We spent three days observing Mr Hasizi and his movements. Three days of watching, and waiting, and planning, but in the end it paid dividends. We discovered that Hasizi was picked up and returned home in a limousine with only his driver and one bodyguard that remained in the car. While the man may be a big player, he managed to hide things well within the means of an Oil Minister. It was the avenue we would strike at: When he was returning home from the ministry on the coming Friday, we would strike. It gave us the most scope for success, and the longest time before he was discovered missing. It would be our only chance.

I looked out of the car window for what must have been the five hundredth time that hour. We were parked down the street from Hasizi’s office, waiting for him to leave the building on his journey home. We had taken his wife and two sons that afternoon: We had no desire to harm them, but they would act as leverage against a dedicated man. Daniel had been surprised by my cynical reasoning… A man with no fear of death, was immune to interrogation, but his family were a weakness that he had no control over. I felt bad undertaking such actions, but realised with resignation that they were necessary. We had no time, no resources, and no allies… We had to resort to methods and acts that normally would be considered excessive. I hoped we could gain the information we sought without harming an innocent, my sense of right and wrong was still as strong as the day I had joined the police force…. It was my job to protect the law abiding, not harm them; that day seemed so long ago…

I glanced across at Daniel, sitting calmly in the passenger seat, reading a novel; he looked extremely relaxed considering what we were undertaking.

“When is he due?” I asked to break the uneasy silence.

Daniel twisted the book in his hands to look at the watch on his wrist. “Any minute now.” He offered casually. “We wait till he has left the ministry, and move.”

I nodded more to myself than Daniel and sat quietly, unable to fully relax in the seat. I was always on edge before a job.

“It is now.” Daniel murmured as he reached down and began threading a silencer onto his pistol, his eyes flicked between the ministry door and the limousine approaching in the rear view mirror.

My heart thumped loudly as the vehicle approached. Daniel opened his door and slipped onto the pavement and slowly made his way forwards to an unobtrusive spot near the entrance to the ministry. There was precious little information on the security detail, but every precaution had to be taken with the presumption that they were good. A visible threat would result in a no show. We couldn’t risk that. I slowly slipped the car into gear as Hasizi left the building flanked by his security man. Hasizi was nothing like the photographs I’d seen of him, he looked older, fatter, but the eyes were the same. His security man was intimidating, but sloppy, hired muscle, not a true bodyguard. He walked with the Minister, not before, and one man was not enough for a personal protection detail; it made it too easy. After closing his principal’s door, the man let his guard down as he turned to get into the vehicle himself; he never saw the bullet coming.

Daniel fired the silenced pistol into the back of the man’s head as he was opening the front passenger door. Stooping, he lent into the vehicle and fired twice into the driver before the man could react. The limousine remained immobile.

I pulled the car alongside as Daniel manhandled a limp Hasizi out of the limousine and into the backseat of our car. A second security guard ran from the door of the ministry as Daniel was opening his door. With practiced ease, he turned and fired twice dropping the man as he fumbled with his holster. Daniel slipped into the car and I was pulling away before the door was even closed.

“That went smoothly.” I murmured turning onto a larger road. “What did you do to him?” I asked looking at the limp form in my mirror.

“He will wake in fifteen minutes or so,” Daniel shrugged. “I trapped a nerve cluster that knocked him out.

“Ah, the fabled Mossad voodoo.” I chuckled darkly, “We’re clean.” I added checking my mirror a second time.

Daniel grunted noncommittally his eyes not leaving our precious cargo in the rear seat.

After several miles we had left the city proper, and were driving through the industrial outlands of Damascus. I pulled the car off the road, and into the cluster of industrial buildings we had scouted out the day before. The old factory complex was deserted save the wild dogs and occasional vagrant. It was away from prying eyes and attentive ears.

I got out of the car, closing the door behind me and circled around to Daniel’s side and helped him to drag the unconscious minister from the back seat.

Propping him up against a support pillar in the deserted warehouse floor, we cuffed his hands behind his back and left him to wake; we didn’t have to wait long.

Hasizi groaned , his head lifting slightly before lolling back to his chest. His hands moved and his head snapped up with the realisation that he was restrained. He looked around the room for a moment before focusing on myself and Daniel standing against the far wall. “Who are you?” he asked nervously, his hands testing the bonds once more. “I will pay what you ask, please free me.”

Daniel walked forwards till he was about ten feet from Hasizi and squatted down till his eyes were level with our seated prisoner.

“What makes you think we want your money?” he asked with amusement ringing in his calm voice. “You believe your life so valuable that someone would kidnap you for money?”

“I… Ah, who are you?” He asked, caught off guard by our disinterest in his money.

“Who we are is not important.” Daniel said dismissively with a wave of his hand, “We are very interested in you however, Mohamed.”

Hasizi’s expression changed from fear to cold awareness in a heartbeat. “Why would you be interested in me?” He asked feigning ignorance. “I am but a lowly minister of the Syrian government, I cannot influence policy.”

“This is no time for games Mister Hasizi.” I added nonchalantly stepping forwards to stand at Daniel’s side. “We are running a tight schedule, and we will use necessary means to gain the answers we seek, cooperation is in your best interest, and that of your family.” I sneered.
Hasizi looked at us for a moment, gauging our expressions. “You do not have them.” He said firmly, looking me in the eye.

I took a step forwards and looked down at Hasizi, forcing him to crane his neck further. “That is a significant gamble to take Mohamed.” I said with an amused smirk. “Resistance is noble,” I sighed, crouching in front of him. “Noble, but foolish. I can see you are a dedicated man, a professional… There is no point threatening you with pain, or death, it will not motivate you to give us the information we require.” I said frankly, looking over at Daniel, hoping he had the same train of thought I was working with.

“Sharon, go and bring his son through.” Daniel said with resignation, looking over at me. I smiled inwardly; he had picked up what I had been planning.

“You do not have them,” stated Hasizi firmly. “You bluff.”

I turned around as I was walking out of the room. “NO!” I shouted, my voice echoing around the empty warehouse, “You are calling my bluff…. A gamble you are about to pay for. Perhaps it will take your son’s life to make that clear.” I snapped turning on my heels and walking out of the room. I drew my pistol and racked the slide before pulling his son to his feet, I dragged him to the doorway; from twenty feet away, I could see Hasizi’s eyes bulge. I shoved his son back behind the door and pushed him to the floor before covering his mouth with my hand; I fired a shot into a pile of sacking across the room and waited a moment, checking the gag in his mouth. I waited a moment before pulling the door open and returning to the main hall of the warehouse. Walking back to where Hasizi was bound, I said nothing till I was within several feet of him. The expression on Daniel’s face was exactly what I had hoped for… total surprise.

“You killed my son.” Hasizi muttered quietly. “You had them, you killed him…” he trailed off.

“I told you we were serious Mohamed,” I said raising my eyebrows as if to say ‘I told you so.’ “Are you going to talk, or do we have to kill Amira and Kalid?”

“Please do not harm them!” He blurted. “I will tell you what you need to know.”

Daniel lent forwards and gripped Hasizi’s jaw turning his head forcibly to look at him. “Who is your contact in mi6.” He asked, betraying no emotions for or against my apparent action.
“Mi6?” Hasizi asked slowly, realisation flickering across his eyes. “You want to know who sent the freak to stop the Mossad cell in Damascus?”

“You seem to be on the right track.” Daniel said refusing to rise to Hasizi’s barb; I however barely concealed the lurch I felt in my stomach.

Hasizi looked around for a moment, his eyes flickering to the door where he thought his son had been executed. “Harriet Carlisle was my point of contact with the head of our operation.” He said visibly sagging against his restraints. “Please don’t harm my family.” He pleaded.

I looked at Daniel with shock; his brow was furrowed. “How many times did you meet with Harriet Carlisle?” he asked Hasizi not showing any sign of surprise at the reply. “Where did you meet?”

Hasizi shook his head. “I never met Carlisle,” he shrugged, “I spoke to them via secure satellite phone as a conduit to the head of our group. We would speak monthly to discuss updates and receive orders.” He said flatly, a broken man. “I did not know the head’s name, he kept it anonymous He was referred to as Oxford.”

“”What are the names of the others in your group?” Daniel pressed on,

“I do not know.” Hasizi said shrugging against his chains, “We operated individually completing our tasks and were coordinated through Carlisle.”

Daniel stood up and walked to the door of the warehouse and made his way outsides. Unsure of what to do, I followed. He was leaning back against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette when I found him.

“Do you think he was telling the truth?” I asked tentatively.

Daniel nodded and sighed, “Yes, he was telling the truth about everything he was told. That man is broken.”

“But Harriet would never…” I began, leaping to her defence.

Daniel held out his hand, “I said he was telling the truth, not that he was right.” He said looking across at me. “It’s pretty obvious the group are using Mi6 Secure satellites to communicate off the radar… What intelligence service looks for chatter on its own birds?”

I nodded. “It makes sense, but why pass them self off as Harriet?”

“Smoke and mirrors, and fall guys.” Daniel shrugged. “All we know is that two people at Mi6, and at least one of them a woman, are the very top of this organisation… We may still complete the mission.”

“And clear our names,” I added. “And Harriet’s.”

“That was decisive of you in there.” Daniel said after a moment of silence. “Brutal, but functional. We achieved the desired result with minimal bloodshed.”

“He’s not dead.” I said looking over at Daniel to watch his expression.

Daniel chuckled. “That is so you.” He said grinning. “That is not one of your police tricks I think. Where did that come from?”

I smiled, “Some TV show I watched used the same trick.”

Daniel shook his head, “I will never understand you, but I love the way you think… It’s so… off the cuff… decisive… brilliant.” He added looking me in the eyes. I felt immediately warmer, which was quite a challenge in the Syrian climate. I wondered if I might feel things for Daniel I told myself that I wouldn’t… couldn’t... It was just the situation; we were thrust together by circumstance and fate, it was the tension; nothing more.

“We should go back and deal with him.” I said, breaking the awkward silence. “What’s the plan?”

“I make an anonymous phone call to the Syrian secret police and point them at the man coordinating their drug problem. They will be picked up and dealt with.” Daniel replied stubbing out his cigarette.

“Is that wise?” I asked, dubious of the Syrian system and its loose ties to justice.

“Of course not,” Daniel shrugged, “But it gets him into a jail cell rather than a shallow grave, if he cooperates: Which he will. They can tie up this end and save national face.”

“What about his son?”

“Bring him and the others in, we will leave them here for the Syrians.”

I nodded and walked through to the anteroom of the warehouse to unchain Hasizi’s family. I led them back through unharmed, before looping the chain through their plasti-cuffs around another pillar and fastening the padlock.

Hasizi realised immediately that he had been tricked. “You pig bitch, you lied to me.” He bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“No, I just have some humanity,” I growled, “unlike you organising the death of an innocent woman in Damascus.” I spat in return, feeling the pain I felt at the loss of Harriet resurfacing. “You’re the criminal; you’re going to pay.”

Hasizi looked as if he was going to speak, but closed his mouth. He looked between myself and Daniel and his eyebrows rose. “You’re the shemale pawn sent by mi6!” He laughed. “And you have the audacity to say I have no humanity. You are less than human.”

I stood, my mouth flapping uselessly, I looked over at Daniel, trying to gauge his reaction, He looked… shocked…. His professional mask slipped. Before I could feel anymore shame, I turned and fled, leaving the warehouse door swinging.

I ran for about a hundred meters before I slumped against a wall, choking back sobs. I slid to the ground and fingering the hammer on my pistol. I had lost the only other person I had in the world at that moment, and there was the very real chance that he would turn on me too. I dropped the gun to the ground in resignation and gave myself over to the wave of tears.

From the Author:
Sorry this has taken so long folks, but I'm back writing it now, and expect more of this and some others soon. Hope you like it! Please comment :)