Authors: Madlen Namro
“Charles. I’m afraid I will have to block your telepathic powers. Drink this.” The guard held out the concoction, but Levi took only a tiny sip and spat it in the man’s face.
“Mother fuck…” The guard dashed to strike him down, but Kaminsky was faster.
He lashed the commodore with a whip he produced from somewhere in his pockets. He then kneeled over him and forced the drink down his throat while two guards held him flattened against the floor. Once he was done, Kaminsky stood up and wiped his hands calmly.
“It will be a real pleasure to kill you, but first I have another surprise for you,” he said as he gazed at the commodore, forcing his thoughts into his mind.
“Where is she?” Levi’s cry echoed in the room and the commandos almost felt the ground shake under their feet.
* * * *
Steel. Concrete. Glass. The office block, erected in 2098 in the style of new wave, very popular in New York in those days, cost over $ 3.5 billion and was mainly intended to attract tourists back into the city after the tragic expansion of terrorist attacks. The caliph’s favourite skyscraper was the tallest building in the world, overshadowing the Thai Taipei, the Empire State and any other impressive structure ever built.
The structure conveyed one hundred and twenty-one floors above ground and eight below. The ninety-second floor housed an indoor observation deck while two levels higher there was an outside platform.
Kaminsky and his men usually occupied the top ten stories as well as all the underground levels. The building’s elevators were triple deck, high-tech, aerodynamic designs capable of reaching hair-raising speeds, fitted with full pressurisation, auxiliary emergency breaks and the standard triple-stage anti-overshooting system. Their interior design was impeccable, but their most impressive feature still remained the sheer speed with which they could travel. Seventy kilometres per hour going up and around fifty going down. The passengers were seated in special seats fitted to the floor and were actually asked to fasten protective seat belts. To reach the hundred and twentieth floor, Kaminsky needed less than forty-five seconds.
The first seventy floors were supported by gigantic steel pylons filled with ultra-resilient concrete. The levels above were much lighter, mainly steel and glass.
Chinese architects once asked to assess the structure, agreed that the building could easily endure earthquakes, typhoons and even terrorist attacks, particularly with the eight-hundred-ton stabilisation system fixed on the top. Following the example of its predecessor, Taipei, the whole design revolved around the number eight, which in Chinese tradition is a lucky number.
It was no accident that Kaminsky chose this particular building. The number eight had always carried a special meaning for him. In the Hebrew alphabet, the letter Chet was associated with this value and it stood for ‘a wall’ or ‘a fence’ and therefore believed to represent protective powers. The choice of this place was mystically justified, inspired by the deeply understood meaning of the number, its connotations of indestructibility and infinity. While he was here, Kaminsky felt powerful, invincible and timeless. The terrace on the roof soon became his private refuge, a place perfectly fitted for moments of rest and recuperation.
It was on this beautifully illuminated terrace that Laura trembled anxiously while he was facing the captured commandos. She had only just realised the overwhelming height of the building. It would not be easy to escape this place, but she knew she would have to try soon. Her only alternative was suicide. Her life at the caliph’s side had become an unbearable torment and she could not take much more. She longed for the moments of solitude she had once feared. Loneliness seemed a blessing now. She had been homeless, penniless, often starving, but free. Her ordeal helped her realise the value of freedom, something she now desired more than anything else.
She looked behind her and was surprised to only see one guard. What had happened to the others? She pondered briefly, but soon her pain took hold of her again. She suffered physically and mentally, a condition which seemed to wall her out of her surroundings making everything lose its significance. Her entire perception of the world seemed to give in to the pain. Time stretched, making every excruciating moment last for ever. She was slowly beginning to think this nightmare would never end. How could she ever escape someone like Kaminsky with his army of men? She felt helpless and resigned, her suicidal thoughts fast taking over.
She needed to pull herself together. Her life was at stake. She gathered whatever strength she could still find in herself and started smiling at the guard. She was terrified of the caliph’s men. They were more than just killers. His closest guard constituted of hand-picked soldiers, each with a sort of ‘sixth sense’, trained personally by one of Kaminsky’s co-operators. They were a clan, a brotherhood of the deadliest assassins.
She swallowed with difficulty. Her long, red curls moved in the wind, as did her white dress. Kaminsky loved dressing her in long, white evening dresses to fuel his desire for innocence. Besides, he dictated every other aspect of her life so why not that one as well? She only ate, read or wore things first approved by the caliph.
She slowly walked closer to the guard, moving with a dancer’s grace, singing softly under her breath. She did not understand the words. It was an old English song, one of the few memories she still retained from her childhood. Her mother used to sing it to her as a lullaby. She reached up to slip off the shoulder straps of her dress. She kicked her shoes off and let the melody of the song move her body.
The man could not take his eyes of her, surprised at first, but soon completely engrossed. He started blinking nervously, taking quick confused looks around. Watching Laura dance made him want to touch her ephemeral body, despite everything, at all costs. He realised with absolute certainty that if anyone saw him touch her, his fate would be sealed.
Laura was Kaminsky’s property. Everyone knew that. Just the thought of what he was contemplating was a capital offence. The woman stepped even closer, whispering sweet words in his ear, tempting. He felt her warm breath on his cheek and pushed her away, but Laura did not give up. She knew exactly where his gun was strapped. It would take just one unexpected reach to grab it and shoot him. She thought of her father, a commodore, a soldier and told herself she must have inherited some of his qualities. She could do it, if only she managed to distract this man, to put him off balance for just a moment. She could then run down to the ninetieth floor, get into an elevator and she would be free.
She knew this could be her only chance. She moved back to him and pressed her lips against his in pretended passion. He could not hold back anymore and returned her kiss with uprising energy. She hadn’t expected that. Her mind raced in search of a way out of this. The guard felt her hand on his side, sliding down towards the holster. She’d found the weapon. All that was left now was to grab it, but his instincts served him well. They both reached for it in exactly the same second and started struggling. He was a strong man, but Laura felt some unbelievable source of strength in her as well. She managed to put her hand on the gun. All she needed to do now was point it at him and squeeze the trigger, but she could no longer fight him. He was simply too strong. She suddenly realised she could no longer tell whom the gun was aimed at. There was no time. The gun fired and they both collapsed to the floor. It took her a while to gather her thoughts and realise that she was still alive. She sighed as she pushed the man’s body off and jumped to her feet. In a moment of shock she realised that her white dress was now drenched in his blood, but that did not matter now. She grabbed her shoes and raced towards the terrace exit.
* * * * Kaminsky lashed his whip at Levi in uncontrollable fury, first at his face and then anywhere he could reach. The concoction they had forced into him, opioid, had certain pain suppressing effects so the red lashes slowly covering almost every inch of his body were not as painful as one might expect.
The commandos stood paralysed, afraid to react in any way. There was nothing they could do and even the slightest move on their part could provoke the caliph to go even further. So far at least he had not killed him. Kaminsky needed to take out his fury on somebody. He stopped the lashing the moment he realised Levi was only a step from losing consciousness, his pupils dilated, and his breath faint and irregular. The commodore could still hear, he was aware of where they were, but he felt consciousness gradually fading away from him.
“I have Laura,” Kaminsky panted while slipping out of his jacket. His black shirt carried a red emblem of fire on the chest. “But I’ll tell you more about her later.”
He turned to the other commandos, grinning. “Before I destroy you, before you say farewell to your pathetic little lives of misery,” he gasped, wiping sweat off his forehead, “there’s something I want you to see.”
He pushed a button on the wall and large screens suddenly appeared in three separate parts of the room. A co-operator stepped closer and whispered something important in his ear.
“Very well,” the caliph spoke to the commandos. “Here’s your first surprise.”
They had to admit Kaminsky’s sense of theatrics was unbelievable. The three screens blinked at the same time, showing footage of one military base each. They began to realise what surprise the caliph had in store for them. The commandos immediately recognised the bases of Toronto, London and Rome.
“When on September 11
th
2001 at exactly 8:46 a.m. the first Boeing 767 with ninety-six passengers onboard struck the first WTC tower, it went in horizontally through the entire building, severing all the staircases and elevator shafts. Minutes later the second airplane hit the other tower, at an angle this time leaving only one staircase intact. What did you feel when you read those files, Victor?” Kaminsky took a step towards the tracker. “Get dressed, all of you!” Apparently he could not stand the look of their well shaped bodies. Levi lay on the floor, delirious, but the caliph ignored him for now.
Victor was lost overwhelming anger when reading files detailing various savage terrorist attacks. Now, to Kaminsky asked for his sentiments particular. Trying to avoid the question, he bent down to pick up his shirt and quickly put it on. He saw David doing the same, slightly to one side.
“The temperature inside the buildings reached over two thousand degrees. The steel began to melt.” His words stirred an instinctive fear in the commandos. They were beginning to realise what the final act of this spectacle might be. He would leave them in the world’s tallest skyscraper to experience the same terror those trapped inside the World Trade Centre had. They saw fear and reluctant understanding in each other’s faces. So this was to be their fate? To experience the horror of being stranded inside a collapsing building. They had to stop him, at any cost! Victor could barely control the anger surging through him. In the corner of his eye he saw Kaminsky walking towards Jo. He was known to revel in women’s fear.
“At 9:45 a.m., the third kidnapped plane crashed into the Pentagon, destroying a section of the building, then another one plummeted near Pittsburgh.” He paused for a for words. He had always felt
his astonishment, related to one in moment to let the commandos recall the events from the past. That fourth plane was intended to strike at the president’s residence. Luckily that part of the plan had failed.
“Do you realise that the reward for the capture of Osama bin Laden was then a mere five million dollars!” He started laughing. “Such pennies for a man of his calibre! It’s simply hilarious.” While he went on, the commandos tried hard to recall the details from their history courses. The attacks amounted to 2 826 victims. What on earth was Kaminsky planning to do? Blow them up?
“Victor, you represent the world whose primary objective is to introduce the New Order., but that great business of yours never managed to create anything but poverty, war and chaos! Am I right?” he yelled once again straight into the tracker’s ear. “Answer me! Am I right?”
“That’s true,” Victor answered. “Everyone makes mistakes, but how is answering with violence going to help? Murdering innocent people; destroying their homes and countries; in the name of what? Revenge on businesses? Is it a matter of a different faith? Or maybe, as always, nothing more than a cynical struggle for power? There are only three things capable of holding this world together.” Victor felt he might have gone too far in his anger, but could not help it. “Those things are truth, peace and justice. Of the three, peace is without question the most valuable and that is what the United Nations strive to achieve.”
“You can’t seriously believe what you are saying,” Kaminsky answered a little distractedly. He looked down at his watch to check if there was still time before the show began. “Don’t you remember that it was America who started this whole war by becoming the heart and soul of global imperialism? What did America do to help the people of Palestine, repressed by the Israeli government on a daily basis? Did America think of peace when it attacked Iraq? Did it fight for peace when bombs levelled Libya and Sudan, even though none of these countries had anything to do with the terrorist attacks?” Kaminsky sneered sarcastically. “Your nations are ruled by idiots, fools that have to be eliminated, not just removed from office, but annihilated. Your world, that goddamned order of yours, should never have existed.” He stressed the last words before turning on the loudspeakers. “Your fucking capitalism is the worst horror ever to infect this planet! Bombing Africa, Asia, Latin America, the Middle East, all in the name of building a New Order for peace, you say?” He laughed. He nodded at the guards, who pushed the commandos closer to the screens. “In that case I’ll use your own tactics and have this New Order of yours done with, once and for all,” he panted heavily. “In two minutes, you will see how it’s done, how to annihilate your enemies and end all wars.”
He studied their faces. Levi was slowly beginning to come too, but still writhed on the floor in terrible pain. The others could do nothing but watch as the peace of the UN military bases was interrupted by a series of unexpected explosions, one after another, after another. Kaminsky turned up the volume and began swinging from side to side to the beat of the explosions, almost as if he wanted to dance. The sounds of destruction were music to his ears. To the right and to the left he swung, feeling victorious euphoria growing in his lungs. The commandos watched him in terror. After ten minutes, there was nothing left of the three bases and the world must have panicked by now. The caliph switched off the monitors and broke the excruciating silence.