He was watching TV with Lucy when the news came on and told him that life as he knew it was about to end.
Somewhere in Yemen.
The words were spoken slowly, carefully, measured. It was an educated voice. It had probably lived in London somewhere, he thought. Ax knew the man had travelled. He knew that the man was unimaginably rich. “They” knew he had been born in Saudi Arabia, but nobody knew where he really called home these days. They had been searching for him for years, so they said.
“We are going to hurt you now. We are not going to ask any questions. The questions will come later.” The voice was soft, almost gentle. “We are going to hurt you because we can. Eventually we are going to kill you, but first we are going to torture you. You are going to be our little Jesus and you are going to beg for crucifixion. For we shall rain upon you the suffering of all our children, that you may be cleansed in the fire of repentance. “
“Your own people gave you up, you know? How do you think we found her, and then you, so quickly? Don’t you know that they have plans? And you, a mere soldier are just another tiny cog in a vast wheel you cannot even see far less comprehend. Their plans are much, much bigger than you. They are grand plans. They, however, are arrogant. As you are. Their plans are nothing compared to ours. No matter. Soon it will soon be time to begin your journey to salvation.
Allahu Akbar.”