Part 2: The Job

“This place smells funny,” complained Muhammad in Persian.
“Khafeh,” Shaheeda warned, whacking him on the head. “You’re lucky no one here speaks Farsi.”
The other passengers looked at them, confused as to what tongue they were speaking. After all, Muhammad was evidently Afghan while Shaheeda was “blasian”. However, they went about their business.
“What will we do when we get to Port Said?” Muhammad asked.
“Catch a boat to Anatolia, of course,” she replied.
“What if we get caught?” he inquired.
“We won’t,” she assured him. “Besides,” she said smiling. “If we get caught, you’ll never get to marry Hatice.”
“Don’t remind me of that,” he said. “That girl is so annoying! Ugh!”
“If you don’t marry her, who will you marry? No one else would take you, mate.”
“If no one else takes me, I’ll just marry you!” he said, putting her in a headlock.
Shaheeda promptly stomped on his foot.
“OW!” he yelped.
Shaheeda smiled again. “Just go to sleep,” she told him. “We’re a long way from our destination.”

---

“Sir, a guard was reported dead outside the palace,” said the guard.
“Dead?” Asim questioned. “Who would dare kill one of our guards?”
“We don’t know sir. And no one saw who did it.”
He thought a moment. “Perhaps a disgruntled citizen, who opposes our rule. When you find out who it is, tell me. Perhaps they’ll lead us to more traitors.”
“Yes sir!” he said.

---

Mehmet Pasha paid the cloaked man in front of him.
“You’ll get it done, right?” he asked.
“Sure, easy peasy,” came the reply.
Mehmet nodded. He had been in contact with Nic Furia for a while now, a mole in Asim’s ranks. Now, he was engaging in sabotage. While this wouldn’t be big, it certainly would scare Asim. But if the man was caught, he might point the finger at Mehmet, and that was dangerous. Every day, he prayed he wouldn’t see soldiers at his door, ready to arrest him for treason. It was dangerous, but Mehmet was dedicated.
Dedicated to saving his country.