SOIKOS: The Kiss of Judas

[x-farouk.livejournal.com]

Farouk engages in the manly art of fisticuffs. It hurts.



"You know that you're dooming Alamut with this crusade against Neramani, right? You have to understand what's at stake for him, Amahl. Alamut cannot stand against India." Jacob settled into a chair across the desk from Farouk, crossing his arms across his chest. The younger man was playing with a small box about the size of a lighter, rotating it over and over with his fingers.

Farouk sighed and took of his glasses, looking up from the stack of the reports on his desk. "Do enlighten me, Jacob. Tell me all about the dangers of taking on the unstable megalomaniacal personality with a nuclear arsenal and delusions of world domination." He raised his hand suddenly, the glasses still grasped, "Actually, on the second though - I am a bit busy. So would you do me a great favor of fixing yourself a nice tall glass of getting the fuck out of my office?"

"Megalomaniacal? Have you noticed the utter botch that's been made in the Middle East, Amahl? The UN force in Pakistan can't find it's own ass with a map, both hands and a flashlight. Their nuclear arsenal is all but on the market to the highest bidder. The Taliban have completely lost their grip, Israel's invaded both Iran and Iraq airspace twice in the last year. This entire region is on the point of collapse, and we're drawing a line in the sand against the only state with any hope to stabilize this situation. Be reasonable, Farouk. You don't really care of India is administrating Pakistan any more than I do. Alamut's mission isn't about safeguarding national integrity." He leaned forward, agitated.

"Ah, I see." Farouk dropped the glasses on the desk and leaned back in his chair steepling his fingers on his chest. "You are looking for the next Iron Man to give the Middle East its long-awaited Order and Discipline. That's quite good, Jake. Quite good. So I am going to skip the geopolitical justifications - since you were there when I first outlined them, anyway."

Amahl smiled at his former protégé pensively. "Let me work this through, shall we. I like to think I am a fairly good judge of people - as you know. In fact I am a fairly arrogant man in general. Now, obviously I misread you at some juncture. I have recently been thinking and I wonder who recruited whom back then, in Khobar. Did you arrive there already with a plan to infiltrate Alamit through my facilitation?"

Farouk shrugged deprecatingly. "On the other hand, perhaps I am being paranoid. A common enough failure in our profession. Yet, you'll forgive me - getting sold out to the Imperial Guard makes one feel one's mortality. Reassess things. The past."

The gazes of the two men locked across the room, the tension rising perceptibly as the accusation that has lingered in the air for months was now in the open. Reisz's mien remain impassive, the only indicator of his discomfort with the new topic was the increased speed with which he twirled the objects between his fingers.

Amahl's eyes flickered toward it and then back. "But I digress. As much as it embarrasses me to have to admit my mistake in your case, I am only willing to go so far. You see - I will, reluctantly, stipulate that you are an outstanding operator. But --" Farouk's finger rose, pointing accusingly at the younger man. "I refuse to plead guilty to associating and befriending a functional retard, Jacob! I refuse!"

A reluctant smile sped fleetingly across Reisz's lips and was gone in seconds. "Thank you." He said dryly. "You are too kind."

"My pleasure." Farouk lowered his finger toward the table, his hand imperceptibly inching toward the top drawer. "Yet since we can both agree that you are in possession of a modestly adequate intellect, we can also comfortably deduce that you are not nearly dim enough to buy this twaddle of a Benevolent Tyrant you are spouting."

"Indeed?'

Farouk shrugged modestly. "It's a gift I have. Although, I admit, my analysis is helped somewhat by the fact that you felt the need to bring a suppressor to this meeting."

Reisz finally relaxed his control and laughed, a genuine and surprisingly warm sound, hinting at reluctant admiration. "Amahl, you never disappoint. And I would dearly love to avoid escalation of the coming unpleasantness so I would be forever in your debt if you would desist from reaching for the gun you keep in that drawer."

Amahl hand returned to view, resting flatly on the desk. "Well," he grimaced apologetically. "I do abhor the direct methods, as you know. But I have been pressing the alarm button quite energetically for minutes now with no discernable result."

"That's because Alamut has fallen, my friend." Jacob reached inside his jacket, the hand-cuffs flushing in the dimming sunlight as they flew toward Farouk. "And I took care of that rather terrifying lady outside your door personally."

The older man tensed, his hate suddenly showing through the mask of affability and Jacob flinched back a small rod meant to increase his own modest gift of telekinesis appearing in his hand as if by magic. "Easy, Amahl, easy. She's still alive."

Farouk relaxed - a slow, carefully controlled process, his muscles unwinding almost by inches - and reached for the old-fashioned metal handcuffs. "What now?"

"Right now, the deluded Opuis Dei are making quick work of the Alamut personnel. No doubt shooting our men in the head, and then weeping and praying over them or some such nonsense. All over the Middle East, the pockets of Alamut that you put on to the radar to maneuver against Neramani have been lit up for these lunatics to target. What do they say in the American Artillery? If you can see it, you can hit it. If you can hit it, you can kill it." He watched especially carefully as the handcuffs clicked closed. "Only the Old Man really knows the full capabilities of Alamut, so I can't be sure how bad the operational losses will be, but certainly enough to take Alamut off the table as an active force for the time being."

He got up, nodding his head towards the door. "It would be safer to kill you as well, but unfortunately, no one can be sure what you've put into play. I have some friends who are going to spend some time with you, to make sure that whatever plans you've got in play don't damage theirs."

"Ah," Amahl squinted, a pained expression. "I had so hoped to avoid getting tortured this season. It was my New Year's resolution, in fact."

Jacob backed up, carefully keeping the distance as Farouk rose from behind the desk. "Times are tough all over."

A sudden explosion ripped through the structure, shaking the very foundation of the stronghold. With the speed belied by his appearance Farouk lunged toward the momentarily shocked and staggering Reisz.

"It looks like your friends found the Imam, motherfucker." Farouk's knee struck Jacob's groin with force born of pure viciousness, his fingers bent like claws and reaching for the traitor's eyes. "He never told you about the bobby-trap, eh?"

Jacob fought back silently, grimly - his concentration regained almost instantaneously. A younger man he remained in shape despite his exalted position and pit against hand-cuffed desk-jockey like Farouk, the outcome was pre-ordained.

An elbow strike made Amahl's attack folder and Reisz followed it up with a sharp head butt that left Farouk dazed and scrabbling blindly for his enemy's face. Stepping aside, Reicz tagged on the handcuffs, pulling Farouk along to smash him against the wall.

Amahl gasped and Jacob shook his head almost contemptuously. "Well, I suppose that was inevitable. Congratulations, asshole, you are traveling as cargo."

Farouk had the mild satisfaction of seeing Reisz wince slightly and make an involuntary cupping mortion toward his groin as he bent to retrieve his TK-enhancer.

Then the rod flashed and a small, innocuous blood vessel in his brain contracted.

Darkness.