Chapter 8

Under the watchful eye of Ms. Mahmoud, I did my best to adhere to the precepts of our faith and did my best to out-fox her about my total lack of enthusiasm for the Jihad in this decadent Western country. I had prospered in the den of iniquity far beyond my expectations and had savored the exotic splendors of the over-sexed Capitalist females. I sensed that she was not completely convinced of my dedication to the cause and I began to worry about my future and the continuation of my assignment to create havoc in the Capitol city of this center of corruption.

She was so suspicious about my Jesse that I decided to send her to her grandparents in the North just to take off the heat off us about my kinky attraction to the spoiled Princesses in this sewer of hedonistic excesses. I would miss my Jesse’s bum more than anything else and I hoped there would not be any horny Northern lads sniffing around her backside.

Ms. Mahmoud was well aware of my connections to P.C. Anderson because she was a well-placed sleeper agent from my hometown of Islamabad. Fortunately, the shapely Constable was not under her direct supervision as she worked directly for the Embassy command center.

I knew I was treading on thin ice because both of my primary operations had failed with spectacular and disastrous results. In the first case, it was more just the confluence of bad luck and unexpected turn of events but in the last project, I had purposely sabotaged the operation because the collateral damage would have been much too costly for my squeamish belly.

My only salvation was that the finger was not yet pointed at me and I was still an agent in good standing with higher headquarters. Thank Allah my devious nature was the thing that saved me against my own people. My father always said,

“It will be as God wills!”

I could hear his stentorian voice proclaiming the fate of mankind like a voice from the grave as he had already gone on to his reward. His pride in having a son who was an instrument to the divine will of the Prophet was hopefully intact unless the virgins in Paradise whispered in his ears of my shameful transgressions with the Western females.

In my defense, I could always claim that all I was doing was becoming as one with the background and blending into the woodwork unnoticed and fully assimilated.

I knew Ms. Mahmoud was taking it fairly often from my good friend China because of the youthful glow on her cheeks each “morning after”. It was a smart move to put the horny old dodger on her bum because he was quite virile despite his advanced years. She even bought him a new shirt and a tie for him to wear to a restaurant she had acquired an attraction for. The poor woman had become addicted to Japanese food and loved to cross her legs under the low tables allowing China to peruse her pussy and make stealthy advances with hidden depravity.

The arranged distraction allowed me to make other plans for my accumulation of funds for future travel without her knowledge. With the help of P.C. Anderson, I gained entrance to an underground storage facility with a quantity of unregistered handguns and confiscated booze and cigarettes that had not paid proper VAT taxes. I immediately made contact with some Irish associates who would be able to transport the entire bundle to Northern Ireland for resale to interested parties. I was out of the loop in the transaction with some deep cover insulation and turned a healthy profit that was the equivalent of almost two years wages.

P.C. Anderson and I went to a play in the Theater District with her wearing a wig and some garish clothing that accentuated her posterior to take all interest away from her face. I managed to hump her against the brick wall in the nearby alleyway with only a couple of bored cats to see us straining all the way to the finish line. We had final drinks in the pub on the corner and she pretended to flirt with the randy lads playing darts despite being so drunk they could hardly stand up straight. I was entirely amused knowing that she was just playing with them and trying to make me jealous although we both knew there was no future in our physical partnership.

I accidently ran into the American girl Anne at a well-known hotel just moments before I was due to make contact with some courier from Beirut with unknown instructions. It was unexpected and I was immediately suspicious about her intentions. I began to wonder if she had set me up in the pub and was now ready to pounce on me with all the power of the international anti-terrorist squads determined to eliminate all threats just like me.

My conclusion was that it was just an unfortunate coincidence and that the girl had no ulterior motive except perhaps to open her garden to my cock one more time. I could see it in her eyes and the way she ran her delicate fingers though her decadent blond hair. In order to get rid of her before the contact came and reneged on his assignment because I was talking to an unknown female, I agreed to meet her the next evening for a romantic river cruise with champagne and dancing. It was obvious that I was desperate because I absolutely hate champagne and the thought of rubbing feminine charms in public was more than I could contemplate even when I was in the mood to stroke some tight pussy.

I was so relieved when I saw her buttocks rolling like gelatin dessert into the revolving door and a busy street. As if on cue, my contact showed up and I prayed he had not seen me talking to the Western female because it would be yet another nail in my coffin. The transfer was made and I waited almost a full hour before retrieving it from under the long sofa. My return home was almost in a daze and I carefully decoded the message using the correct book from my library to coincide with the sequential day of the year. It just so happened to be, “A Tale of Two Cities” and I wondered if that was some sort of unfathomable omen from above.

This message was not good news. In fact, it was enough to make me nervous all over again. I knew that neither Ms. Mahmoud nor P.C. Anderson was privy to the instructions and I was not authorized to bring them into the loop. It seemed a bit underhanded but that was the procedure and it had been working well for a very long time.

It seemed very strange for me to be activating another cell after my cell was pretty much decimated in recent actions. Usually in such circumstances, I would be eliminated because of lack of reliability or just left to wither on the vine and ignored by all except the lowest members of the organization. The fact that I was being given new responsibilities either meant I was truly being promoted to a higher rank in the infrastructure or the bosses in Islamabad were just giving me enough rope to hang myself.

I was glad to see Ms. Mahmoud leave my house for the last time on her way back to Pakistan. She had not made too much of a nuisance of herself thanks to China’s careful handling and I knew she probably figured I would be eliminated soon regardless of anything she had to say either positive or negative. I gave her presents for my family and she promised to deliver them without fail. I knew they would be carefully scanned more than once to see if I was making some sort of illicit communication without Headquarters approval.