True Identity (Excerpt 25)

An Azad Khebat Story

Woman wearing burka…

His wait was longer than expected, as she worked later than her 5:00 p.m. scheduled departure time. Her work was her life, which came as no surprise, as she was the widow of an Iran-Iraq War veteran. His death had come soon after their marriage and before they had had any children, so she lived alone. This was a major reason why Hassan had selected her to be the one he would replace. She lived alone with no family to check on her or notice her absence.

She worked for about another forty-five minutes before quietly heading home. She lived close enough to walk, which made her easy to follow. He stayed just far enough back in the darkness that he didn’t spook her.

As they arrived, he could see another reason why Hassan would have chosen her. Her small, inconspicuous home sat separate and secluded from the others, making it less likely that anyone would notice what went on inside—not that it mattered, for he had perfected the art of killing discreetly. Tonight, he would be patient as he waited for her to drift off to sleep. Her life would end as she slumbered, and no one would hear a thing.

Mujo waited in the shadows as she entered. Once she was inside, he quietly moved to the back of her home, where Hassan had previously cracked open a window for him to gain entrance. Climbing through to her bedroom, he looked around. As with her life, it was completely unadorned, except for a picture of her late husband that hung above her bed.

The rattle of a pan told him that she was preparing a meal, and he stealthily moved his way toward the front of her house. He watched as she sat down at a small table and quietly consumed a bland meal of rice and beans. It seemed that in all aspects of her life, she had chosen simplicity and survival rather than joy and pleasure. Her life had been defined by the passing of her husband, and it seemed as if she just waited for the day when she would join him once again.

She sat in stoic silence as she ate before placing her dish in the sink and retiring to her bedroom. Through her cracked door, Mujo observed as she undressed. She, of course, thought that she was alone in her home and thus had no need to close it over completely. Having removed her burka, she momentarily stood before him in the form Allah had made her. Although a bit on the plump side, he found her not entirely unattractive, or perhaps it had just been that long since he had been with a woman. She turned, and he caught a quick glimpse of her rather full breasts. He quickly turned away. She was a pious woman, and he would not dishonor her, or himself, in this way.

He waited in complete silence for her to drift off to sleep. It didn’t take long, as her daily routine left her exhausted and uninspired. Slowly, he crept into her room. Standing over her, he uttered prayers to Allah for what he was about to do. Reaching over to grab the pillow next to her, he whispered, “Allah Akhbar,” before placing it over her face. Several moments of muffled screams and struggle followed before she succumbed. He could feel the life leave her body as she fought for her last breath. He closed her eyes and covered her with blankets to lie in peace. Closing the curtain, he ensured that she would not be discovered for a few days, long after his mission was complete, and he was out of the country.

Samuel Griswold

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