and it was fitting that he continue to show his devotion even in the middle of battle.