S7: Jihad

I was grateful for his understanding. Their personal mufti had visited me a few times, talking quietly of many things spiritually and otherwise. He brought my thoughts to a head one night, after several cups of a strong hibiscus tea, one known for it's slightly mind altering side effects.

"Tell me my son, when you go on these raids, who are you trying to kill? Most of the ones you face have no memory of S7, the older ones who do are mostly dead. I think perhaps you are doing all this to punish yourself, for continuing to live and have a chance at happiness while your friends were slain. Your debt to them is paid. Go home, put this behind you, and lead a good and productive life. Love your family, use your talents to mold young minds, and while I don't want you to forget your path, don't dwell too much on it. Allah Akbar, my friend."

That night I dreamed we were all sitting in our lab, talking about a new and exciting find. We were laughing, sharing drinks, when Sherry looked over at me. "I speak for all of us, Pete. Thank you. Thank you for remembering us, for avenging our deaths, Most westerners wouldn't understand, but your soul is an old one, desert born, and the call for blood could not be denied. You have answered that call, but now it is time. Remember us all fondly."

After that, they lined up and kissed my cheeks, each disappearing as the next stepped up. Soon it was just me and Moshe, and he grinned at me. "What? I'm still alive. Go home Pete. God bless."

Will understood my decision, he even looked a little relieved. "Good decision, Major. I have to admit I've loved this in a way, having a chance to help alter history, maybe. But like you, I have avenged my friends, and I'm ready to go."

Omar was happy for me, as, oddly, was Jamal. "It is good to see this, my friend. Love them, and remember your fellow warriors once in a while."

We were all set to go, when intel came in indicating that a meeting was about to happen that included a few of the more important of our enemies. It was too good to pass up, so we planned in detail, got ready, and left for one more fight.

Security was heavy, but we had done our homework, and moved like ghosts, dispatching guards with knives and silenced weapons. We were almost to the inner circle, when, after the guards missed their regular check in, the enemy responded. It was a fierce and bloody fight, heavy losses on both sides, but in the end, we overran the compound, rounding up everyone.

I was wounded again, a nicked ear that stung like hell, and a bullet graze on my thigh. They brought me a young man, in his teens, the grandson of the supreme leader. I had already killed two sons, their heads delivered to the father thanks to the Ishmalis, and the boy knew his fate was sealed. It was well known that this boy was the only grandson.

His eyes watered, his lips quivered, but he never begged, even as he watched the brand heat up. It bothered me no end that he looked tremendously like Josef. I admired his courage while I stood before him, scimitar in hand.

"Tell me, if I displayed mercy, let you live, would it make a difference? Would you renounce your ways, promise me you'll live a quiet, productive life? What could you promise me that would persuade me to change my mind and stay your execution?"

He looked up at me from his knees, to the scimitar, to the branding iron now glowing red.

"I do not like fighting. I do it because it is expected. If I was left alone, I would be at university right now, studying agriculture, trying to learn ways to make the desert bloom, to help my people. But I did not get that life. I am what I am now."

It sickened me that a boy with so much potential was soon to be adding his blood to the desert sand. "If I could give you that chance, would you take it? Live in peace, and not war?"

"I would take it and never look back. But we both know that will never happen, and I find it crueler than my death to torture me in such a manner. I am ready, do it. Allah Akbar!"

I grinned, happy with the decision I had just made. "Yes, Allah is good. And on some occasions, he can be merciful. Hold out his hand."

They pulled his arm out, holding his hand open. Before he could react, I slapped the iron to it, burning S7 forever into his palm. He didn't scream, but he did shout, before passing out. I dropped the iron, done with this life forever.

"Treat his wound. Put him in restraints and send him to the stronghold. I have plans for him."

.........

We faked his death, filming his beheading. I spoke on the video, directed at his grandfather. "It is done. The last male member of your family has met Allah. I have ended your line, erased your foul seed from this earth. Soon it will be your turn. This is my last transmission. My work is done."

I sent word to the Old Man Of The Mountain. It was time to fulfill his contract. Six weeks later, when I was home, I saw a news bulletin that the headquarters of ISIS had been hit, forty three confirmed kills, including their grand mufti and supreme military leader. No group came forward to claim responsibility.

We smuggled the grandson out of the country, set him up with a new identity, and enrolled him in a college in the US known for it's cutting edge advances in agriculture. I never spoke or contacted him again until his graduation, sending a check and a note.

"Take the money and set up an experimental farm in your home country. Make me believe that I didn't spare you for nothing. S7."

He did as I asked, and soon became known as one of the foremost experts in regional agriculture in the country. He almost always wore a glove on his left hand, telling people he had burned himself badly as a child and besides being ugly, it needed support.

Will and I returned home to a hero's welcome from our families. Molly had decided while Will was away she was going off birth control. Secretly we're pretty sure they conceived his first night home.

Maddy and I didn't make babies, but we made love as soon as we could pry the children off of me. Tati had gotten her adult form while I was away, and I was suddenly very glad I had weapons. Josef had a growth spurt, and shot up until he was an inch taller than me, with broad shoulders. He was Anatoli made over, but he still called me Dad. With his height, form, jet black hair that seemed constantly in his eyes and a magnetic smile, little girls seemed to be constantly underfoot in our home, not to mention the young boys trying to court Tati.

We decided to stay in our quiet little Scottish village. It was home to our kids now, and we didn't want to disrupt it. I was welcomed back warmly by the residents, my official story being I took some consultancy work that was such a good offer I couldn't pass it up. I continued to teach at the boarding school. When my work started showing up in the children applying for college, a few universities scouted me, but I declined, liking my home.

Sometimes I'd have nightmares about my old life, but Maddy was right there, soothing me, and they became less and less frequent.

.........

Five years later, I was sitting beside a lake in California. We had kept the lake cabin, going to see it the first time after I got back from my trip. It wasn't home, but it was very nice, and we developed a habit of spending a month there every summer. The locals loved our accents, especially the kids, and with their good looks they soon had an abundance of summer friendships, which they renewed every year.

We were back this year to settle Tati in to her new home, a dorm room at a college nearby, where she was going for a MBA, doing her undergraduate work at Cambridge. She was being scouted already by several international companies, especially the one she had interned at last summer. The fact that she spoke Russian, Farsi, German, Arabic, and French impressed then no end. Seems she was fascinated by language, and found willing teachers in Maddy and I.

Josef showed an aptitude for engineering, and had one more year to get his undergraduate degree at Edinburgh, then it was on the Stanford for his Master degree. Maddy was impatient for them both to get on with their lives and produce grandchildren before it was too late for them to enjoy them.

We were both just past sixty, both in reasonably good health, so I was patient.

I was sitting, soaking in the sun, when a woman walked up to where I was sitting, shading her eyes against the sun as she gazed out.

"Hello, Daddy."

I looked over, shocked to see Polly standing there. Now in middle age, she was still lean and attractive, carrying her years well.

"How.."

"Maddy told me last year. I was so angry at you, Daddy, for leaving us like that, making us think you were dead. But I finally understood. As long as you were alive, we were in danger, and you couldn't bear that, especially after Josh. So I forgave you. And so does Fran. You know, we always wondered where the mysterious Christmas and Birthday gifts came from, even for our kids and husbands. I think Jack may have suspected, but he never said a word. You were at Grandma's funeral, weren't you. We wondered who the man with Maddy was, but you never approached, never spoke. We saw the tears you shed, and asked Maddy about it later. She said you were someone from the past who had always held her in high regard, and was saddened at her passing."

She paused, thinking. "You didn't go to Granddad's funeral, though, did you? If it makes you feel better, he was a broken man at the end, barely tolerated by his family. Grandma moved into the guest bedroom right after your death. I don't think they ever slept together again."

She finally ran down, sitting beside me on the bench. I finally got to speak. "You know I never stopped loving you girls, right? But I couldn't tell you. Too many had already died because of me, I couldn't bear the weight of your deaths on my soul. So I stayed dead. You have no idea how hard that was on me, to miss the birth of my grandchildren, not being able to console Fran when her marriage broke up, or rejoice when she found a better man. I soaked up every bit of information about you guys as I could, reveling in your successes, agonizing over any failures you might have counted. Tell me, what do you expect?"

"We expect our father back," said Fran, standing behind us. "You have grandchildren you need to establish relationships with, you have daughters who need the same thing. The past is over with. No one will notice that we've struck up a friendship with the husband of an old friend. The whole family is here, Daddy, back at the cabin. Jack, Ben, my new husband, all five of your grandchildren. They've all met Maddy, and can't wait to meet you. Now hug your girls, Daddy, and let the past go."

We must have stood, crying and hugging, for ten minutes, before someone cleared their throat. I looked up to see Maddy, tears in her eyes, and I grabbed her, pulling her into the group hug, where her waterworks really started. When we finally composed ourselves, we walked back tot he cabin, where I met my grandchildren for the first time.

Jack was there, staying in the background, and it wasn't until late that night that I got to talk to him. Maddy told me that after he was medically discharged from the military, he was snapped up by the State Department, and worked in a think tank based in Washington. He grinned.

"Well, you went out with a bang, didn't you? Twice. Oh, don't act surprised, we'd heard rumors about you off and on for years, and you little adventure in Syria turned out way different than you planned, didn't it? You managed to rip the country wide open. Governments all over the world are scrambling to get a piece of the new pie, but it seems they're really thick with the Saudis right now. Anyone you could give a good word to? Maybe it would help stabilize the region."

I took a swallow of the beer I was holding. "Shit, Jack, that's easy. You guys, Russia, the Saudis, Iran, France, Turkey, Israel, need to get out and stay out. Things would have settled out decades ago if you had. Instead, you've turned things into a generational war. Let them fight it out, and respect the winner."

"Impeccable logic, Major. Which will never be followed in our lifetimes."

I sighed. "Well, Jack, there you have it. But give everyone this warning. One of these days a leader, good or bad, will rise and unite the people, and none of you will probably like him. He won't ask you to leave, he'll actively pursue ways to throw you out."

"Sage advice, but once again advice no one will take. Changing the subject, I'd like to come over and meet your friend Will soon. He has the kind of out of the box thinking we're looking for."

I laughed, thinking about Will. He and Molly had four children now. They bought a large house house next to ours and my children now babysat his when we wanted a night out. The Princes had paid us both rather handsomely for our efforts, and refused to take no as an answer. We were both worth several million euros, so our futures were secure. It would take a lot of talking to persuade Will and Molly to move, especially since Molly had left the service and worked at a private clinic for a very nice salary.

Surprising us all, Will felt the call and attended seminary, ending up as pastor of our local church. He was very effective ministering to the needs of his flock, and was adored by all, except two men who abused their wives and children. He prayed for them, with them, and then kicked some sense into them. I held his coat.

We visited again at Christmas, where I presented Ben and both my male grandchildren with sapphire rings like the one I'd had made for Josh, and the one Josef wore. Tati had a very nice emerald necklace that she was only allowed to wear on special occasions. My three female granchildren admired it, and squealed with delight when she and Maddie helped them with their very own.

It became a habit, we spent a month at the lake cabin with the whole family in the summer, they visited us on Easter holiday, and we would fly over for Christmas.

.........

Ten years on, I found myself in Cleveland, come to see an old friend. Maddy kept tabs on Mike, and it was a sad story. He was dying, alone, of liver disease from excessive drinking.

Of course, he didn't recognize me. It had been almost two decades, and I had changed, a lot. I kept a neatly trimmed beard these days, and it was as silver as my hair.

When I told him who I was he didn't believe me, until I told him several stories of our youth together only I would know. He went from apathetic to raging in seconds. I let him rant until he fell back on his pillow, gasping.

"Feel better now? I guess in a way I deserve it, but you're the one who caused this whole mess, you Jo, and my father. Now Jo is gone, blown up, my father died alone and friendless, his last years miserable. And look how you ended up. Part of a man, replaying your glory days real and imagined. All the sins you had ever committed came home to you that day at the tombs. I could have easily have let them kill you, but I wanted you to suffer for years. And you did. Am I happy about it? I was, for years, now I just feel sadness. It could have been so much better if you hadn't decided to manipulate me."

"I wasn't in it alone, you know. We were just trying to protect you. We knew you didn't have the strength to make the tough decision, or stand the trials of battle."

I calmly stood up and removed my shirt, shoving my hair back over my left ear, letting him see the gap caused by the bullet. "IED scars. Two knife scars, six bullet holes. And that's not counting the ones they removed during my reconstructive surgeries. How many scars do you carry? None, as far as I know. Still think I couldn't have made it?"

I buttoned up and tucked back in before sitting back down. He refused to look at me. I sighed.

"Look, I didn't come here to argue about the past. I came here today to offer you grace. I'll forgive you, take you to a private clinic that will make your last days as comfortable as possible. Or," I said, looking at the charity ward we were in, "I'll leave you here, if that's your decision."

He screamed and ranted until a nurse asked me to leave. I stood, looking down on him.

"I'm sorry, Mikey. I wish our lives would have turned out different." I strode off without another word, going to see the manager. "Here, this is a check for ten thousand for your cause. All I ask is you make him as comfortable as possible. Buy him the foods he likes, give him extra blankets, whatever it takes. If he's still alive in three months, I'll send you more."

The nun looked at the check and smiled. "We'll do our best. You must love him a lot."

I shrugged as I rose. "I did, when I was young. God bless you, Sister."

I walked out and never looked back. He died six weeks later, and I paid for the funeral. Maddie and I attended, along with about ten more people, most of them old drinking buddies. They wanted to know who we were, so I told them he and I grew up together.

"He was a funny guy," one told us, "he always had some wild story about being a spy and undercover agent for the government, bullshit like that. He told us once when he was really looped that his best friend cut his hand off. Yeah, he could come up with some whoppers."

Maddy tightened her grip on my hand. "Well, let's hope he's at peace now. It was a pleasure to meet you." We left, not even attending the wake we had paid for.

.........

I'm almost eighty years old now, and I can feel the clock ticking. Maddy left me last year, and I miss her more every day. She whispered to me just before she passed, telling me how grateful she was for the life I had given her. Tati, Josef, their spouses and children, Polly, Fran, Jack, Ben and their kids and small grandchildren were all there. Many wailed, everyone loved Gammy.

Will did the service, breaking down twice before he got through it, and her grandchildren bore her casket to a horse drawn hearse, which we walked behind to the cemetery, followed by the whole village and many more.

The kids stayed for awhile, but they had their own lives flung all over the globe, so I sent them home after two weeks. They only left because Molly and Will promised to look after me.

I spent two weeks examining our lives, picking through mementos of our adventures alone and together, earmarking them so the kids would know who got what.

Moshe and Ruth came, surprising me. When I had the rings and necklaces done for our grandchildren, I traveled to Israel, and decided to surprise him. He opened the door and my first thought was, damn, he looked old. It took me two minutes to convince him that it was really me, then he dragged me into the house and hugged me until I though I would snap a rib, then Ruth took over pressing just as hard. I gave them a little of my life past S7. He grinned and told me he knew I was alive. He knew when he saw the videos, telling Ruth it could only be me.

We kept up with each other through the internet and occasional phone call, and they did visit one winter, wanting to see real snow.

Although I had never told anyone, I kept the two truckloads of stolen antiquities from one of our first raids, always meaning to go through them. I finally decided it was time, and examined the packages and art, deciding to send most of them back to the rightful owners. Finding three Ismaili daggers, I packed them carefully and sent them home. I got a nice thank you over the internet and a promise of a favor owed, should I ever need one. I did keep a few trinkets to give to the kids and grandkids, even three great grandchildren.

There were two casks, leather bound, oiled until they survived the ravages of time. I had opened on and saw the stacks of scrolls, so fragile one disintegrated when I touched it. I had kept up with innovations in my field, and knew just who to give them to. It would be my last present to the world.