Authors: Madlen Namro
The town turned out to be more of a fishing village, now mostly deserted for what he could see. He stopped by a beach bar and decided to go in for a drink. The customers seated inside suddenly went silent as he entered. He was a stranger and strangers were not liked here. Victor looked around and noticed several pairs of eyes studying him closely. He took off his glasses, wiped sweat off his forehead and found a free table. Apparently the fishermen did not enjoy being oblivious as they quickly surrounded him with questioning expressions on their faces. The barman approached the table and asked if Victor was thirsty. They figured he’d come from somewhere far as they’d never seen him before.
Victor asked for a glass of water and reached into his pocket to take out a photograph of Jo.
“Since you know everyone on the island, you’ll probably know her too, right?” The men grew silent as they passed the picture to each other.
“What’s it to you?” one of them growled under his breath.
“I need to find her.”
“And who’s asking?” The speaker, an old man, moved away from the wall he was leaning against. The cane in his hand looked heavy. He slowly walked up to Victor’s table watching him take back the photo and stash it back in his pocket.
“Her best friend.”
The men surrounding the table swallowed audibly and looked at the old man who waved them away. They obediently got up and returned to their unfinished drinks while the whitebeard settled himself down opposite Victor.
“You’re looking for Jo,” he commented provocatively.
“Yes, I am.” Victor maintained eye contact studying his interlocutor.
“She matters a great deal to us. I trust you have a good reason to disturb her.”
Victor looked around the room. All the men were again preoccupied with each other, leaving the task of talking to the village elder as tradition demanded.
“I really am her friend. Possibly the only one left,” he said, trying to strike a warmer tone.
“Jo has no friends,” the old men insisted.
“I hope I’m one, even if she sees it differently. I’ve come for her and it’s really important.”
The old man glanced at him severely, but he intuitively believed Victor to be an honest man. He may have been telling the truth. He thought for a moment before answering.
“Jo is like a granddaughter to me. I will not let anyone hurt her. She’s one of us now.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Victor was beginning to see it would not be easy getting anything out of this conversation. People in places like this tended to be extremely stubborn at times.
“So, young man, you’ve got some business with her, is that right?”
“Yes, but I have to tell her about if face to face.”
“You commandos have a surprising talent for charging blindly against a problem, yet you don’t always come out victorious.”
So – Victor’s mind was analysing at full capacity now – Jo is in trouble. Possibly her memory had returned and she had had another nervous breakdown. The feeling that there was no time to lose grew even stronger.
“I don’t have a minute to spare. I’m the only one who can help her.” He bet on a hunch, surprising even himself.
“She’s not just another colleague for you, is she?”
“She isn’t.”
The old man studied the tracker for a moment more before saying, “Young man, when you leave this bar turn left, towards the dunes. You’ll find her there and hurry, it gets dark quickly in these parts.”
Victor jumped to his feet and hurried outside. The old man was right. The sun was already beginning to set and the cool breeze from the sea already smelt of the night. He got on his bike and decided to approach the dunes from the sea rather than land. He slowly rode down the stairs leading to the beach and followed the coast, carefully watching the sandy hills at his side.
* * * *
Straightened up in a lotus pose on the sand, Jo tried to focus her mind, to control the fear that had tormented her thoughts for days. She desperately tried to wind down. She’d sacrificed so much just to get rid of her memories of Kaminsky. Why did she have to go on that unfortunate identity hunt now! The constant pangs of regret thwarted her attempts to concentrate. Now that she’d finally discovered who she was, she suddenly felt helpless, lonely, used by the Defence Council, used by Alec. She needed to fight these feelings somehow. She would get over it, at her own pace and in her own way. She could trust no one.
She sat among the sands, motionless. Chilly air would sometimes make her tremble slightly, but she ignored it, listening instead to the sounds of the sea. She dove into the dark memories, saw the island as it had been a few years back, saw the terrorists’ faces and saw Kaminsky.
As she let the memories sharpen, she recalled one of Kaminsky’s monologues that he’d harangued her with while they were already the only ones left alive on the island.
That’s right, Joanna, our consciousness is a tree with many branches. Each branch is a book that has to be read, discovered. If you seek to discover your true self you must visit each of them, read through the whole tree. And once you finally reach the top you will see its beauty. But be careful not to fall off. Remaining at the peak of selfawareness is the most difficult of tasks.
But, my dear, it is also the ideal place to command others from
.
His every word made her tremble with terror. He was mad but also so powerful, so fearless, fuelled by his ideals.
When you kill you must do it in cold blood. Never waste time thinking of consequences. A noble cause justifies everything, even murder. If one wants to shape a world of perfection, he must not allow it to be ruled by fools who build their empires on other people’s misery. I shall build mine on an illusion of happiness. I’ll crush all the world’s capitalists, quietly and without fuss. I’m the messenger, child.
But Kaminsky had not kept his word. He’d killed with a lot of fuss and turmoil, unless… he had a plan no one was aware of, one that needed a diversion.
Jo wanted to shake off those memories, but thinking about them made her slowly come to terms with the ordeal, to analyse it in the cold light of logic and to find her lost strength in the fact that against all odds she had survived. Suddenly, she began to feel the chill of the night. She decided she’d had enough meditation for one day. It was time to go home. She pulled on a sweater and shoes and, as she descended the dune, she did not see the man moving closer in the distance. When she finally spotted him, her instincts told her to run and hide from the stranger. But then again, she had spent too much time meditating to let fear ruin it all now. She stopped and decided to confront him. Maybe he was not after her at all, maybe he hadn’t seen her. She straightened up and breathed in deeply to give herself courage.
Victor had spotted Jo a while ago. Riding towards her, he felt a growing wave of heat surging through his body, stirring his blood, pumping adrenaline into his veins. He’d missed her terribly. Seeing her now only made him realise how much. For the last year, he had done everything to keep himself busy, to stop himself from thinking about her, but he could not keep up the pretence any longer. He cared for Jo and wanted to tell her. The sooner the better. As he came closer, Jo was beginning to recognise Victor. At first she thought she was just seeing things, but after a moment there could be no more doubt. She smiled. All this time she had hoped he would find her and take her away. She’d fantasised about the moment they would meet, Victor taking her in his arms and whispering that he’d looked for her all this time, had searched across the world.
He pulled up in front of her. For a long moment, they just looked into each other’s eyes, suddenly lost for words, even though they had so much to say. Each hesitated to take the first step, to do what they had been dreaming of. Eventually, without getting off the motorcycle, Victor reached out to her and pulled her gently towards him. Jo sat behind the tracker and threw her arms around his waist. The heat of his body filled her with new hope. The moment would last all the way to Jo’s house along the beach. They rode slowly, chasing the sun about to rise and just before the first speckle of red in the east, they reached her house, still intoxicated by one another’s company.
* * * *
“Much of Victor’s childhood was spent in a strictly Islamic home,” Levi started, hoping to get the conversation back on track. “Kaminsky converted very early in his life. For him Islam is not just about obedience to Allah, but also a sort of military service. Like it or not, Victor was forced to study the Koran.”
“
Ashadu an la ilaha illallahu wa ashadu anna Muhammad an Abduhu wa Rasooluhu
,” David quoted, which meant, ‘I declare there is no God but Allah and Muhammad is his prophet’.
“I see Victor is not the only one reading the Koran,” Alec commented maliciously.
“The alleged relation between Islam and terrorism was refuted over fifty years ago, I’m surprised you’d still even refer to it,” Levi cut in. “Terrorists follow their own faith. I believe Kaminsky studied Islam mainly to better understand his future brothers.”
“The famous five?” David remembered. “I’ve heard talk of it in Cairo. He’s used this idea to great effect.”
“What’s the famous five?” Alec did not seem to like the fact David’s knowledge was so in-depth.
“The five things which sanctity mustn’t be violated,” Levi explained. “Religion, life, possession, honour and family. Anyone who stands against a Muslim will therefore deserve punishment.”
“Yeah, but since we all agree terrorism and Islam are not related, why do we even waste our breath talking about it?”
“Don’t like being the one who knows squat, eh?” David laughed.
“I agree with Alec,” Levi admitted. “I only referred to Islam to better describe Kaminsky’s personality. We must learn everything he’s learnt, touch what he has touched. We have to hack into his mind so we can recognise his methods and predict his moves.” Now Levi had the two men’s undivided attention.
“Nearly 150 years ago, when the attacks on New York and the Pentagon hit the headlines and were later followed by numerous strikes at European cities, entire nations turned against Muslims, but the truth was that terrorists originated from small Muslim sects, following a greatly distorted version of Islam. To understand the genesis of global terrorism, Kaminsky began studying the Koran so he was later able to twist those ideas to his own advantage. The principles of Islam, as I’m sure you know, are in no way sinister or devilish. A religious Muslim must pilgrimage to Mecca once in his life, pray five times a day, fast from dawn till dusk in the Ramadan, give alms to the poor and of course worship the one true God.”
“Allah.” David nodded.
“Yes, but there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?” Alec enquired.
“There is a line in the Koran which states that whoever dies while spreading the word of Islam will be automatically admitted to heaven.” Levi paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “These words have been illused by various leaders, twisted and falsely interpreted as an invitation to kill infidels and destroy their civilisation. You must remember the great pandemics, the mad cow disease, bird flu, the brain virus, HIV II, the fish contamination of 2060, the air contamination of 2087 and the poisoned ground water sources. They were all orchestrated by terrorist agencies and Kaminsky studied them closely. I believe he was inspired by the ingenuity of those attacks.”
“The infidels were the Americans at first, but the rest of the world followed shortly,” David recalled.
Levi sat once more overwhelmed by the images of terrorist attacks, burning cities and massive explosions.
“Indeed, religious fanaticism deprived those men of any sense of morality or self-criticism, even common sense for that matter.”
“Jo understands the psycho-social techniques used by Kaminsky better than any of us. She knows first hand how he can manipulate the crowds.” When Levi mentioned Jo, everyone grew silent for a moment and involuntarily turned to the window wondering when they’d have some news from Victor.
“Big deal.” Alec sat back on the sofa. “Kaminsky is not the first leader turning to crowd psychology. Politics is prone to that. Remember Hitler or Stalin? Kaminsky’s not doing anything new.”
“You’re right to a point,” the commodore admitted, “but after meeting him in person, Jo explained that he can do more than that. He’s able to stimulate his audience to produce endorphins on a cellular level. Some say his speeches are almost like a narcotic trance. He stirs people up into a state of ecstasy. There is no more common sense, no fear or doubt. He becomes their guru. People indoctrinated by terrorist leaders are always easy to manipulate. They are tools that can be used any time and in any way.”
“That’s odd though, isn’t it?” Alec frowned in a moment of reflection. “The leaders are always millionaires or prominent scientists and the like. These people are already wealthy beyond belief, sitting on a fortune of oil just waiting to be extracted, earning millions. Why would they even want to get involved in something as risky as terrorism?”
“Power and more power.” David sighed.
“That’s sadly true. The will to dominate combined with religious fanaticism. Kill the infidels.” Levi smiled bitterly. “Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, all these countries were once completely overwhelmed by religious fanatics. The poverty of the people was their greatest weapon and the leaders made use of it without a moment’s hesitation. Dejected, uneducated people have always been the easiest to control. They can be made to believe anything, they are easy to bribe and defenceless against the threat of violence. That’s the main reason why so many turned to fanatical religion and Muslim culture is to the West as water is to fire. Conflict was unavoidable.”
“And yet,” David scratched his chin, “it’s now 2144, the Muslim countries have long been ruled by the caliph, but there’s no trace of the promised democracy, no improvement in education, no women’s rights. Nothing’s really changed…”
“And people are still being told that killing an infidel is the best way of spreading Islam,” Levi concluded and invited the commandos to join him for dinner.
* * * *
Victor woke up before Jo. He put his arm around her warm body and kissed her on the neck before getting up quietly. He’d been so overcome by desire last night that he had not managed to tell her the reason he was there. He walked to the window and glanced at the landscape of the island. He knew it was mostly deserted. There’d been no water here for centuries. Most of it was sandy and barren, almost like a patch of land torn from the Sahara and tossed into the ocean. The air was dense with dust. He spotted a line of wind turbines in the distance. They used to pump water from underground and stimulate its flow. Nowadays, sea water was no longer used as it was too risky considering the level of pollution. Fresh water had to be carried by boat from the mainland.