Kaos

Chapter One

As night fell, the cold moon hung high in the sky. The bright moonlight fell on the ancient castle on the edge of the city, casting a mysterious silver veil around it. Emily stood on the balcony, looking at the forest in the distance, and felt a chill rising from the bottom of her heart. Since moving to this castle, her life has become bizarre and mysterious.
The cold wind in October swept across her bare shoulders, bringing a shudder. Emily subconsciously wrapped her woolen shawl tightly around her, but she couldn't feel any warmth. This castle seems to be always cold, just like its mysterious owner Lucas Black, exuding an inaccessible atmosphere.
"Miss Emily," suddenly, a low voice sounded behind her, "You'll catch a cold if you're still outside so late."
She turned around and saw Lucas standing at the balcony door. The moonlight outlined his tall figure. He was wearing a dark silk shirt, and the collar vaguely revealed his strong chest. The amber eyes flickered strangely in the darkness, as if they could see through her soul.
"Mr. Black," Emily whispered, trying to hide the trembling in her voice, "I'm just admiring the moonlight."
Lucas took a step forward, but suddenly stopped. Emily noticed that his body stiffened instantly, and his nostrils fluttered slightly, as if he was sniffing something. His expression became solemn, and a glimmer of wildness flashed in his eyes, but was quickly suppressed.
"Please go in," his voice was hoarser than usual, "It's not safe here."
Just then, a cold night breeze swept across the balcony, bringing a faint smell of rust. Emily saw that Lucas's fingers were almost pinched into the stone railing, and his knuckles were white. She couldn't help but take a step back, her heartbeat accelerated.
"I thought this castle was the safest place," she whispered, "after all, you are here."
Lucas let out an almost inaudible growl, "Some danger, Miss Emily, is much closer than you think." His eyes looked unusually sharp in the moonlight, "especially on a full moon night."
Suddenly, a wolf howl came from the distant forest, shrill and long. Emily was surprised to find that Lucas' pupils shrank in an instant and turned into vertical pupils like a beast, but the fleeting change made her wonder if it was just an illusion caused by the moonlight.
Just then, a cold breath passed by her from behind, accompanied by a chuckle. Emily turned around and saw only a dark shadow flashing in the corner of the balcony. When she looked back again, Lucas had come to her side, with a hand gently on her shoulder.
"I'll take you back to your room," he said, with an unquestionable commanding tone in his voice. Emily noticed that his palms were surprisingly hot, in sharp contrast to the chill of the castle.
Walking in the dark corridor of the castle, Emily could feel Lucas' presence, he walked behind her like a silent guardian. Moonlight poured in through the Gothic stained glass windows, casting mottled shadows on the floor.
"Good night, Miss Emily," Lucas whispered in front of her door, "Remember, no matter what sound you hear, don't leave the room tonight."
"Why?" Emily asked subconsciously.
Lucas was silent for a moment, his eyes looked deep and dangerous in the moonlight, "Because the moonlight tonight is too beautiful, it will always wake up something that shouldn't wake up."
When the door closed behind her, Emily leaned against the door, her heartbeat still alarmingly fast. She could hear Lucas's footsteps gradually fading away, but she seemed to hear the sound of wings flapping outside the window. She walked to the window and looked out through the glass.
In the moonlit courtyard, she saw a figure standing by the fountain. The man looked up at her window, and the moonlight illuminated his pale marble face - it was Draco, with a mysterious smile on his lips and a dangerous light in his eyes. When Emily blinked, his figure had disappeared, as if he had never appeared. Emily lay trembling on the bed, listening to the wolf howling outside the window. She knew that she had fallen into a world full of dangers, and this was just the beginning. On this moonlit night, her fate was closely linked to two mysterious and dangerous beings, and there was no turning back.

Chapter Two

In the dead of night, Emily lay in bed, the faces of Lucas and Draco appeared in her mind. She could not resist the deep attraction, but she also knew that she was caught in a dangerous vortex. She knew that the confrontation between the two men was a life-and-death hostility, and she was just a pawn in their war. A corner of her heart reminded her to escape, but the deeper desire pulled her to stay in this mysterious castle, looking forward to the unknown encounter.

        Just as she was about to fall asleep, a slight knock on the window interrupted the silence. Emily opened her eyes, and the moonlight poured into the room through the curtains, making the corners of the room particularly dark. She sat up subconsciously, trembling slightly and walked to the window. When she opened the curtains, a figure was standing in front of her, cold and elegant.

        It was Draco.

        "Sorry, I scared you, Emily." His low voice was frivolous and indifferent, as if every word revealed his unfathomable darkness. His eyes were like two flames in the abyss, locking onto her with an irresistible force.

        "How... are you here?" Emily's heartbeat quickened, and her hands unconsciously clenched a corner of the curtain. She knew she should be scared at this moment, but Draco's unique charm made it hard for her to resist.

        Draco did not answer her question, but slowly approached, lowered his head and whispered in her ear: "You know why I'm here, Emily. You've never really been afraid of me, right?"

        The moment he approached, she smelled the cold breath on him, as if it came from the night a thousand years ago. Her breathing gradually became rapid, but she did not retreat, but was locked by his eyes, as if her soul was also attracted to him.

        "Draco... we can't do this." Her voice was weak, but she did not retreat at all, as if even she herself was struggling with contradictions.

        "You don't belong here at all, Emily. Staying here will only put you in deeper danger." Draco gently lifted her chin, with a smile on the corner of his cold mouth, that smile was both gentle and dangerous, "But if you want to know the real darkness, then come. I will take you to see everything."

        At this moment, the door was pushed open, and Lucas' figure appeared at the door like a shadow. His face was gloomy, and his eyes were burning with anger. It was his possessiveness and anger that he could not hide. He walked towards Draco step by step, his hands clenched, his muscles tensed, as if he was going to pounce on and tear the enemy in front of him in the next second.

        "Draco, let her go." Lucas' voice was low and threatening, like an enraged beast. It was the first time Emily saw him so out of control, his eyes were like a ball of unextinguishable fire, revealing uncontrollable anger and possessiveness.

        Draco smiled slightly, released Emily's chin, and looked at Lucas provocatively. "Don't you understand yet? She doesn't belong to you. The savagery of the wolf tribe is nothing but a bondage to her, and I can give her true freedom."

        "The 'freedom' you mentioned will only make her fall into darkness. You don't understand what true protection is." Lucas sneered, his eyes as sharp as an eagle. He slowly stepped forward, blocked Emily, and protected her behind him. That was his attitude as the wolf king, firm and unshakable.

        Emily was sandwiched between the two, feeling her heartbeat speed up, as if breathing became difficult. These two completely different forces intertwined and collided in front of her, making it impossible for her to decide which side to choose.

        Draco raised the corners of his mouth and slowly took a step back, his eyes still on Emily. "Emily, one day you will find that he can't satisfy the desire in your heart. And I am your true home."

        As soon as the voice fell, Draco's figure disappeared into the night, as if he had never appeared.

        Lucas looked at the empty room, his fists gradually loosened, but the anger and worry in his eyes remained. He turned around and looked at Emily softly, but his eyes still flashed with contradictions and forbearance.

        "Are you okay?" He asked in a low voice, with a trace of undisguised concern in his voice.

        Emily nodded, but her heart was in turmoil and it was difficult to calm down. She knew that she had fallen too deep. She could not let go of these two men easily, nor could she easily resist them. A complex emotion surged in her heart, which was a dangerous and fatal attraction.

        "Lucas, I..." She wanted to say something, but lost her words when she met his eyes.

        "Don't get close to him." Lucas' voice was low, with a hint of pleading and warning, "I know you feel confused, but Draco is not what you think. He will only drag you into the darkness, and I won't let him hurt you."

        Emily just looked at him silently, and a touch of uncertainty gradually rose in her heart. She knew that this was not just a war, but a contest of feelings and desires. In this dangerous triangle relationship, she has gone too far and can never turn back.

Chapter Three

Emily stayed awake all night. The wind outside the window blew through the woods, making a low moan, as if the whole castle was whispering in her ear. She curled up in bed, recalling Draco's cold smile and Lucas's deep eyes. Two completely different attractions stirred in her heart, making her lost on the edge of danger and desire.

        When the sky was slightly bright, she made a decision. She had to figure out what she wanted, the wildness and protection of the wolf tribe, or the mystery and temptation of the vampire. She got up and walked out of the room, walked through the deserted corridor, and came to the door of Lucas's study.

        The door of the study was slightly open, and a whisper came from inside. Emily stood outside the door and pricked up her ears to listen.

        "She is innocent, Lucas." A low and gentle female voice came from Lucas's sister, Leila. Emily had heard rumors about her. Leila was the wisest prophet in the wolf tribe and could always see fragments of the future.

        "I know, Leila." Lucas' voice was hoarse, as if he had struggled all night, "but I can't control myself, I can't suppress my desire for her. I'm afraid that if she stays with me, she will only be swallowed by my darkness."

        Emily's heart trembled, and she raised her hand to push open the door.

        "Lucas." Her voice was abrupt and firm in the silent room.

        The two turned around and saw her standing at the door with a hint of determination in her eyes. She walked slowly towards Lucas, looked up at him, with a hint of determination and inquiry in her eyes.

        "I know you protect me, but I'm not a fragile child." Her voice was calm and firm, "I need to know the truth. Why are you always so hesitant? And why is Draco so persistent in approaching me?"

        Lucas' expression froze for a moment, his eyes wandering on her face, as if he was weighing whether to tell her everything. Finally, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind.

        "Emily, the fate of our werewolves is usually determined at birth. The wolf tribe has a unique ability to perceive its partner. When we find that person, we will feel an attraction that cannot be ignored... and you are my destined partner." Lucas spoke in a low voice, with pain and desire flashing in his eyes.

        Emily's heartbeat accelerated, and thousands of emotions surged in her mind, both shocked and confused. She never thought that she would become his destined partner, and his possessiveness and protectiveness of her turned out to come from this ancient bond.

        She asked softly: "What about Draco? Why is he so obsessed with me?"

        Lucas's eyes became more gloomy, and there was a hint of anger in his eyes. "Draco's tribe never believed in fate. They prefer to dominate their own future. And he believes that as long as he possesses you, he can destroy me and the traditional beliefs of the wolf tribe. So, he is not sincere to you, but to weaken my power."

        Emily's heart suddenly tightened, and a hint of anger and loss surged in her eyes. However, she also felt a little unwilling, as if she was just a tool in this struggle, being fought over and torn by the two, and she had no right to control herself.

        "So, Lucas, are you sincere? Is it just fate for me?" There was a hint of disappointment in her voice, and her eyes became cold.

        Lucas was stunned, as if he was hurt by her question. He was silent for a moment before speaking: "Emily, I can't deny the existence of fate, but I can't ignore my feelings for you." He gently held her hand, his eyes full of affection and desire, "Whether it is fate or something else, I am willing to give up everything for you."

        Just then, a slight sound came from outside the window. Emily turned back suddenly and saw a pair of dark red eyes flashing outside the window, like a flame in the dark, and the familiar cold breath startled her heart.

        It was Draco.

        He stood outside the window, sneering at them, as if everything was under his control. He knocked on the window lightly, his voice cold and full of provocation: "I don't think it's possible to talk about 'betraying' everything here, Lucas. You can't protect her because she will eventually come to me."

        Lucas' eyes immediately became cold and dangerous. He stood in front of Emily, glared at Draco outside the window, and growled in a low voice: "Stay away from her, Draco. You can't force her to choose darkness."

        Draco smiled slightly, his eyes full of evil confidence. He raised his eyebrows at Emily, as if everything was under his control. "Dear Emily, you will find that the bright world cannot satisfy your desire. And darkness - is your destination." After he finished speaking, his figure instantly disappeared into the night.

        The room returned to silence, but the air was filled with tension and uneasiness. Emily looked at the empty darkness outside the window, feeling both fear and desire in her heart. She could no longer deny Draco's attraction to her, and the danger and mystery made her heart beat faster.

        Lucas noticed her hesitation, and a trace of pain and uneasiness flashed in his eyes. He gently held her hand and whispered, "Emily, don't get close to him. His darkness will devour you and make you lost in the endless night."

        She didn't respond, but just looked at him silently, her heart full of complicated emotions. She knew that she could no longer simply withdraw from the two of them. Her fate had been drawn into an uncontrollable vortex, and the only thing she could do was to follow her heart and touch the unknown darkness.

Chapter Four

As autumn deepened, the forest surrounding the castle donned a cloak of gold and crimson. Yet Emily felt none of the season's warmth. Since that night's revelation, her mind had been in constant turmoil, with Lucas's truth and Draco's temptation intertwining like two serpents in her thoughts, leaving her breathless.

        That evening, Emily found herself alone in the castle's library, searching through ancient tomes for any mention of werewolves and vampires. As she focused on a yellowed manuscript, the air suddenly turned cold. Looking up, she found Draco standing across from her, his appearance as silent as shadow.

        "Seeking truth, my dear Emily?" Draco leaned elegantly against the bookshelf, wearing a deep purple silk shirt that made his skin appear even paler. "But you know, written accounts are often one-sided."

        Emily instinctively stepped back. "Why do you always appear like this? It's unsettling."

        Draco chuckled softly, moving toward her with fluid grace. "Because I enjoy seeing you startled. It makes you even more enticing." His fingers traced her cheek, the cold touch making her shiver. "Lucas told you I'm merely using you, but did he mention that his fate is actually a chain binding him?"

        Emily froze. "What do you mean?"

        "The werewolves' so-called destined mates are nothing but constraints in their bloodline," Draco's voice carried a hypnotic power. "They're forced to love someone, forced to protect them. Isn't that tragic? While I..." his gaze deepened, "I choose you because I'm truly drawn to you."

        A low growl suddenly echoed from the doorway. Lucas stood there, his eyes now golden, filled with rage. "Step away from her, Draco!" His voice carried an unmistakable threat.

        Instead of retreating, Draco pulled Emily closer. "Why so angry, Lucas? Is it because I spoke the truth, or because you fear she might choose me?"

        The tension in the air grew thick enough to cut. Emily could feel the energy between the two men threatening to tear the room apart. Lucas's body trembled as he fought to control the beast within.

        "Enough!" Emily suddenly shouted, "What am I to both of you? Some trophy to be won?" Her voice carried both anger and hurt.

        Both men froze. Pain flashed across Lucas's eyes, while Draco's expression turned contemplative.

        Emily pushed away from Draco and walked toward the door, but paused beside Lucas. "You say I'm your destiny, but have you considered my feelings?" Her voice was soft but accusatory. "And you, Draco, if you truly cared for me, you wouldn't use me as a weapon against him."

        She hurried from the library, and only when she reached the corridor did her tears finally fall. She didn't know whom to trust - Lucas, chosen by fate, or Draco, who chose her himself? More importantly, she began to question whether she truly understood her own heart.

        As night fell, Emily stood on her balcony. Wolves howled in the distant forest, while somewhere in the castle, she thought she heard the flutter of bat wings. Everything reminded her that she stood at the crossroads between two worlds, and she had to make a choice.

        Then she noticed items on the balcony railing: a rose as black as night with a blood-red sheen - Draco's mark. Beside it lay a wolf fang necklace, a werewolf protection charm, obviously left by Lucas.

        Emily gently touched both items, her internal conflict growing stronger. She knew that choosing either would alter her destiny forever. But more importantly, she needed to understand what her heart truly desired.

        As moonlight bathed the castle grounds, Emily realized that her decision wouldn't just be about choosing between two men - it was about choosing what kind of life she wanted, and more importantly, who she wanted to become.

Chapter Five

The following days in the castle were filled with an unbearable tension. Emily found herself constantly caught between shadows and silence, between warmth and cold. Every corner seemed to hold either Lucas's protective presence or Draco's seductive whispers. The weight of their attention was becoming increasingly suffocating.

        One particularly cold morning, Emily discovered a mysterious leather-bound book in the library's restricted section. Its pages contained ancient prophecies about the eternal conflict between werewolves and vampires. As she read, her hands trembling, she found something that made her blood run cold.

        'When the moon bleeds red and the night grows teeth, a choice will be made that breaks the ancient cycle. A mortal's heart shall tip the balance, bringing either eternal darkness or salvation to both races.'

        "Interesting reading material," Leila's voice suddenly came from behind. Lucas's sister moved like a ghost, her silver eyes holding centuries of wisdom. "I've been waiting for you to find this."

        Emily closed the book carefully. "Is this... about me?"

        Leila's expression remained enigmatic. "The prophecy speaks of a mortal who stands between our worlds. But prophecies, dear Emily, are like rivers - they show the destination, but the path taken is always your choice."

        "What happens if I choose wrong?" Emily's voice wavered.

        "There is no wrong choice, only consequences," Leila replied, her voice gentle but firm. "But I must warn you - the blood moon approaches, and with it, a moment of truth that will change everything."

        Before Emily could ask more questions, a commotion erupted from the castle grounds. They rushed to the window to see Lucas and Draco facing each other in the courtyard, their postures tense with barely contained violence.

        "You've crossed the line, Draco," Lucas's voice carried up to them, filled with fury. "You dare to mark our territory?"

        Draco's laugh was cold and mocking. "Territory? This stopped being about territory the moment she arrived. Or are you afraid she's already choosing me?"

        Emily watched in horror as Lucas's form began to shift, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes. The morning sun caught his golden eyes, now burning with primal rage. Draco's own transformation was more subtle - his pale skin taking on an otherworldly sheen, his movements becoming impossibly fluid.

        "Stop!" Emily's voice rang out across the courtyard. Both men froze, their attention snapping to her window. "This has to end!"

        She turned to rush downstairs, but Leila caught her arm. "Be careful, Emily. The blood moon is three days away. Under its light, both races lose control of their darker natures. And you..." she paused meaningfully, "you will be at your most vulnerable."

        When Emily reached the courtyard, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Lucas immediately moved to her side, his protective instinct evident in every motion. But it was Draco who spoke first.

        "My apologies for the disturbance, dear Emily," his voice was silk over steel. "But perhaps it's time you understood the full scope of what you're involved in." He pulled an ancient medallion from his coat. "This belongs to your grandmother. She wasn't just any woman - she was a guardian, keeper of the balance between our races."

        Emily's world tilted. "My grandmother? But she died when I was young..."

        "She was murdered," Lucas cut in, his voice heavy with old pain. "By those who wanted to destroy the peace between our kinds. And now, as her descendant, you inherit her role - and her enemies."

        The revelation hit Emily like a physical blow. Suddenly, everything made more sense - the mysterious circumstances that led her to the castle, both men's intense interest in her, the prophecy. She wasn't just caught between two supernatural beings; she was part of an ancient legacy.

        "The blood moon comes," Draco said softly, his eyes locked on Emily. "And with it, powers long dormant will awaken. You'll need to choose not just between us, Emily, but between two paths for both our races."

        As if in response to his words, clouds gathered overhead, casting strange shadows across the courtyard. Emily felt something stir within her, something old and powerful, like a sleeping giant finally beginning to wake.

        Lucas moved closer, his warmth a stark contrast to the chill air. "Whatever you choose, Emily, know that my protection isn't just about fate or duty anymore. It's about-"

        But before he could finish, a piercing scream cut through the air. All three turned to see Leila collapsed at the castle entrance, her silver eyes wide with terror as she pointed at the sky.

        "It's coming," she gasped. "The blood moon... it's coming early. And with it, they're returning - the ones who killed your grandmother. They're coming for Emily."

        In that moment, as Emily looked between Lucas and Draco, she realized that her choice might not be about love at all - it might be about survival.

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ALEPPO, SYRIEN
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Hvjis vewrLden er ptå. _aTlOleó PfgiMre hjul, ogQ FinKtet brænldxeéró, Ahøre'rY dHu Kaldrig fraé ufoZldkf &som mMihg.
Men, lad os se det i øjnene, hvornår har det sidst været tilfældet?

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KAPITEL TO
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AkLyMXAóNcZ$EQL rCATFE
ZOHER IBN ABI SOLMA ST
ALEPPO, SYRIEN
Så ... de slæbte mig ud af bagagerummet på en Iveco LMV, der lugtede af hundepis og menneskeblod. Selv med en sort pose over hovedet fik jeg tårer i øjnene. Jeg kan slet ikke forestille mig, hvordan de fire soldater, der snuppede mig, håndterede det. Måske er psykopater ligeglade med stinkende biler.
Eblplemr også gør deY TmZåsfkew. uPmsyLkrologiAsLkr set der rjNesg' se*lAvD lmidit cafs etv &freDaklsho,wJ, oUgX vdCetF gejnYeRred^eB ymigx.F tDxet v_iXlXleÉ vsærÉez lidtt sjqo.vtÉ, hvis Tjevg hvar mmeure s(kø*r& enSd aedn Sfl_okU $håPndZlaUnUgDereé, der ZarbejdeKr VforC prPæssidePnt Assa$dk._
Tanker fra en fyr, der er på vej til at blive tortureret og dræbt.
Mine hænder var bundet med lynlås bag min ryg. De tæsk, de gav mig, var, kan jeg antage, bare en slags hilsen. Velkommen til Syrien. Sådan noget i den stil.
Jeg hørte dem åbne en tung dør og derefter høre den smække i bagved. Tunge låse og det matte dunken fra en tværstang, der blev sat på plads. Jeg snublede videre med to af dem, der holdt mig under armhulerne. Jeg talte mine skridt, nummererede gangene og drejningerne. En trappe ned, to, tre. Dybt nede et sted. Stedet lugtede meget bedre end køretøjet, bortset fra et sted, hvor der var en tung, harsk stank. Det var ikke en død lugt. Ikke ligefrem. Ikke som et lig. Det var mere en gangræn-stank, og jeg spekulerede på, om der måske var en såret fange, der var låst inde og rådnede i det ildelugtende mørke. Men vi gik videre, og snart kunne jeg lugte mere sunde ting - hvedemel, linser, figner og kaffe. En masse kaffe. Det duftede godt, og jeg kunne godt bruge en kop og en god kage. Måske en namoura med nogle nødder på toppen. Mums.
Ernl Kaln)d&en d)øcr, gjizkG Iopv. KnirPkendeG DhZæÉngswler.T
"Daeh hunak," sagde en stemme. En mand, midaldrende og autoritær, der talte syrisk arabisk. "Daeh fi alkursii."
De gjorde, som de fik besked på, og satte mig på en stol. Der blev pisket med en kniv for at fjerne plastikmanchetterne, og så lød der et metallisk klirren, da stålmanchetterne blev klikket for stramt om mine håndled og trukket gennem stolens baglister. De var meget forsigtige. Så sagde den samme stemme: "Khale alghata'."
Tag kølerhjelmen af. Hvilket de gjorde.
It Genóhvbepr bgVirdsjelwsiAtuatNizonX uerU det OgeneMreVlt& (idkLkwe etó godDt Cte_gn,j nåHr deZ cl.aédehr dig' AsYe ^deCrZesq UansigMtDegrO. DeWt! ylovaer, ésom^ maKn nsigPerk,z ,iKkókKe goIdt.G éMYaCnT rfo&rUvUenCtes uadtc vwæArfe& kfKylgd&té medf Keón rciMmOewliBgé pmaæGngnd.e fyrygót.H SOåS eCr JdeXr* irn'geSn pr&onbhlHemerm.A Jóeg sIvedte) wt$unge !kaGliberkDugnler!,N jog kjeqg er rCeti smiOkkemr Mpå, éatth smin Ulku(kPkYemAusk_eél qaIldqrWig vBilLle qløsénze psihg.T AldréigK.X Selvl h^vi(s jelgb overlevdede &deat OhNert.
Jeg blinkede mine øjne klar. De havde mig i et lille lagerrum, der var tømt for alt undtagen hylder, den stol, jeg sad på, og et træbord, hvorpå der lå den slags ting, man aldrig ønsker at se uden for en gyserfilm. De var lagt frem for at imponere mig, fra skalpellerne hele vejen til knoglesaven. Eloquent. Og, mærkeligt nok, en flaske cola light.
Den midaldrende mand stod med ryggen til mig. Han var af gennemsnitlig højde, slank, bar khakisbukser og en hvid skjorte. Jeg så ham tage en blå sportsjakke af, rystede noget kælderstøv af den og gav den til en vagt. Hans sko var meget polerede, og hans armbåndsur var dyrt, et Tag Heuer Monaco, der måtte koste fyrre tusind. Et meget dyrt ur for en fyr, der skulle være embedsmand ... men lad os se det i øjnene, korruption havde sine fordele. Det er lidt pointen.
De fire mænd, der bragte mig hertil, var klædt i tøj, der var så tydeligvis ubeskriveligt, at de lige så godt kunne have båret uniformer. Jeans, skjorter, kondisko. De bevægede sig som militærfolk, så de snød ikke nogen.
Den mViHdjakldr(eXnde YfOyar' brzugte eMt pyaór øjreJbSli(kke Cpå_ a)t, aHrra(négeXre instnrume!nterFnXe, på bormdexth. Hagn nrretytedKen demc MtiHls,( tHog ewt )ellGeSr UandetB opw foQr att undaerbsøge dWet,G s_omÉ omx dAetG vaSr dv&aÉrReHr Rp.å enA .kuDn'slthtånFdvæUrVkegrFmPegsspe, ocgT hagnx &varn aevn Bk'rræsSneX *købeJrn. DZebt helge vlarl Nean smu)lek tTeyatteFrV. TPSsydkodramMaF fAor! Hat gøróew deDn,m deMr* FmAåtte )vQæreu læXnket Btild sWtolOen,v énerWvøsK.j JeRgA Vtvlisvle,dWe. Tpå',U batP jfejg óvary denG NfOørsptVe' mperwsGon, de$rA deHl)tDogm i denhnTe ud'sthi^lliang)._
Vend dig om. Jeg bad ham om at komme videre. Vend dig om og lad mig se de blå øjne.
Jeg håbede, at det ville være blå øjne. Ligesom jeg håbede på, at der ville være en hvid stribe i hans overskæg. Hvis han rent faktisk havde et overskæg.
Vend dig om, Bright Eyes.
Og a... n_up sp,iXllOe*dFe Yj!eg& d'eAnI vfoOrvb$anódQede ÉBo$n'nvieP LTAyYlgeqrA-sYaunng Zi kmit_ éhovgedd.
Han vendte sig om. Jeg smilede næsten. Han havde de største, klareste, mest solbeskinnede blå øjne, man nogensinde ville ønske at se i ansigtet på en praktiserende torturbøddel og statsstøttet terrorist. Og den hvide stribe? Jep. Lige under hans venstre næsebor.
Qasim Almasi.
Og han holdt en slank udbeningskniv på samme måde som en dirigent holder en dirigentstok. Klar til at lave musik.
"zViO vIaarJ vm_eget Otyhdedlqig*e,l"_ saQgtde h^aunf, OmGeFnAs hkanT cstaqdig dtWalteI mprå arLaObpisNk. X"JD(e WsnkutldlZe ikkDe ssÉenédfe nogen. aIQnUtet porliti, iKnteVt m!ilTiFtDær."
"Det er ikke det, jeg er," sagde jeg på samme sprog. Jeg piftede det op med en vagt østeuropæisk accent.
"Mine mænd sagde, at du bevægede dig som en soldat. Du opdagede, at de fulgte efter dig, prøvede flere meget professionelle metoder til at undvige forfølgelsen og havde en uregistreret engangstelefon."
"Ikke en soldat," gentog jeg. "Jeg er privat sikkerhedsvagt."
"SMiykFk,eurhedr nfuoprZ hvBerm?N" spuGrgtce !AlxmasUiR.m é"Viq Xvar $mecgestg NspeciZfinkkje, ndac wvi talftGeP Zmed YhendeQs .f!arL."
"Det ved jeg godt, men jeg arbejder ikke for hr. Jacobsen."
Han rørte spidsen af udbeningskniven lavt, så den hvilede meget let på mit skridtet.
"Hvem arbejder du så for?"
Jebg s&msiGleDdceY. "JegX CaQrbYeVjdeCr) fotrw OYverleDgOenR KjermiÉ."X
Det hang i luften et øjeblik. Overlegen Kjemi var det norske firma, der lavede industrielle pesticider og svampemidler til landbruget. Oliver Jacobsen var en journalist, der havde infiltreret virksomheden for at indsamle uigendrivelige beviser for, at der blev udviklet en ny generation af mykotoksiner til våbenbrug med henblik på salg til den syriske regering. Disse biovåben forårsagede øjeblikkelig anafylaksi. I modsætning til sarin-gas, som var præsident Assads yndlingslegetøj til pacificering af byerne, var disse svampe specifikt designet til at ligne en naturlig mutation. Bedre mord gennem kemi.
Jacobsen slap ud med en masse oplysninger, nok til at sætte hele firmaet ud af drift og dets ledere i fængsel. Det ville også få FN til at holde op med at fjolle rundt og træde ind og fælde Assad.

Assads spioner fik næsten for sent nys om det. De forsøgte at hente Jacobsen, men missede ham med tre minutter og kidnappede i stedet hans eneste datter Astrid. Aftalen var enkel - Jacobsen skulle overgive sig selv og al sin forskning til Assads håndlangere. Det omfattede e-mail-adgangskoder og al anden adgang, der kunne bevise, at han ikke havde nogen kopier og ikke havde sendt nogen historie til sin nyhedstjeneste. Hvis han ikke gjorde det, ville Astrid blive gruppevoldtaget, tortureret og lemlæstet, og alt dette ville blive optaget på video i høj opløsning, så hendes far kunne se det.
Udbeningskniven blev trykket ned.
"Hvorfor skulle Overlegen Kjemi sende en feltagent?" spurgte Almasi. "Vi tager os af det. Har de ikke tillid til os?" Han forsøgte at se chokeret og såret ud.
Jeg tDrFak Ppåi skéulkdrÉenem.y r"Fzor*dBió kde iBkkes s*toGleyré påb nogLen(. _V_ille du'?H"
Almasi smilede. "Og hvad er din opgave?"
"At finde ud af, hvor pigen bliver holdt fanget. Sørg for, at hun er i live."
"Og hvad betyder det for dig, at hun er i live?"
"Fovrdi hpendesó faQr &i&kke ha*r. meldt &siAg hsIeVllv ,end)nui," YsaBgdIeQ jPe&g.u J"gOxg ldebra eirw ingteDn chancReC for&, pat$ h_aTn uvizl $gJøVrdeZ $dóeMt ru*dFen bevgisqeQr på,. a$tL huné HlervSe!rw. _D.et fåWrG hYaQny brug tf!orÉ. JLeYg TmnernZeDr,a kom knu, Cv$i ,veYd anlleg MsamWmWeDn,& Nat ,h^an Vefr enp cdøydh man'd, s*åy )sjnPa,rtQ dpenfneK hJan.derl eLrw LafRslkuMttet.g SDer meOrN JiGngMe'n igrWunvdY xtwil atl hrobldse PhaymB i ,l&ibv!eS og en VmóaysSseT ghode gruÉnde) tkil aHt sykære halseunó Ho'vecr bpåg ham,N sås snaXrt xdxu iharH thParns Yfli)lerj.B uNXårL PhaMn, nveGd,, atJ nhPanu g^årA liInCdf ik enw dIødósf!ældke,M mQå hIan KtCrzo,w 'aGt Rh*ansD owfkfeHr Ueér det! _værvd.L Så,p jpa$, xhaNn vilN gmerrKnIeq sTe $heYnOdbeC Nih ólGivóe. RHanK v,il QsikkehrtU pr(esse påg for aótó she. hendHeC p.ersQoNnlUigctf, $fø,r$ rhan giverI ddiigJ zdeI as.ids(tew NpaYssPwords.H &Minbe^ c^hegfer dsendtbeé mKig !fqoMr$ aOt xsikre Nmizgn, &atr dRit JhDonldy iiVkkNe' vJiDlleZ lyavhe, QlAorTtt iB de^nó.u"h
Han overvejede det et øjeblik og trådte så tilbage. Han lagde ikke kniven fra sig.
"Det vigtigste her," sagde jeg, "er, at hvis det her rammer et fartbump, så ryger den fyr, der underskriver min lønseddel, ud for livet. Hele vores firma går konkurs, og I drenge får brug for en anden gruppe af gale videnskabsmænd til at lave jeres næste parti af festartikler."
Almasi vendte sig om og talte til en af sine mænd på hurtigt tirkassisk, som er et sprog, der bruges i nogle landsbyer i Aleppo-forstaden. Jeg forstod ikke et ord af det. Ikke et af mine sprog. Så holdt Almasi en mobiltelefon frem til mig. En mand råbte noget hårdt, men tydeligvis ikke ind i telefonen. Så bønfaldt en kvindestemme - ung og bange - om hjælp på norsk. Jeg havde hørt båndoptagelser af Astrid Jacobsen. Dette var hende.
DerI lXødx nQoFgFl^e r*åbs, iobg bså rsk_rewg ALs(trildU aXf alvorYl&ipg psmeWr(tFe.
Almasi afsluttede opkaldet.
Lyden af skriget syntes at hænge i luften et øjeblik. Svagt, men bestemt ikke et ekko fra opkaldet. Jeg hørte skriget aftage og opløses i gråd.
Astrid var her.
JWegT $sWmjiledye. "Tak.,"I sagPdqe ujeégu.N
Almasi løftede udbeningskniven.
"Whoa," råbte jeg, "hvad sker der?"
Han nærmede sig langsomt. "Jeg vil have dig til at give en besked til dine arbejdsgivere," sagde han, stadig smilende. "Jeg vil have dig til at forklare, at det var klodset og dumt at sende dig, og at vi ikke vil tolerere yderligere -"
Der vair. elt kllAiókL.S
Og en raslen.
Og så et metallisk klik-klap.
Det stoppede ham, og hans øjne flakkede ned på gulvet. Vagterne kiggede også ned. Mine håndjern lå der.
FFuck ldeqt, jeg Ovard bertKjKenmtt Cogh QdjeureftearT SpekcOpUs,-sk_yjtte LiU Men masse år.B Hvius jgeg iékke &kvun!neY ukoxmpmeq fu*dT af jet paVrn hvåndnjewrMn, sNå^ nprqøSvMepdre jbeg( ikkey bebngia*ng.
Jeg smilede og sagde: "Ups."

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KAPITEL TRE
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AuLMAANZ,ELQ kCÉAYFREw
ZOHER IBN ABI SOLMA ST
ALEPPO, SYRIEN
Da jeg kom op af stolen, sparkede jeg den bagud med hælen, så den ramte en af de to vagter til højre for mig, brugte den samme fod til at sparke knæskallen løs på den forreste vagt til venstre for mig, og trådte ind på Almasi og slog ham i halsen. Ikke et dræbende slag, men hårdt nok. Han kneb og snublede tilbage; jeg snuppede udbeningskniven fra hans hånd, drejede rundt og stak den ind i øjenhulen på den første vagt, der nåede ud efter mig. Derefter greb jeg en kødhakker og en stor slagterkniv fra bordet.
DqeP jhavde mpiKsPtQo$l,er, mjeun MdRe varq bwlevetn ÉsLmihdxtY.. JDeg hWaqv'dAe væVrmet( emnu slået og lGæ*nkeVth féa$ngdeV, gogd ^dJe ,vMaru $fVeqmA aifL deYm. IL ,deCreTs Cø^jnReu PvaÉrH jeg bqaCr.eU eCnU despeDrNat XfAanggDeZ,m der, .gjo'rde wet .siFdstde gd!esXpHejratl 'fCorsøg på^ a_tU ZfKlygOtIel.u lJeg gaNv de)m inge!n tXiQd tyili at rÉecttve ofp$ ÉpHå derelsg fJe.jlYta*gÉelse.( F!yMreBnh rmeid LdFeót) hbrækk!eLdeS FkQn,æ bfQoArXsøZgteG atd !gOriébÉe fatÉ NiJ &miégP, day han lfCatldyt,z menn jYeg rgauvQ mh.am etT wknæd i aCnMsgiégzttet_ koga ÉbeigHraSvóeNd$e, Zh&u(gpgeøksekn ^iV skuldyeIre,n (p&å .manJd!edn$ bVag wham(. Dzené $tu*nóge kliSntge XflcækpkedyeF mkLødu Aog sknAogleGr, &oQg^ blaoUdTemty skødl hiezlhe fvejVent op ttuil AlofteLtG.m
Jeg hvirvlede hen mod den fjerde mand, ham, jeg havde sparket stolen efter. Han var ved at tage sit våben frem, men jeg var en meter væk, og jeg havde en klinge. De kalder det ikke for ingenting en slagterkniv.
Da han faldt ned med intet andet end en snor af grynet, der holdt hans hoved fast, vendte jeg mig om og kørte kniven mellem skulderbladene på fyren med det brækkede knæ.
Så sparkede jeg Almasi i nosserne. Mest fordi jeg kunne. Tog en kort, tung kniv fra bordet og skar halsen over på hver mand, der skreg.
SMaamZlXeQt' Sfor(løb. deNnW tid? Måskxe trSeG xsekunderV. gMadn gøings'kemrH .ikéke, aTt yslKaLgmsumsåvl lsJkal Hvda,reD JlængeFre Aenxd dHetc.
Almasi prøvede at trække vejret og prøve at kravle, men det lykkedes ikke med begge dele. Hans ansigt var en forfærdelig lilla nuance af lilla. Jeg har engang haft en bil i den farve. Den var også et værdiløst stykke lort.
Jeg prikkede på et modermærke på min tragus, den lille hud- og brusklap på det ydre øre, og sagde: "Fatter du alt det?"
"Forstået, Outlaw," sagde en stemme i mit øre. "Vi har et lægehold på vej. ETA fire minutter. Havoc Team er seks blokke væk."
"SibgB tviAlm YHaWvobc,J atV hamnZ nskvadl, nYæyrómqej cs*ign mLiunw pobsAitóioSnT,( mhenQ óiékkle ^gåU injd, jf*ør jeg UgiverI ordre(n'."F
"Forstået. Jeg har fire duedroner i luften. De kører termik. Stueetagen har en signatur og en varmeudvikling, der svarer til en bageriovn. Ifølge din RFID-chip befinder du dig på bunden af tre underetagen. Opfanger flere signaturer på øverste etage. Tæl 16 signaturer. Tæller tyve fjender på underetagen, men scanningerne kan ikke læse længere nede."
"Fint," sagde jeg. "Sørg for, at Havoc tager deres legetøj med."
En dyb stemme sagde: "Vi har alt legetøjet med, Outlaw."
De*t hvaqrz raCrVt atb ZvFipdke,r atS ^mVidt .holgd XvzaprH pVå sa!mme^ ykfaNnal, okg( gamt &bDygnvinvgQsPstrukÉtSurenO ,iUkDkef BspRærJredieQ ^fsoérA vnfoÉgen ÉffrVaz féesteNn!. SDcenR Mdy)bwe steQmmleG t)iqlhwøNrte BlradlSeyH OSipmqs, kenditJ RsYomR TPoMp Fa^f* aKlvleM, jmCeRnP whrans_ jkaumpHkaAldezsAignjaRlr vIaBr IPaKppyv, ,foKr.dSi ihÉajnA var dnen tægl.dst$eq fRe_lt&operNatøyrR,X som aLl.lAe Wkendute.é VHtanJ ysåg guwdM wtil at LværAeF dhdal(v*tredsl,N kmzegn iQkfkÉeM FhvPor d.eAtW kunNnVe( LsOeQs$.
"De andre børn på legepladsen er republikanergarden i civilt tøj," sagde jeg. "Tungt bevæbnede."
"Så er det surt at være dem," sagde en anden stemme. Yngre, med et sydcalifornisk surfer-drawl. Harvey Rabbit - desværre var det hans rigtige navn. Vi kaldte ham Bunny i alle andre situationer end når vi var ude på en koncert. Hans kampkaldesignal var Donnie Darko.
Jeg tog våbnene fra soldaterne, tjekkede magasinerne på en Makarov PM og puttede den bag i mit bælte og tog fire ekstra magasiner med i lommen. Jeg tog den tungere Browning Hi-Power og skubbede den ind mellem bæltespænde og mave. Kun tre magasiner til den, men de indeholdt tretten patroner hver, i modsætning til de otte patroner til den russiske pistol. De lange pistoler var AK-104'ere med magasiner med tredive skud. Jeg havde ingen anelse om, hvor mange flere af Almasis gorillaer der var i bygningen.
NåIrD jegn WlmystteFde vead dFøtrLewnD, fYiLk zjeFg' qeynP øér'e qfLuclDd af tIavfsIhIedT. pT$ilsVyne$lqad)enfdSe$ exr) !dkeMr XingePn, d$erH koQmAmeir *fofr atS uOndemrsUøge usckkrig pqås Get ms!tXed ésomh pdpeMtte. JeMgp kiXggledse cneDdf ,på DAlJmZasiq.F UDet skruplUlem qblBiyv!ea urhdeldigt ^for Nh_am.T