CHAPTER 8

1251 ASSASSINS!

 

Many thousands of farsekhs away, deep in the mountains bordering the Caspian Sea in Persia, news of the temporary Regency by a woman reached an infamous leader of men. Sometimes called The Old Man of the Mountains, Ala'uddin Mohammed of the Isma'ili was a self-proclaimed Mohammedan Prophet and the tyrannical master of a string of strongholds secreted in the mountainous region.

In search of adventure, young men came to Ala'uddin's impregnable castle. They had heard tales of Paradise within the forbidding fortress walls. To lure and entice these young men to come under his power, he had created within the confines of the fortress a garden, nourished by running spring water; a garden with flowers, fruit, milk, honey and a harem for the taking. On entering the fortress the aspirants were offered a drink laced with a sleeping drug and when they woke up they found themselves in the idyllic garden. There were women there to dance, attend and entertain them in every way. Initiation to the sect flourished and the young men, as recompense to Ala'uddin if they wanted these favours to continue (and all of them did), were trained to do his bidding and shown to kill silently, efficiently, with one upward thrust of a knife. Ala'uddin and his commanders gave them hookah pipes to smoke, but what they smoked was never tobacco. Instead, they smoked the weed hashish, from whence sprang the name of this notorious sect - the Assassins.

For over a century, should someone wish an enemy to be murdered, they would call on Ala'uddin or his paternal predecessors to send one or more of his young men to carry out the murder. Ala'uddin would drug the chosen assassin as he sated himself in the Garden of Paradise so that, when he woke up again, he had been returned to the dark and unwelcoming fortress. To return to the Garden of Paradise, Ala'uddin would tempt him with the promise of everlasting pleasure, should he be successful in his task. An assassination attempt very rarely failed.

The Saracens and Christians throughout Persia were fearful and respectful of this powerful leader, lest they should be the next on the killers' list.

News reached Ala'uddin of the death of Guyuk Khan and that a woman, acting as Regent until a new Khan was elected, had dispatched an army, led by the Mongol Baron Kitubuka Noyan, to rid the area once and for all of the threat of the assassins.

Certain in the knowledge that all his fortresses were impregnable, even from a Mongol siege army, Ala'uddin and his sons conceived an audacious plan. They took four hundred of the best, proven young assassins from each of his strongholds throughout the mountains, inflamed them with religious zeal into believing that, by Ala'uddin's command as a Prophet, they were going on a holy jihad to save the Muslim world, and sent them on the most audacious mission he had ever conceived - to kill the successor to the Mongol throne and all his family ...

---oo0oo---

From all parts of the vast Mongolian Empire they arrived - delegates and ambassadors who came to offer their allegiance and tributes to the newly-elected Mongke Khan. Karakorum became saturated with people whose skins were white, yellow, red, brown or black, from as far south as India, as far east as the vassal Chinese states, as far north as the high tundra and as far west as Persia. The streets were alive with music, the chatter of many tongues, and the smells of many different foods cooking. At night rockets and crackers were set off, illuminating the sky with their coloured flares. From China came a large group of dancers, tumblers and acrobats who performed in the open market square, paid by collection after every exciting performance.

The four hundred assassins did not all enter Karakorum together. Instead, they came in in small groups, on the backs of horses, mules, camels and any other conveyance they could beg, borrow or steal from the surrounding countryside. Dirty, smelly and ragged from their arduous journey along the Silk Road, people gave them what they wanted to be rid of them. They avoided conflict of any kind, as they did not wish to alert the Mongols by perpetrating needless murders as they approached Karakorum. Secrecy was of the utmost importance. They watched, waiting until all their band had reached their journey's end. They infiltrated the mosques, the eating places, the caravanserais, surruptitiously listening to Muslims talking, asking the occasional question when they saw a Mongol dignitary in the streets. Every time a Mongol military patrol escorting a civic dignitary passed by they melted into the shadows, their faces covered and only their eyes, their burning, fanatical eyes, glinting. They had to know who to kill ...

---oo0oo---

Commander of One Hundred Aftab, who now commanded the troop exclusively detailed to guard Ahmad, was riding alone through the Turkic sector of the city one evening when his Arabian horse started limping. Realising the horse had picked up a stone in his hoof, Aftab dismounted and led the animal to the side of the road. He lifted the horse's leg to inspect the damage, comforting and soothing the highly-strung animal as he did so. As he prised the stone out, he heard voices coming from a nearby hovel. Two men were talking animatedly in Arabic. He continued to attend to the animal whilst pressing his ear to the wall.

"Here, have another smoke!"

"Mmmmmm! Yeee-ahhhh! Oh, so good! See! I can fly! Wheeeee!"

"Shhh! No noise - you know what the Master said! No drinking or smoking until afterwards! Then we can have all that we want!"

"But when?"

"Haven't you heard? Tomorrow night, after the show! They will all be together in the Palace then, the Master says. With so many of us, it will be a simple matter to ..." Aftab heard a throat-slitting noise, then the voice continued "and then we, the Isma'ilites, will rule Karakorum!" The men laughed raucously.

Aftab froze in shock as he realised the implications of what he had just overheard. He had to get back ... He felt the touch of cold steel against his throat. He thought he was going to die.

"One word and you're dead!" An Arab, black cloak covering him from head to foot, straddled him, the knife in his hand pricking the skin on Aftab's neck. "Get up!" he commanded, standing aside to let Aftab rise. Aftab staggered to his feet. "Inside!" he said, pushing Aftab roughly in the direction of the hovel.

Aftab stumbled into the stinking, drugsweet-smelling room. The two occupants jumped up in surprise at the unexpected intrusion. "Master! Who?"

Aftab's captor pushed him to the floor and again applied the knife. "How much did you overhear?" the leader said.

"Overhear? I don't know what you mean. My horse had a stone in his hoof and I was merely removing it!" Aftab hoped he was believed. He was not.

"How much did you hear?" the man was shouting now, the knife tip had pierced Aftab's skin and he felt warm blood trickling down his neck.

"Nothing! In the name of Allah, I swear - I heard nothing!"

Aftab saw the doubt flickering in the assassin's eyes. "Pah! Maybe you didn't hear anything, but I cannot take that risk. You two sons of camels - tie him up, take him somewhere quiet and kill him! I must go to make final preparations. Remember - no drinking and no smoking! You must remain alert at all times! Be in your alloted positions promptly tomorrow night!" and with a flourish of his long cloak, the Master Assassin was gone.

The two remaining conspirators tied and gagged Aftab then hustled him outside at knifepoint. They led him in the direction of the cemetary. While they were walking Aftab worked at freeing the knots and, just as they reached the secluded spot, the final knot came loose. The assassin was raising his knife to strike Aftab in the back when he spun round, gripped, twisted and broke the man's arm. His other assailant's knife flashed, slashing Aftab's shirtsleeve. In a single movement Aftab ducked under the return swing and kicked the weapon out of the man's hand. The first assassin's knife lay at Aftab's feet. He picked it up and, with the same movement, embedded the knife in his would-be killer's heart. The injured man, in trying to escape his pursuer, stumbled over a stone. Aftab did not need a second chance.

---oo0oo---

"My Lord Ahmad, I must speak with you - right now!"

Head bowed over complicated calculations of how much food would be needed for a banquet that Jamui wished to give, Ahmad did not look up as he said "Must, Aftab? What is so urgent that it can't wait till the morning?"

"My Lord, something strange. I - oh!" Aftab's legs buckled from under him and he collapsed. It was then that Ahmad saw the blood on Aftab's sleeve.

"Allah preserve us, Aftab! You're hurt!" Hurriedly he took a cloth, dipped it in water, then cleaned and bound the wound. Aftab slowly came to again. "What happened?"

"I was - attacked." Aftab said, his dark eyes focusing again. He took the proffered drink of water from Ahmad and sat up. "My Lord, I have recently observed groups of men arriving in town - Muslim men, like us, but not like us, very poor, from farther west, by their accents. They meet at street corners, or in eating places, or outside our holy mosque. My Lord, they have a strange look in their eyes - intense, glazed almost. They whisper, but stop when anyone approaches within hearing distance, glaring threateningly until people pass them by, then they put their heads together again to resume their deep discussion."

"How many of them are there, do you estimate?"

"I cannot tell, my Lord, but they seem to be everywhere. I paid little attention to it until tonight. My Lord, I was attacked by their leader, tied and gagged. I am fortunate to be still alive, because I overheard them saying that they are going to try to kill the Imperial family tomorrow night, after the banquet!"

Ahmad's mind was racing. "Tomorrow night, you said?"

"Yes, after the banquet."

"Then there is little time! Go to my Chinese doctor, get your injuries attended to. You have served me well tonight, Aftab!" Ahmad said as he donned a black bournous over his colourful clothing and hurriedly left his apartments.

Ahmad kept to the shadows as he made his way to the Palace of Viceregent Mahmoud Yalavach. His palace gates were locked and the two guards posted at the entrance crossed their spears to debar Ahmad from admission. "What is the meaning of this? Let me in at once!" he demanded.

"I am sorry sir," said one of the guards, "The Viceregent has retired for the night and has given us strict orders to admit no-one."

Forced to reveal his identity, Ahmad uncovered his face. "Do you know who I am, imbecile? I am Ahmad Fanakati and I come on a matter of life and death - his, mine and possibly your own as well! Admit me, now!"

The guard escorted Ahmad into the Palace and woke Yalavach's major domo, who scurried to comply with the angry Ahmad's commands.

Realising it must be important Yalavach, dismissing the woman in his bed, instructed the major domo to allow Ahmad admission to his inner sanctum. Ahmad gave his superior a flowing salaam. Yalavach spoke. "This is not a social visit at this time of night, is it, Ahmad?"

"No, my Lord, it is not. I have - a problem - which I would like to discuss with you - Saracen to Saracen, as it were."

"Saracen to Saracen, Ahmad? What do you mean by that?"

"Commander Aftab came to me this evening to tell me of a large group of Turks who are spread throughout the city. He has described them as unkempt, wild-eyed and congregating in small groups, discussing something intensely. He overheard them plotting to kill the Imperial family tomorrow night after the banquet. He was attacked and restrained but managed to escape. My Lord Yalavach, I am sure that they are Assassins!"

"Allah preserve us!" Yalavach thought for a moment. "How many of them are there?"

"At a guess, there could be as many as three hundred, maybe even more."

"Allah! This is serious, Ahmad!"

"Indeed it is - for our Mongol overlords!"

"What do you mean, Ahmad?"

"That is the nature of my quandary, Lord Yalavach. If these men succeed in their task, the world will be freed of the Mongols' tyrannical rule. We would no longer be slaves, but free men again."

"What are you suggesting?"

"That we take no action."

"And do nothing to prevent it happening?"

"We understand each other."

"And what would happen to us? We serve the Mongols, and they reward us well. Will the Assassins consider us to be traitors to our people and come after us as well?"

"Allah! I had not thought of that!"

"Even if they don't, do you want an end to this life of ease? And, do you want your beloved Jamui dead, too?"

"They will not harm the women!"

"Oh, no?" Yalavach's eyes were slitted, calculating.

A sudden mental image of Jamui lying dead in a pool of blood made Ahmad shudder. For the first time, doubts flitted through his mind. He realised he had overstepped the mark with Yalavach. "My Lord, I have said too much!"

"No, Ahmad, we have merely discussed the situation fully from every viewpoint - Saracen to Saracen. Leave the matter to me!"

---oo0oo---

Wishing to show a high profile amongst his subjects, Mongke Khan invited the band of Chinese acrobats to perform in front of him. A special pavilion was erected in the square outside the Grand Palace and, at the alloted time of evening, with much ceremony Mongke and Batu, together with their wives and families, were seen to mount the steps and take their places, waiting for the performance to begin. Security seemed to be relaxed in a desire to make a show of trust to the people. Crowds milled in the large square and the guards outside the Palace doors watched the preparations for the show with interest. So intent were they that they did not notice the beggars' approach until too late. There was a flash of steel and, a moment later, two other men, dressed in Mongol clothing, but taller and leaner than the Mongols and without the characteristic Mongoloid high cheekbones, stood guarding the open South Gateway. They relied on people's lack of observation on their presence not being detected.

One by one, men dressed in long, black robes, their faces obscured except for their glittering eyes, slipped unobserved into the Palace grounds and quickly secreted themselves in any hiding places they could find.

Torches were lit around the impromptu stage and, amidst hisses of appreciation, the entertainers took the floor. It was a truly spectacular show, with tumblers, jugglers, dancers and escapologists all showing their skills to the new Khan and his Regent, Batu. Equally spectacular were the acrobats who threw lance at one another, the 'targets' nimbly evading the certain death promised should they mistime their movements. The hisses of appreciation changed into applause and cheers as skyrockets were again set off in a spectacular aerial display of pyrotechnics. All eyes went skywards to watch the show. All eyes, that is, except those glittering dark ones, intent now on the nearness of the fulfilment of the so-called Prophet Ala'uddin's master plan.

All too soon the evening's entertainment was over, and the happy throng dispersed and went their separate ways home for the night. Palanquins were brought for the Khan and his retinue, who were returned under cover to the Palace grounds.

The silence of the night descended, with only flickering pitch torches to illuminate the darkness. One by one, darkness on darkness, the secluded assassins moved within the Palace to take their assigned victims. It mattered not to them who would die - everyone within the Palace complex were targets which, at that time, included Mongke, Batu, their wives and children and, of course, the civil servants who lived there, too.

Into the halls, into the corridors, then into the bedrooms where still forms lay. But, as knives glinted, poised to flash down into the sleeping forms, the gasps of surprise did not come from the sleepers, but from the assassins themselves, as fully-armoured Palace guards sprang up from where they lay to thrust their own swords deep into the unprotected bodies of the would-be murderers. The cries of the dying assassins rang through the corridors of the Palace that night, and the floors ran red with blood.

Not all of the Assassins were killed in the act of killing. Some, wounded, ran out to try and warn their compatriots. As they ran out of the Palace building they were cut down by a hail of Mongol arrows. In the innermost sanctum of the Khan's palace one man still stalked the corridors. The man the faithful called The Master, who was Isma'il, son of Ala'uddin, had evaded the Imperial Guard. Backing away from a group of running troops, he did not see Aftab behind him. Aftab's scimitar swished on its horizontal path, and the leader of the Assassins fell dead.

None of the Mongol families, nor their senior civil servants, perished that night. They had all been taken, under cover of darkness that bloody night, to a well-guarded fortress on the hills surrounding the River Orkhon, there to stay until the Assassin threat had been obliterated. The Mongols the populace had seen watching the tumblers' troupe were not Mongke, Batu and their families but Sung prisoners from battle skirmishes. Had an attempt been made during the show, it would not have mattered to Mongke if these captive people had been murdered. As it was, for their services to the State and in his magnanimity, Mongke decreed that all the prisoners who had stood in for them would be freed and returned to their own tribes.

---oo0oo---

The next morning, when all the bodies had been cleared and the blood washed away, Mongke Khan and Batu, back in the Palace, held a Council meeting. Present were, amongst others, Viceregent Yalavach, Hulaku and Kubilai, Mongke's brothers.

Still raging at the audacity of Ala'uddin's plot to usurp the Mongol state, Mongke knew what he wanted.

"Hulaku, my brother! How you always long for action!"

"I do, my Lord Khan!" confirmed his younger brother.

"Well, then, now you will have all the action you want! These Isma'ilites have been a thorn in the side of the Khanate for far too long and this - outrage!" Mongke was trembling with barely suppressed emotion. Regaining control, he continued. "Hulaku, you will take an army and proceed to Persia and Syria. There, your army will supplement that of Kitubuka Noyan, sent out by Oghul-Qaimish, and together you will completely wipe out every single Assassin stronghold. Needless to say, you will also raze the strongholds to the ground so that no trace can be detected. You will kill, in any way you see fit as just retribution, the so-called Prince of the Assassins, Ala'uddin. Having done that, you will set yourself up as Khan of All Persia and ensure that no other such uprising will ever occur again!"

"My Lord, I will!" Hulaku saluted and marched importantly out of the audience hall, flanked by his generals.

Turning next to his other brother, Kubilai, he said: "To you, brother Kubilai, I entrust the suppression and the subjugation of Yunnan, then all of China, especially the Sung Dynasty! Take as large an army as necessary, but do not fail!"

"I will not fail, my Lord Khan. My Lord, may I make a request?"

"Humph. Very well, then." Mongke waved his assent.

"I could not bear to be parted from my wives and ladies for the length of time that such a campaign will take. I request, my Lord Khan, that I take my household with me - travelling in the centre of my armies, they will not be subjected to danger."

"Hm. It will add considerably to the cost of the campaign, and already Hulaku's expedition will cost the Treasury a great deal. We will need more money, Yalavach!"

"My Lord, may I speak?" Yalavach spoke whilst prostrating himself before his Khan. Mongke indicated assent and Yalavach raised himself to a kneeling position.

"My Lord, our subject peoples are already heavily taxed. Once, of course, my Lords Hulaku and Kubilai successfully subjugate the Persians, Syrians and Chinese, then we will have many millions more people that we can tax to run the State, but already the burden is great!"

"Then, Viceregent, I would suggest you find other ways in which to tax our subjects! Now, there is another matter I would speak to you on. One of your Saracen associates warned you of this Assassin attack, you said?"

"Yes, my Lord. It was Ahmad Fanakati."

"Fanakati, eh? He is attached to the Khatun Jamui's court, is he not, Kubilai?"

"Indeed he is, Lord Mongke. He is most adept at figures and has an astute mind."

"Hm. I see." Mongke stroked his beard pensively. "Summon him to me!"

Ahmad, who had been with Jamui's court at the fortress, had nevertheless been keeping well out of the way since his interview with Yalavach, frightened lest Yalavach would report his traitorous suggestion.

A Mongol court messenger presented himself to Ahmad. "My Lord Ahmad, The Khan of All Khans requests your presence immediately at court!"

Ahmad felt his heart skip a beat and a pang of fear knotted his stomach. He immediately jumped to the conclusion that Yalavach had told on him, and his first instincts were to flee. His eyes shot from right to left of the waiting guard. "Ah, yes, in a moment, guardsman! You may go, I will follow behind."

"My orders are to accompany you personally, my Lord. Now!"

Caught! Nothing for it but to go to his fate! With legs like jelly, Ahmad walked beside the guard and, on entering the audience chamber, prostrated himself in front of the Khan.

"Rise, Fanakati!" the Khan's gruff voice rasped. As Ahmad stood in front of Mongke and Batu, he recognised Yalavach, Hulaku and Kubilai amongst others seated around a nearby table. Yalavach's face was impassive, unrevealing. He waited for the Khan to speak.

"Viceregent Yalavach has told me of your conversation with him!" Ahmad broke out into a cold sweat. Oh, Allah! he thought, shaking with fear and apprehension. He has informed on me! I'm dead! "Yes, Ahmad Fanakati." the Khan was continuing. "You have done a great service to the Khanate!" A look of surprise came over Ahmad's face as the Khan continued. "You have saved the whole of the ruling family from being assassinated where they slept with your intelligence and loyalty. For that, you will be well rewarded! Here, catch!" and the Khan threw a red object towards Ahmad, who caught it adeptly and held it up for inspection. A ruby! A very large, beautiful, ruby, worth a fortune in the gem markets!

"My Lord Khan, a thousand thanks!" Ahmad salaamed deeply, already calculating what the gift would buy him.

"But that is not all, Ahmad Fanakati! Tell me, what is your preference?"

"Preference, My Lord Khan?"

"Boys or women, Fanakati!"

"Oh! Women, of course, My Lord! I have wives ..."

"But you want many more sons, no?" He made a somewhat basic gesture.

"Yes, My Lord, I do."

"Well, you have my permission to choose five of my concubines that I have not yet used. Take them - they're yours!"

"M-my Lord is most generous!" Ahmad stammered in amazement.

"One more thing, Ahmad Fanakati. You have served the Khatun Jamui well. Viceregent Yalavach holds you in high esteem. I am sending Kubilai to subjugate the province of Yunnan in China and to establish a capital of his own. Once he has done so you, and your household, will attend him. When he becomes overlord of the Chinese you will, as his Minister of Finance, institute taxes on them. Mind you, do not overburden them, but make sure they are able to feed us, as well as themselves!"

Ahmad could not believe his ears! He had, albeit at some time in the future, been given high office, and all the power and status that would bring! Power! At last, within his reach! He felt a soaring elation that his ambition was soon to be fulfilled. He looked over to Yalavach, who was smiling and nodding his head approvingly.

---oo0oo---

Later, when Ahmad had an opportunity to speak to Yalavach, he asked him about the preceding events.

Yalavach laughed heartily. "You should have seen your face, Ahmad! It was a picture!" He collapsed in helpless mirth. Ahmad did not see the funny side at all.

"I had hoped that my - discomfiture - did not show through." he stated flatly.

"Oh, it showed through all right! You should have gone before you came! The Khan asked me why you were so nervous in his presence, and I had to say that you were a naturally nervous person! Luckily, he believed me!"

"Then, why didn't you tell him?"

"We Saracens, Ahmad, must stick together. Our Saracen Creed, as you know, states that we protect our own interests and colleagues from the dangers of the world. I must confess I was, as you were, tempted to let events take their course, but things have turned out better for us all this way, have they not?"

"It will mean a major upheaval and yet another long journey to endure but the Khatun Jamui will ensure that, when we travel, it will be in as much comfort as conditions permit."

"It will take some time for the expeditions to be successful, Ahmad. Incidentally, did you notice the Arab and the Chinese who sat beside me?"

"Yes, I did. Who are they?"

"Alandar and Liu T'ai-P'ing. Alandar is Mongke's Financial Adviser and Liu is his Finance Minister."

"Hm." responded Ahmad, thoughtfully. "Are they dangerous?"

"Well, I said just now that Mongke believed me, which is true. However, after you left the Audience Chamber I overheard the two of them speculating why you were so nervous in the presence of the Khan and were coming up with some interesting ideas."

"Such as?"

"Oh, cooking the Imperial books; an illicit liaison with one of the brothers' wives, things like that. I should imagine that, if they see you as a threat to their positions, they will dig up and throw as much dirt in your direction as possible. As far as I'm concerned, you may make your fortune in any way you can - I have no intention of endangering your position here. But I would advise you to be very wary of them. They are powerful men and know how to use their power.

"Now, speaking of the Saracen Creed." continued Yalavach. "I have someone I would like you to meet, Ahmad!" and Yalavach clapped his hands to summon a Chinese servant. "Bring in our guests!" he ordered. The servant quickly returned, escorting two men, one middle aged and with a long, pepper-snd-salt beard, the other a teenager, both dressed as Saracens. "Ahmad, I'd like you to meet Shams Ad-Din and his son Nasr." Ahmad bowed in the Saracen fashion, and the two newcomers responded in kind. Ahmad eyed them with suspicion. Were they to be rivals too? Yalavach continued his introduction. "Shams and his family have just arrived here. They come to me highly recommended by my son Mas'ud." Yes, rivals! thought Ahmad. "Perhaps you knew one another in Bukhara?"

"No, Lord Yalavach." answered Shams. His voice was light, his brown eyes open and frank. "I was appointed to your son's staff after Ahmad left. I have, however, heard much about him."

"All good, I trust." replied Ahmad smoothly, weighing the other man up.

Yalavach was speaking. "Get to know each other better - you have much in common! Shams is going to work in Prince Kubilai's Palace, so you will be seeing each other quite a bit, I should think."

"In what capacity, Lord Yalavach?" enquired Ahmad.

"Tell him, Shams."

"I am to be your chief assistant, Lord Ahmad."

---oo0oo---

Back in his apartments later, Ahmad looked up as Aftab entered the room in answer to his summond. "Ah, Aftab. I have a two tasks for you. See if you can find any useful information on Liu, Alandar and the new Saracen, Shams Ad-Din. Take this purse to be going on with." The clink of coin sounded heavy on the table. Aftab reached out for the moneybag. Ahmad's hand clasped his wrist. "Make it good, and make it true!" he hissed.

"Your wish is my command, My Lord Ahmad."

---oo0oo---

Late one night a week later, Aftab requested an audience with Ahmad. "I have some interesting information, My Lord. Shams Ad-Din has some - unusual - nocturnal habits."

"Oh? Tell me!" Ahmad rubbed his hands together in glee, a smile on his face as he indicated Aftab to sit beside him on the multicoloured silk cushions.

Sitting cross-legged beside Ahmad, Aftab spoke softly. "He has been seen 'with' boys."

"Allah protect us! But he's married! His son ..." Aghast at his thoughts, Ahmad's mouth fell open. "His son?"

"Amongst others."

"You have done well, Aftab. What about Liu and Alandar?"

"Well, now, that's something quite different. Look!" Aftab produced a sheaf of bark paper.

"Aha!" Ahmad smiled as he read what was printed thereon. "Aftab, take this. You have more than earned it!" and Ahmad threw another weighty purse full of coins to Aftab, who caught it adeptly.

Ahmad looked at the paper again, and started to laugh. Aftab joined in, and the sound of vindictive laughter echoed round the room.

---oo0oo---

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