The Becket Approval by Falconer Duncan (interesting books to read TXT) 📕

to lose control. Rajik smiled with a nod to Araf who returned the smile, clearly the source of that snippet.

‘Intriguing,’ Rajik said, revelling in Saleem’s discomfort. ‘Russia. London. And what’s in Afghanistan?’

‘Afghanistan?’ Saleem asked, knowing nothing about the relevance of that country.

‘That’s where I’m to send you,’ Rajik said. ‘Mahmoud?!’ he suddenly shouted at the top of his voice giving Saleem a jolt. ‘Come here!’

Footsteps could be heard hurrying along the corridor and a young Arab entered the room.

‘You know Mahmoud?’ Rajik asked Saleem.

Saleem turned in his seat to look at the lad. ‘No.’

‘He’s English like you,’ Rajik said. ‘He just arrived. A new recruit.’

‘I’m from Balham,’ Mahmoud said.

‘Too many English here,’ Rajik grumbled. ‘Be good to get rid of some of you. You see how Mahmoud looks like you?’

Saleem took another look at Mahmoud. ‘There’s a resemblance.’

‘I didn’t ask. I have my own eyes. Mahmoud is to become you and go to Turkey while you become someone else and go to Afghanistan.’

‘But I just got here from Turkey,’ Mahmoud complained.

‘Shut up! You will do as you are ordered.’

‘It took me months to get over the border,’ Mahmoud continued.

‘One more outburst and you’ll be impersonating Saleem as a dead man.’

Mahmoud got the message.

‘You both leave right away,’ Rajik continued. ‘Vehicles are waiting for you in the courtyard. Take all of your belongings. Neither of you are coming back.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Mahmoud mumbled.

Saleem got to his feet.

‘Wait,’ Rajik said. ‘There’s something else.’ A plastic folder was on his desk, bound in a strap and sealed in a manner so that it could not be opened without revealing it had been. Rajik pushed it towards him. ‘This is for you. It’s from Al-Baghdadi.’

Saleem took the folder and began to put it in his pocket.

‘You’re to open it immediately on receiving it,’ Rajik said. ‘Those were my strict instructions.’

Saleem used a knife to cut through the seal. He opened it and removed a single page.

Rajik watched greedily as Saleem read the note. ‘Why you, Saleem?’ he asked. ‘You’re a nobody,’ he added with a sneer. ‘I don’t understand why they chose you.’

Saleem looked at him. ‘You want to know what it says?’ he asked.

It was obvious Rajik desperately wanted to but he couldn’t give Saleem the pleasure of refusing him.

‘Take it,’ Saleem said, holding the piece of paper out to him.

Rajik took it and began to read. His brow furrowed as he quickly reached the end of the short sentence. His eyes darted to Saleem in instant fear. Saleem removed a pistol from inside his jacket and fired a single bullet into Rajik’s head. Rajik dropped forward onto his desk, hitting it like an engine block.

Saleem turned the pistol on Araf and fired a bullet into his brain too. The young Arab slumped to the floor.

Mahmoud leapt back with his hands up, expecting to be next. But Saleem put the gun back inside his jacket and picked up the piece of paper. ‘Get your gear and be ready to leave right away,’ he said to Mahmoud.

Mahmoud realised he was going to live and lowered his hands.

‘Go!’ Saleem ordered.

Mahmoud headed for the door, keeping as wide a berth from Saleem as he could. ‘Why’d you kill them?’ he asked.

‘Al Baghdadi ordered me to snuff anyone who knew too much.’

‘I don’t know anything except I’m going to Turkey as you,’ Mahmoud assured him.

‘Which is why you’re still alive. Get going!’

Mahmoud hurried away. Saleem made his way back up through the building towards his room. He didn’t like being called a nobody. But the pig had a point. Why indeed had he been chosen? He knew how he’d come to the attention of the high command. During the retreat from Mosul, he’d been ordered to execute a dozen Iraqi policemen who’d been incarcerated since the taking of the city. Instead of just lining them up and shooting each in the back of the head in the usual manner, Saleem decided to make sport out of his assignment and save ammunition at the same time. He ordered his men to find half a dozen kitchen knives and threw them in front of the officers. Their hands and feet were untied. The men were in a sorry state, malnourished, injured and weak from regular beatings. Saleem told the officers that they were to fight each other to the death and the sole survivor would be set free.

The policemen refused at first but Saleem was confident it would take only one of them to start. And that is precisely how it began. The largest officer as it happened, who clearly fancied his chances, suddenly lunged for one of the knives. Before he could reach it another officer barged him aside to get it for himself. The others instantly realised that solidarity was not going to work and that survival was up to the individual and they threw themselves at the blades that were fewer in number than the hands that grabbed at them.

The fight was frenetic and brutal with officers slashing at the nearest body. Those fighting over a single knife were stabbed by others. Bodies were stuck randomly, punctures bleeding profusely, screams and moans as those mortally wounded capitulated. Within minutes only four officers remained. They circled, lunging at each other randomly, hoping to make a significant cut. One of them stepped back too far from the epicentre of the battle and a fighter shot him in the leg. As he yelled and staggered in pain a colleague took advantage and shoved his blade through his eye. Another dropped to his knees, unable to stand any longer having lost too much blood, and was quickly despatched by a stab in the neck. The two remaining policemen were in a sorry state, both covered in oozing wounds. It was obvious