“Azrael.”
The electronically disguised voice that spoke his codename belonged to one of the senior operatives within their network, and although Hassan-I-Sabbah had never met him, he knew the extent of his influence and power. For this operation, he was their only contact to the rest of the network and was known only as the Dark Prince.
“Did the information that I provided you with help?” asked the Dark Prince, the voice rising and falling in electronic modulation. The information had been supplied by the Dark Prince along with a host of useful intelligence about SCALPEL’s team members, their planning and of course details about the leader of SCALPEL, the Fisherman.
“It was of great use to our operation,” said Azrael. He was alone in his office. The rest of the team were either downstairs or guarding the perimeter of the compound. When he reported in, especially to someone as malevolent as the Dark Prince, he needed quiet to concentrate.
“Do your mercenaries still think that they are serving only the Jihad?” asked the electronic voice.
Azrael had moved among his old comrades over the past year, looking for the deadly, disillusioned and desperate amongst them. He had recruited more than a dozen Jihadis who still believed in the Holy War against the West. It had not been so difficult to convince them that his false-flag operation in Europe was truly done in the name of Jihad. He himself had long ago given up on the futility of the terrorist groups and their cause. Now, he had found a greater cause and served a new master.
“The cover story has held, yes. They still think that the scientist is being kidnapped so that he can be forced to create a dirty bomb to be used against the USA. They are soldiers and believe what they are told.”
“Excellent! It is vital that the true identity of our network remains hidden, even from those who serve us,” said the Dark Prince. “I understand SCALPEL fought back… spiritedly?”
Azrael knew that this was coming, he had prepared for it mentally. To be under scrutiny from the Dark Prince was an unenviable position to be in. “It was a tactical error on my part. I gave the planning of the operation to one of my subordinates and –”
“And that error has cost us!” interrupted the voice. “What should have been a straightforward kidnapping has been replaced with a tangled mess. Time is of the essence here, Azrael. The information in the scientist’s head is time-sensitive.”
“I understand.”
The electronic voice of the Dark Prince relaxed, and was replaced with an unmistakable tone of slyness. “I shall have to inform him of your… miscalculation. He would want to know of any mistakes, even from one of his most talented protégés.”
Azrael controlled his breathing, paused and then said, “I understand, but we are taking steps to correct this. My men are ready and now, with the intelligence you have given us, we can apply pressure to the negotiation process.”
There was silence for a moment and the crackle of the electronic voice spoke again. “I have a better suggestion for you. I have recently come into possession of the address of the safe house. As time is of the essence in this operation, I would like you to start planning for a covert assault on the building. Are you able to handle this development?”
“We have the personnel to do it, certainly, plus we have the element of surprise.” In fact Azrael thought that it would be a suicide mission; to try to take the higher ground from a highly trained, highly motivated and embedded enemy was always difficult. But, what choice did he have?
“You take the building and snatch the scientist and if it all goes awry, then you will have increased the pressure on the SCALPEL team. We will have exposed their vulnerabilities by discovering their location. They will be forced to give us the scientist or die. It is only a matter of time,” continued the Dark Prince.
“Aah… pressure, a most valuable and potent commodity?” said Azrael, his mind already working out the logistics of attacking the building.
“However, I think, and I’m sure I speak for our mutual friend on this point, that you should not be part of the assault team. You are far too valuable to waste on such a high-risk mission,” said the Dark Prince.
“But, I should be with my men, on the ground –” Azrael tried to protest but was cut off. He knew enough of the Dark Prince’s reputation not to try to antagonise this man; he was like a deadly viper.
“Give it to your subordinate to lead, he is expendable anyway, and regardless, the decision is final. You can co-ordinate from a distance, but the network cannot risk losing an operative of your calibre. We have invested heavily in you, Azrael, we saved you and protected you when you had nothing and our mutual friend has great hopes for you in the network.”
And that was the truth of it, thought the warrior called Azrael. You can swap a Jihad for a different type of crusade; religious, political or even financial. But you still end up being the same soldier fighting someone else’s wars. Perhaps it was God’s will after all. Instead, he said none of these things; there was no point, he was there simply to follow orders and kill when he needed to in the most brutal fashion. He had, after all, made a career out of it.
“It will be done,” he said.