Somewhere in Southern Hipasia
Kaarim spat a bloody tooth onto the damp cell floor. The main interrogator hit him again with the baton. By now the swelling in his jaw almost cushioned the blow, yet he could still feel the sharp pain and pressure from each strike. Of course a Hipasian wouldn't be man enough to use his own fists.
The first interrogator growled through clenched teeth. "Tell us! What. The gas. Will be used for." His accent was strong and his breath reeked of sour onion and lamb.
The pair had already waterboarded Kaarim. The big one brought a power drill to one of his kneecaps. They broke his left arm with a baseball bat and had him so hopped up on sodium pentothal and demerol that Kaarim swore there were four guards were in the cell, not just two. Still, he realized even in his dazed state that they'd dispose of him soon. They got what they needed out of him, and he needn't betray his fellow jihadis any further. He would say no more. He just glared at the figure inches from his face with dilated, bloodshot eyes.
The guard leaning against the wall muttered something in his native tongue to the other interrogator. There was enough mutual intelligibility to tell that it was something along the lines of "this is pointless. Let's go dump him in the ditch."
"You're right." The first one threw the burlap bag over Kaarim's head again. "I don't want him looking me in the eyes when I blow his brains out."
Under his breath, Kaarim uttered a final prayer, though his words were slurred from his broken jaw and the opiates. Before he could finish, he felt the cold gun barrel through the cloth, resting on his temple. He never heard the bang.
The two men left the room, and would deal with the body later.
Camel Dealership
In the eastern outskirts of Abuqiya
Achmed was studying the holy scripture, standing under the ceiling fan to stay cool, when Jafar returned from a successful sale. Clearing his voice, Achmed spoke.
"Salaam. A man contacted me today, about the camels."
"Ah. How many did you sell? Fatima is a sturdy mare. Would catch us many coin, Allah Willing."
"No, no. It was about one of those camels."
"One of...? Oh. What did he say he wanted?"
"I'm... still not quite sure. He just asked questions. Asked if we dealt with 'camels able to carry heavy loads.' He wasn't one of the usual locals that comes here to get guns moved, for I would have recognized him. Asked if they would be strong enough to haul guns from here to Ordu or Qurah."
"Did our contacts from Qurah or Ordu say anything about a new guy coming? Did he ask about the gas at all? Do you think he was a spy?" Jafar began looking around the room, then went to a window and peered out.
"Nothing about that. Some of the townsfolk have been muttering about how a gas shipment was seized. How they know about that, I have no idea. Word travels quick here, I suppose, with the independence movement."
"Was there anything strange about him, Achmed? We're too far in the Nation's territory to be under threat, but still, something about what you're telling me rubs me the wrong way."
"Actually, there was one thing. He was dressed in very traditional clothing. The kind similar to what we wear back home. Was polite, courteous... pious, too. It was nearing the praying hour, so he asked if he could pray with m-"
Jafar turned from the window, shooting a look at his long-time friend.
"Since when do the people of Aramas pray? The people here barely qualify to be good Irsadis. Their fighters only pray before fighting, rarely at the good hour of the day."
Achmed contemplated for a moment.
"You're right. Allah Willing he was just a faithful priest or something of the like."
"These days you can never be so sure, especially outside of home. I'm going to ask that priest Muhammed, up in the mountains, if he can spare some lads to watch over the warehouse. Maybe that man was not an infidel in disguise, maybe he is, but I would rather be safe than sorry."
Using his secure line, Jafar placed a call to Muhammed.
