Chapter 249: Episode 1: I Toll The Bell For Myself

Although he looked indifferent, Assad felt a grating pain inside. The ANO was the first bloody organization founded by religious maniacs. They were the hyenas who would make their way into France and Turkey in three days. He’d lost 1,000 of his completely concealed fangs. There was no point in crying over spilled milk. Assad decided to be brave.

“Allah! Please receive your slaves in heaven.”

He reassured himself by blessing those who had died. With his temper, he would have executed Bansiri, but Bansiri was the leader of the military that he was raising after all.

“Lieutenant colonel Abu, calm down. What do you think is the man’s purpose? No, who was that man?”

Dealing with the situation was important, but he had to punish the intruder in order to reinforce his authority as the president. The Sunnis couldn’t even breathe after he had dropped the napalm bombs across Hama city. That was the true face of those who governed. Despite talking their heads off, they kept their mouths shut when they were forced to abide.

“From my worthless knowledge, your excellency, the b*stard is a human weapon. It was difficult to distinguish his race since he was moving too fast. The countries in question are Turkey, Israel, France, and the U.S.”

“Hm…Turkey and Israel are not capable. If the man’s identity is a human weapon, he must have jumped out from Mojave Desert of Area 51 or Arago cave. Yankees are evil, but they don’t have a reason to betray me since we’re alliances. Is Mitterrand the target?” Assad muttered.

“A qisas won’t be enough. We have to control the b*stard with tha’r. We’ve lost our main power, but the Black September Organization led by Samrin is still safe. I will devote the rest of my life to ruin those difdiʿa[1]. I swear this by Allah’s name and you, your excellency. I, Abu Bansiri, and the ancestors of the Bansiri family will keep to this oath!” Bansiri shouted confidently.

Mentioning his ancestors meant that he committed himself and his entire family. He was not a daft terrorist. He was a terrorist sworn under beliefs and self-will. He had already lost 1,000 subordinates. He no longer had any regrets in life. Bansiri raised his determination through fear and anger.

Difdiʿa, I will cut off your waist, slice your neck open, and break your chest.

Bansiri’s eyes burned with a vengeance.

Just thinking of the two eyes that burned like fire, and the whip that cut through his subordinates made him mad and scared at the same time. Any average person would have lost their mind due to acute PTSD[2].

Bansiri didn’t view fear as an obstacle. Fear could be avoided. He couldn’t go against a b*stard who wasn’t human. However, he could annihilate the b*stard’s country and wipe out his clan. That would push him into the depths of despair.

Bansiri’s twisted desire for revenge was directed towards France and the people surrounding Black Mamba. It was about to be a bloody tha’r.

Qisas was a method of revenge mentioned in the Quran. It was similar to the talion principle recorded in the Code of Hammurabi. Life had to be repaid with another life. The perpetrator had to pay for their sins by recompensing a loss with an equivalent loss. However, qisas only applied to the perpetrator and their family. It was a tradition that limited the possibility of reckless revenge.

Tha’r was subjected to the perpetrator’s family and anyone else involved. It was an act of blood revenge. The tradition of tha’r was deeply rooted in the Arab world.

Retribution against one’s family members most certainly led to a vicious cycle of revenge. After killing one another, the victims and perpetrators would often become entangled. The cause disappeared, leaving behind nothing but hatred and grudge.

With the uprising of tha’r, a fight between families would turn into a fight between tribes before escalating into doctrinal debates and sectarian conflicts. The endless dispute between the Sunnis and Shi’ites stemmed from the tradition of tha’r. Perhaps, the cruelty of tha’r existed in the background of Jesus’ cry for love and forgiveness.

“Of course. I’ve ordered the Third Airborne Brigade to kill him. You will assassinate Samrin and conquer the Black September Organization. Turn difdiʿa’s hideout into Jahannam[3].”

“Yes, your excellency. I will devote my life.”

Bansiri pledged to carry out the blood revenge and bowed three times before disappearing. Assad spoke of assassination and ruthless terrorism despite being the president of a country. Perhaps, it might be due to the fact that he was a direct descendent of Aloadin[4], who also committed blood revenge and indiscriminate assassinations.

Assad’s expression didn’t loosen up even after Bansiri had left. The loss of ANO’s special forces was painful, but there was a bigger problem. Besides the Northern Strategic Air Defense Force, there was a biological and chemical weapons storage facility in Kaparja Valley. It would’ve been ideal if the b*stard’s actual target was the ANO.

“No, he wouldn’t be able to. I’ve no choice but to trust lieutenant general Wahid Latif and brigadier general Massud.”

Assad’s anxiety didn’t disappear. He had suppressed the Sunnis by turning Hama into a sea of fire, which solidified his power. It seemed like he was walking on a stable bridge, but the Muslim Brotherhood had acted up, and an unknown monster had appeared. It was like a nail protruding from a carpet. The discomfort didn’t disappear. He didn’t know that the very person who had kicked the Muslim Brotherhood was the Iblis.

“Hadjer, are you there?”

“Yes, your excellency!”

A middle-aged man with a khanjar and shamshir on both sides of his waist appeared like the wind.

“Send an urgent message to the second army. Tell them to block Turkey’s borders completely. Particularly, set up a double net in the direction toward Hatay Province and north of Maydanki Lake. Order brigadier general Massud to move quickly.”

“Your excellency, there won’t be any problem in Lebanon, right? The difdiʿa might have left a high-speed boat on Lebanon’s coast and a submarine offshore. If the Iblis escapes on a high-speed boat and gets on the difdiʿa’s submarine—”

The head of the Presidential Guard shared a plausible scenario. It was the most realistic escape route. Assad cut off Hadjer mid-sentence.

“Hehehe, if the Third Airborne Regiment is a hammer, the second is its anvil. I want the anvil to chase down the Iblis to Lebanon. Can you guess the reason?”

“Your subordinate is not capable of reading the mind of a noble soul, your excellency.”

Hadjer tried to be as modest and respectful as possible. One could only live long enough by ignoring the intentions of those in power. One’s thoughts could be revealed in a single misstep, after all. Of course, his true intention was to become a powerful leader. A dictator feared smart aides. Hadjer could stay by Assad’s side for five years because he had displayed the right amount of stupidity and exchanged pleasant commentaries.

“Hehehe, the b*stard burned 1,000 special forces members to death. I will also burn him to death. There will be an immediate war if napalm bombs are dropped near Turkey’s border. Lebanon is our backyard. I’ll chase him there and turn him into a difdiʿa roast with napalm bombs. Hadjer, command the Third Fighter Wing to keep two bombers on standby. I’ll be sure to check if that flying b*stard is an Iblis or a frog roast.”

“That’s incredible, your excellency. Your subordinate is amazed by your plans. Allah-hu Akbar!”

The head of the Presidential Guard hurried out of the office to fulfill his orders.

“Allah, please do not test your servant. Please have mercy on Syria.”

Assad kneeled and sincerely prayed. Three rounds of Bismillah went by, but he still didn’t stand.

Even Hafez Assad himself could not escape the notion of common sense despite being a hero of his time. He could never have imagined the prestigious Arab world that he dreamt of would be upended by a presence outside his field of knowledge. Those who stood on the opposite spectrum of Black Mamba never had a good ending. That was why people were advised to avoid tenacious b*stards since old times.

[Paris’ Rue Saint-Dominique, No. 14, the DGSE’s Headquarters Strategic Operations Office.]

“Director, there’s good news and bad news.”

Manager Ariba glanced at Bonipas. Bonipas always received the bad news first. Black Mamba was the only exception. He always reacted sensitively if Black Mamba was involved, regardless if it was good news or bad news.

“Black Mamba?”

As expected, the core of the message revealed itself immediately. Ariba laughed silently.

“Yes!”

“If it’s him, tell me the good news first. If my heart stops beating after hearing the bad news first, I’ll have to suffer the ill fate of not hearing the good news.”

Bonipas drank the cup of water before him with gusto, as though he wasn’t joking moments ago. It sounded like one, but Ariba understood his boss well. Black Mamba was a moving natural disaster. Matters involving him always distressed their hearts.

“It’s a real-time report from an agent dispatched to Kaparja. An explosion occurred in Kaparja Valley.”

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“Of course. Black Mamba himself is unpredictable. So?”

“Multiple explosions are confirmed to be seen, four kilometers outside of the range. The entire valley has turned into a sea of fire. From the explosion’s range and its recurrence, it is presumed that Black Mamba has erased every single target. He might have blown up the power plant too.”

“Hmmph! Hooo.”

Bonipas exhaled for a long time after struggling to breathe for a second. He’d expected it but didn’t realize that it would actually be destroyed. That Black Mamba b*stard was truly a moving natural disaster. He didn’t question whether the report was real. Attempting to understand a human that was beyond common sense would just torment his brain.

“Woo, huhuhu, Assad’s neck will fall. That’s impossible with the number of explosives Black Mamba has. How did he do it? I can’t ask the Yankees for satellite images, how frustrating.”

Since France didn’t own any advanced security system like the Blackbird or Dragon Lady, they had to rely on human intelligence. France only launched the Helios 1 reconnaissance satellite in July 1995. On the other hand, the DGSE’s ability to gather human intelligence surpassed the CIA’s.

“The last explosion was a massive one that raised a black mushroom cloud 400 meters into the sky. Its strength was about a small nuclear bomb.”

“Hoo, he could have stolen a nuclear bag from Iran, who knows? What’s the point of guessing when he’s someone beyond common sense? I should contact the central bank and prepare his money. What’s the bad news?”

“We lost contact with Zaitun.”

“Zaitun?”

Bonipas tilted his head. The head of the DGSE had no idea about the local informant’s identity.

“He’s Black Mamba’s guide.”

“What!”

Bonipas trembled. He was so surprised that he landed on his feet. The loss of an informant mostly referred to their death. However, this was not just about losing a local informant. The problem was that the informant had guided Black Mamba. His long years of experience sounded an alarm in his head.

“Was he problematic?”

Bonipas immediately pointed out the main issue.

“Probably. There was a case where a tester overlooked a negative response from a lie detector. You witnessed it during the Chad mission. Black Mamba’s the type to look after his people. He’s not the type to put a guide at risk. He probably found a problem with the guide and eliminated him. The person-in-charge was detained and questioned immediately.”

Manager Ariba handed him a brief report with a summary of all the important points. The serpent would swallow him instantly if he gave a lengthy explanation.

“Hmm, I’m turning mad.”

Bonipas cradled his head. He had nothing to say about the Chad mission since he had purposefully leaked the information. But this time, he was really stabbed in the back.

“Is he a double agent from the CIA?”

“Nothing has been confirmed.”

Ariba’s answer was positive. The DGSE Intelligence Division had already noticed the CIA’s involvement. The Ruman plan had a hidden purpose, which was to stop America’s shameless attempts at landing their spoon on France’s table. That was also the reason for rushing the Ruman plan.

“Nimi Jotto, problems always arise despite Black Mamba’s overwhelming achievements.”

Bonipas was influenced by Black Mamba’s frequent use of Korean swear words. It was subtly stimulating and felt great once it left his mouth.

Bonipas collapsed into his chair. Black Mamba’s involvement was top secret. There was no chance that the CIA would notice the Ruman plan. However, it was likely that a regional consultant would tackle Black Mamba based on their own judgment.

“Do you think Black Mamba was attacked?”

“Impossible. He’s Black Mamba. He’s probably running this way to grind and drink our blood.”

“B*stard, don’t scare me.” Bonipas glared.

Comedy would turn into tragedy, and tragedy would turn into comedy as long as it concerned Black Mamba. He could never forget Miguel and Tanshe’s tragic endings. A big problem had emerged on top of the fact that the Dvina had attacked in the wrong location. His self-preservation instinct went wild.

“Call the inspector general over, and you…check all the informants’ statuses right away. Constantly check on Kaparja’s situation too.”

Bonipas dragged out a puff of his cigarette. There was no beginning or end when it came to a fight between two intelligence agencies. It was a fight in the dark where one bit another. There wasn’t a need or a reason to curse the CIA. The one deceived was the idiot. To be precise, he’d drunk a cup of water while the CIA had consumed a lake. The Syrian plan was jeopardized.

“Hehehe, good for you, you damn Yankees.”

His mouth, which had been hanging from ear to ear, slowly returned to its natural position. The problem was that the cup of water he had drunk was extremely sweet. He could almost see the incoming predator with his glowing eyes.

“What do I need to give him this time?”

He had to feed the predator to appease him. Bonipas’ concerns piled up.

An unexpected storm broke out in Kaparja Valley.

Woooosh—

The atmosphere was rapidly sucked into the Berkut camp’s vacuum. The surroundings grew dark. As a result, branches, grass, and leaves floated around and blocked the sunlight.

“Haaa, I almost died.”

Five minutes later, the terrible storm stopped, and rubbles poured down like rain. Black Mamba shook his head and shivered after scanning the area. The valley, which used to glow in blue, turned into a crazy woman’s messy hair. The entire valley was covered in dark ash and dust, as though a small volcano had erupted. There were rubbles everywhere.

“I went too far, I admit. Why can’t I hear anything?”

He couldn’t hear the sound of birds or insects. The entire world was quiet as though he had entered a vacuum.

“Huh!”

[1] An Arabic term for frogs. An Arabic reference for French people that has the same meaning as “b*stards who eat frogs.” Americans use the word “cocksucker” more than frogs.

[2] Post-traumatic stress disorder.

[3] Hell.

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