The Last Insurgent

Reprisal

Mufty waited patiently, knowing the sheikh was about to come out, probably after a few handshakes with followers. He caressed the gun slowly. His position was perfect and he knew there was no way he could miss his target. People had begun to leave the mosque, mostly making comments on the day’s lecture.

The video CD was already on sale. It was easy for them. They filmed while the lecture went on, there was no editing, all they did was  duplicate and sell.

A man dressed in suit was first to come out through the Imam’s door. Mufty frowned. He needed not to be told he was a DSS officer and the bulge on his side told him it was a gun. Well, that should not come as a surprise because the Sheikh knew his life was in danger. He had been openly speaking against them and that was a dangerous thing to do. Next to come out was a tall, lanky middle aged man dressed in white caftan whom Mufty recognised to be Alaramma Sadiq, the sheikh’s reciter. Then the Sheikh came out, flanked by guards and followed by his students.

Mufty did not waste time. He raised his gun, looked through the target glass, made sure he was set, looked at the sheikh’s happy looking face then pulled the trigger twice. The Sheikh went down at once, two brave guards covered him, the DSS had removed his pistol, registered the point he suspected the shot came from then shot back. Sadiq was on the floor, panting , crawling to safety, while the sheikh was dragged inside the mosque.  

Pandemonium broke out and the place became obstreperous. People began to run randomly, leaving their shoes behind, jumping over fence and scampering.

Mufty was sure he got his target, he jumped down and moved into the darkness. He was hoping to join the confused crowd and escape but a shot that barely missed him made him jumped on the ground and automatically fired back.

There were police men around. He shot again, got up and broke into a run. Ricocheting bullets  went after him. He was used to this type of chase. He turned, shot back, then sprang up, vaulted over a fence, ran and crawled under a van, came out of the other side and moved into a murky part where he could see people still running and shouting. His phone vibrated. He picked it and heard Gali say, “where are you?”

 Amar could see Gali among the crowd. It was the man in white jallabiya who was the humint in the mosque.

 “I can see you,” Mufty said, sneaking into the crowd, “I am behind that water tank …”

“ I get it. Stand up, we have to leave. I got you covered….” But he could not complete the sentence as Mufty came behind him. It happened with an incredible speed. Mufty held his neck, ran a knife across and allowed the lifeless body drop, bleeding like a slaughtered ram.

“ Subahanllah!”A man shouted. “He killed him! He killed him. He is one of them.” 

Mufty quickly wore his mask, sent bullets into the air and the people who had thought of apprehending him changed their minds. Instead, they ran for their lives. The police had called for backup but it was too late. Mufty had ran to their Hilux, got in and the man behind the wheel swung the car away.

Twenty minutes later, making sure they were not tailed, they were on the dusty road to their camp. The man behind the wheel, Shehu, glanced at Mufty.

“ How far ?”He asked.

“ I got him.” Mufty replied without looking at him. He put the gun on his lap while he squeezed the mask with his hand. He was tensed up, his mind tumultuous and Shehu noticed this. Mufty was usually calm and satisfied after a kill but there was something different about this operation. Knowing how dangerous Mufty was, Shehu decided not to ask any further question.

The powerful headlights sent strong beam which fell on the dust road, bordered by tall trees, shrubs and grasses.

“I called Gali,” Shehu began, “his phone was switched off.”

“ I have the phone with me. It must not be found on him even though it is a mission phone with no implicating data.”

Shehu felt a bang in his heart. Gali had fallen; killed by Mufty. It was not long ago that he took Jamil Kamal, Umar Daud, and Malern Lawal. Clean up, it was called but Gali was in no position to be wiped out. He was not the sniper. There was something unusual about it.

“May his soul rest in peace.” Shehu prayed.

“Ameen.”

Mufty’s phone rang.

“ Assalamu alaikum.” He said.

“Where are you” A thick, hard voice said from the other end. It was Jahl.

“ On our way back.” Mufty replied.

“ You missed the target.” Jahl said coldly.

“What?”

“You did not kill him.”

“I shot him. I got him.”

“I said you did not kill him and shut up! You failed. The only kill you made was Gali. Why?”

“You know why?”

“ What do you mean?”

“ There were police and I was chased. Gali was going to clean up: wipe me out. I knew I was not going to be caught so why let him kill me? And you know better than I do that it was not a point for explanations. I had no choice.”

“I am not bothered about him. He is on his way to paradise. I am worried about you not killing Sheikh. You failed the mission……for the first time and that is your grace. You have never failed.”

The line went dead.

I did not fail, Mufty thought, I hit the target……the Sheikh’s cap.

He knew he could have taken him out with a single shot, left him with a shattered heart that no surgeon could fix. He had been trained to kill but could not bring himself to kill him. Not after listening to his lecture. The sheikh answered his long unanswered questions, opened his eyes and brought him to his senses. This was not jihad. It was terrorism. They were nothing but murderers. They had been blinded, deceived and brainwashed.

He nearly laughed when Jahl said Gali was on his way to Paradise. Jahl was the known head of the sect. But how was he able to fund them? Feeding over two thousand people daily, even though they have a unit of cattle rustlers who bring in plenty cows to be slaughtered. They said it was important for the jihadist to have plenty meat to work for God.

They had an arsenal full with sophisticated weapons, fleet of expensive Toyota Hilux trucks, contacts and enough money to make them rich. Jahl was just a puppet been used by the unseen masters. But none of them knew anything. God! They were part of a setting they knew little about.

None of them knew the source of funds, the men at the top, the real purpose of the agitation. They had not bothered because they were given a lot of money, food, women and most important, made to believe they were working for God. No! Sheikh was right, it was a fustian pact. He had felt something was not right but he could not figure it out. He started getting a cold feet from the day Jamil bombed the complex. He had watched Jamil deceive the girl, promising her sweets, chocolates if they got there. When they had arrived, Jamil had gone to pick his spot and when it was time, the little girl was told to go and collect her chocolates, fixing  the bomb on her and telling her it was a machine that produced biscuits. She was only seven. They had told her to go into the complex and meet Jamil. Mufty was there,  had a binocular, watching the little girl then at the final stage, a few seconds to her death, he saw that excited expression on her face, a smile that splashed on her pretty face, she had seen  a beautiful white teddy displayed for sale.

She had that excited expression as the bomb blast. It was a scene he had not been able to forget. Only God knew where Malern SB had gotten her from. Why was he going back now? Why did he not escape from the mosque? He knew he would be killed if suspected to have intentionally spared Sheikh Jabir.

He knew why. Leena! He could not leave her there. He was responsible for her abduction and if saving her was the last thing he was going to do, so be it. It was going to be difficult and very dicey but he did not care. But why? He remembered reading it in an hadith that forceful marriage was prohibited in Islam. Why did they abduct girls and marry them forcefully, without the consent of their parents? Sometimes they abducted married women and dissolved their marriages to marry her off to someone else. He knew why. It was not Islam they were practising. He had to do whatever it took to free her.

He knew how tight the security system was. As they drove towards the camp now, he knew there were stations with people watching them, taking turns. There were also devices connected to a satellite system and watched on screens by guards. Yes! He would have to smuggle her out. That would be when he was going to deliver provisions to the members of the training camp, he would simply put her in a sack and leave.

When they finally arrived the camp two hours later, it was almost 12:00AM and most of the insurgents and their so called wives were asleep, except for those on guard. Mufty went straight to his cabin.

He was surprisingly eager to see Leena. He wanted to talk to someone who would be on the same page with him, someone to share with as he felt a heavy weight on his mind. This was unusual for him. He never liked to share with anyone, kept to himself and never really had a close friend. He knocked at the door slightly, heard no response, knocked again a little louder, and still heard no response. He turned the door handle. The door was not locked.

That was unusual. She never let the door open when he was out. He went in, the lights were out. He ran his hand on the wall until he found the switch and put on the light. He walked briskly into the bedroom which they shared and switched on the light. He felt a bang in his heart. She was not there. Hopelessly, he went to the toilet to check, he was not surprised not to find her .Then he noticed that the small bag given to her to put the few clothes was gone. What was going on? Where was she? Escape was out of the question.

“You seemed to be more worried about her….,” Jahl’s thick voice emerged from behind, “than your failure tonight. Failure to Serve God.”

Mufty turned swiftly.

“ Where is she? ”

“I can see you are deeply in love. You are beginning to forget that our raison d’etre   is to worship God. You have never missed a target until you fell in love.” Jahl said, still standing by the door. “ I sent her away .She has been taking away where you will never see her again .They came and I put her on the list.”

 Mufty felt his heart beating faster, fighting the urge to pounce on the giant.

“ She is my wife, Amir.”

“No.” Jahl said firmly. “ To have a wife, you must pay a bride price. Remember what I said in retrospect, the mission was to be your bride price and you failed. She is going with someone else forever. I did not bother to tell them she is  HIV positive. Who knows if you did not even infect her. Who knows if it is a lie that you are positive? I should have made them test her. But,” he shrugged, “she has gone. Not even I can bring her back. You should have sought my blessing from the start. I am the father of all. No money, no wife.”

He turned and started moving out. After a few steps, he turned and said, “ the Sheikh is dead alright.”

Mufty frowned.

“You said I missed.”

“Yes, you missed, but someone else finished the job but the house thinks it is you. You still have the credit and I will keep it that way. God has finally taken His enemy, the  hypocritical Sheikh, away. Glory be to  God. Have a good rest. Peace be upon you.” He went out, banging the wooden door after him with a great force. Mufty stood still for a few seconds which looked like a life time. He was very sure what he hated most in the world was this sect and they just made an enemy. He lowered himself and sat on the floor, leaning his back on the wall. He could see Leener’s image sitting on the bed, asking him to eat. I will find her….at all cost, he decided.