To the Death

“But what about me?” asked Shakira, plaintively. “I won’t let you die alone. But I still don’t understand why this cannot be like any other military operation. You try, you fail, then you retreat, regroup, and perhaps someone else takes over as leader. Great victories are sometimes won at the second or third try. It does not have to be all or nothing, every time.”

“This one does, Shakira. This one is to the death.”

“Do you have any real hope of finding him here? This Glasgow is a very big place.”

“I know,” said Ravi. “It’s a kind of surprise after driving all through that amazing lonely country — the Yorkshire moors, then the Lake District, then the border country, and suddenly there’s this giant metropolis right on the banks of the Clyde.”

“And those freeways, it was like being back in London.”

“A long time ago,” said Ravi, “Glasgow was described as the Second City of Empire. After London, that is. And there were a lot of cities in the British Empire. Half the bloody world. It was a very important place.”

“You still haven’t told me what happens to me if you manage to get yourself killed. What am I supposed to do? Where could I go?”

Ravi was once more silent. “You are right in your thoughts. There would be nowhere else for you to go. Because they’d hunt you down and charge you with the murder of Matt Barker. Plus God knows how many other crimes. Shakira, I am pretty hard to kill, and I’m not even considering that possibility. But if we have to die, we die together, like Holy Warriors.”

“Well, I’m sick of this dying business,” she replied. “I’m sick of blowing things up and hating everyone. I’ve been in the West for a long time now, and I can’t think of any reasons why we should go around trying to kill people. I’ve liked nearly everyone I’ve met. I’m not even sure this Admiral Morgan is all that bad.”

Despite the seriousness of Shakira’s mindset, Ravi laughed. He had another bite of his chicken sandwich, principally to give himself time to think up a reply, and then he said, “Sometimes there is a far bigger picture than the little corner we occupy.”

“I’m not in a picture,” she said. “I’m right here in Glasgow eating chicken sandwiches, and I don’t want you to go off and blow this admiral’s head apart with your special bullets, and then get shot by the police. That’s all.”

“Ssssshhhh!” he hissed. “Someone will hear you.”

“And I don’t want to go around being told to ssshhhh for the rest of my life. Why can’t we go back to Ireland? I liked it there. And we could live peacefully, miles away from all this terrorist stuff.”

“Because I’m wanted for murder in County Cork,” replied Ravi. “And there would never be any peace for us. We have just one choice. I have to complete my mission, and then we go back to Gaza or Damascus where we will be protected. We must live in an Arab country, because that’s where we will be looked after for the rest of our lives.”

Shakira made no reply for a full minute. And then she said, “I just have a bad feeling about this mission. And I have not experienced anything like it before. The Americans must know that a Middle Eastern group tried to kill the admiral. And if he stays here, they will have extra security all over the place.

“I think our task will be harder now than it’s ever been. And those Americans will be armed with machine guns. And we know they can shoot straight. I think we should call the whole thing off and Hamas can try again next year. Let someone else take the risk.”

Ravi gazed at her sternly. “Shakira,” he said, “this one is to the death.”

“Even though you might be committing suicide? I mean, how the hell do you think we’ll get away? All those assassins in the past were caught. I read the other day, they got the man who shot President Lincoln, they got that Oswald guy who shot JFK. President Reagan and John Lennon were both shot, and the police got both gunmen. Same with Martin Luther King, and Bobby Kennedy.”

“Hey,” said Ravi, “how come you know so much about assassinations?”

“I read a magazine article about them in the hotel last night. I’ve been saving the knowledge to hit you with it. All those men who pulled the trigger on famous people were caught and tried in a court of law.”

“They didn’t catch me,” replied Ravi. “I walked away scot-free. And I’m still walking.”

“Well, you might be a bit cleverer, that’s all,” she replied. “But your luck may not hold out forever.”

“I assure you,” said Ravi, momentarily stunned by his wife’s insolence, “luck had absolutely nothing to do with it. I walked away because I planned it better.”

“I accept that,” said Shakira, retreating. “But I just wish we could give it up and try to get on with our lives. We’ve both done enough in the cause of Islam. No one could deny that.”