Agent 47-D (Part III)

In the Name of Allah

The situation she was now in was very similar to the one involving Fitzpatrick. Agent 47-D had been born from it and her life had started changing for the best, until it reached the peak of true and most welcome satisfaction. Thanks to her special abilities, she was given a brand-new house, two vehicles of her choice and an income that was more than enough for her needs at the time. Being a natural spender, she obviously found new ones, new desires in which to burn her salary to the crisp.

After finishing college, she and her best friend Delia Roberts opened up a clinic for the mentally disturbed. It turned out to be a successful enterprise, but she never actually worked there. Her special assignments caused her to travel much throughout the world and time simply became insufficient to allow her to do a good job on that area. Delia got the fame and glory of the project. She gave in the money whenever needed.

The loving memories of that marvellous day and subsequent achievements walked silently with her until she reached the muslin’s private quarters and the short-haired guard at the door granted her access in.

The servant of Islam gave her a cold look, as she invaded his space. Solitude and isolation didn’t bother him at all, but the same could not be said about her presence, especially given the fact that she was going against some of the most sacred principles written in The Koran by showing herself in such libidinous outfits. If it were Mohammed being locked there, he would certainly abhor such manifestation of western decadence. That belief was reason enough for him to raise his eyebrows to the camera, make an obscene gesture with his finger and practically scream in a noisy desert dialect. It seems he was demanding respect for his religious principles, but no one in the Surveillance Room heard him: the camera had no audio signal—only the images were patched through.

When he was finished with his complaints, Alexandra knocked on the door to call the guard and asked for a chair, as she really didn’t feel like standing. The fatigue of the aerobics exercises was beginning to make her legs grow numb, threatening her delicate balance. The chair was there in less than a minute. She sat and observed the prisoner, placing one hand over her thighs and the other playing cheerfully with the trinket, making it spin soundlessly, giving it a whirl to attract some concealed source of light or simply caressing it with her ivory-black painted fingernails.

The man who was considered to be The United States’ Public Enemy Number 1 was curled up on the floor, dressed in fluttering white garments with fine golden embroideries on the sleeves. His greyish hair was loose and in complete disarray. Next to him stood a metal plate with some greasy food (she was pretty sure it was pork, yet another provocation!) and a bowl filled with tap water. None of the referred sustenance had been touched, and truth be told, none of them smelled nicely either.

I bet these details won’t be filed on any report…” she thought. Her face became rigid and she spoke to him for the first time, making use of undisguised irony and a low tone of voice.

“Good afternoon. I hope you’re enjoying our stay here with us. My name is Alexandra Ryder and although I know the basics of your language, I won’t use it for I also know you understand mine quite well. I must say I never thought I would be face to face with you in a cell, but I’m fairly glad this happened. That way, I get to have my share of delight…

I can guess what you’re thinking as I make this opening speech of mine: you’re most certainly wondering who I am and why I was sent here to see you. I’m not really allowed to divulge such information to you, nor can I tell you the exact location of this base of ours as I am sure you understand, but I can tell you that we have something in common: that’s right, we both believe in a higher power that gives meaning and purpose to the world. I think I can say we’re both religious persons, even though my own set of beliefs is somewhat different from yours. If one is better than the other or not, that’s not something I think about much, for it’s such a futile and trifling question in the end, isn’t it? I don’t know if you agree with me on this, but you also probably believe that there are certain things in which we shouldn’t think at all… it’s so tiresome to be thinking all the time… you don’t really get to enjoy life at all with that attitude… that’s why I often pause my flow of thoughts from time to time so that I can really cease the moment and understand with my heart, not with my brain. I know it’s not an easy thing to do… to just relax and let go in a simple and smooth way… Somehow, thinking always shows up in-between, disrupting the peace and quiet my self truly desires… in order to prevent that from happening, I usually grab something in my hand and I make it move around my fingers as if my soul is sliding along with it, drifting into a mellow horizon that lies far, far away…

Since your hands are empty at the moment and you’re obviously feeling a little tense for being trapped in such a small space, perhaps you would like for that stress to go away by looking at how I give life to this crescent, a symbol which I understand you cherish very much… it represents power, doesn’t it?… power, strength, control… oh, my… I can really see why now that it’s moving in small circles and each movement is deeply locked with the movement after and the movement before, creating a rhythmic chain that seems to engulf my eyes, drawing my attention in the same way it is drawing yours… making me want to keep looking at it and follow its sequential path without feeling the need to think why this is happening, in fact, giving away all the burden of wide-awakeness and simply melt in it… melt by looking at its moving reflections, melt by realizing that everything is so much more obvious in its colour and winding shape and that if it feels good to slowly be relinquishing all your energies in observing it, then it’s almost certain that the same thing should happen by guiding some of that attention into the person that makes it move.

The relaxation you’re feeling taking control of your mind right is also a product of my gestures, it lives in my voice. If this crescent fascinates you, which I know it does, and I’m the one responsible for it, I truly believe that your drooping, melting soul is equally ensnared by me and that giving into it, is the same thing as giving yourself to me.

Being the symbol of Islam, this crescent represents the power of the Almighty Allah, the god you serve with every action you take, the god you invoke when calling out for the Jihad, the one that apparently rejoices when a suicide bomber blows up himself and takes the lives of many innocent people along the way… when you look into it, you’re looking into the manifestation of the god itself, and I’m the one pulling the god’s string… yes… if you love Allah, you love me… Drawn as deeply as you are right now, your non-thinking brain is wishing only to submit to the crescent, to acknowledge its power… you’re renewing your faith with each passing second, making Allah very pleased, making me very pleased… The pleasure from that renewal is vivid, intense, and completely addictive. You know this is true… you’re addicted to it… addicted to my voice… she’s inside your head now… you’re engulfed by it… deliciously overwhelmed…

Now, as the crescent moves and spins, your eyes are slowly sinking into the ecstasy of sleep… yes… you want to sleep for Allah… sleep for me… you want to sleep and you will do so… right now!”

Just as she expected, his magnetized eyes sank. Her fun was about to begin.

“Wonderful! Your mind has fallen into the crescent, and the one that holds it now controls your world. You’re going to do exactly what I tell you from now on, just like a beguiled drone. My hypnotic spell has brought slumber into your brain and servility into your life. Now, I want you to open your eyes while remaining in this magnificent state of altered consciousness… very good… keep looking into the moving necklace, listen closely and obey my instructions…

When I leave this room, some people will come in and take my place. They will ask you all sorts of questions about the terrorist activities of your organization and all the subsidiary groups that kill in your behalf as well. In the name of Allah, you’ll want to answer their questions with truthful and crystal-clear answers, but at the same time, your mind will fight that desire that way creating a very interesting conflict scenario in your mind. I’ll tell you why I want this to happen since your hypnotized little brain of yours won’t tell anyone else: I don’t like people who rush me, people that decide to alter my routines. I had some very interesting plans for the rest of the afternoon, but because of you and that collared rat named Simms, I was disturbed, my day was ruined. You’re going to ruin his as well, by putting up as much as struggle as possible, do you understand? Test the limits of your consciousness by fighting against the words as they try to come out. In the end, the need to obey my first command will conquer the resistance imposed by the second and you will tell them everything they want to know, but until then, you and Simms will sweat a bit. Do you understand everything I just told you?”


“Good. You will comply, won’t you?”

“In the name of Allah, I’ll comply!”

“Splendid. That means my job is done. I can finally go home and rub some soothing oil on these legs of mine. They’re simply killing me, you know? Thank you so much for being a good listener and an even better hypno-slave. You’ll become conscious of your surroundings once again when I walk out the door, but before that there’s just one more thing I want you to do for me. It’s something you probably never dreamed of doing, yet it will make you feel like you’re on cloud nine… are you prepared, unworthy human ball of slime?”

“I am.”

“Okay… This is what I want you to do. First, get down on your knees. Second, unzip my skirt and third… kiss my ass!”

She turned around as the muslin knelt, sought the zipper feverishly and then slowly calmed down the moment he placed his lips on that piece of heavenly anatomy. “In the name of the Allah that really felt good!” thought the dazzling Agent who had just added another great triumph to her personal records. The skirt went up again and the crescent disappeared into the pocket from which it had emerged, leaving him with the remembrance of the day when a woman’s wit had been far more superior to any law made by men or any religious precept carved by gods.

* * *

Simms’ face was very much similar to a volcanic crater about to erupt when she walked back into the Surveillance Room.

“What the hell was that?” he blurted. “Have you completely lost or your mind, Miss Ryder?”

“No, I haven’t. I was just having a little fun. I could have done a lot worse, but then you would have to look away from the camera…” she teased.

“Having him kiss your ass was not part of the assignment!”

“The assignment pretty much sucked, if you want to know what I think. He happened to enjoy doing it! Tell me one thing straight, once and for all. Don’t you think he ought to be severely punished for the things he did?”

The emissions of sweat seemed to soften a bit, but his anger was still there for everyone to see.

“He will be… in due time. The President…”

“Fuck the President, Mr. Simms!” She stormed out. “Remember the number of people that died in recent years because of him! The President isn’t honoring the victims by keeping him away from justice like this! Is the re-election all that matters? If it’s the case, he sure isn’t my President at all!”

“General, your Agent is way out of line! Could you please calm her down?”

“You’re on your own, Simms! After all, you’re the one that started a fuss over such a trifling matter. No one will know what transpired in that room but us and I’m not going to waste my time thinking about it much. So he kissed her ass! Big deal… I agree with what she said about a severe punishment for a man of his kind. He should be hanging by a rope at this very moment or having his brain fried in an electric chair!”

“I second that motion…” intervened Gibbons. A pack of cigarettes was already gone. “Besides, Simms, Alexandra has special privileges inside the Division. Having a little fun, as she so nicely put it, is one of them.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing! His face was now red and his eyes boiling, cooking on the inside. “I thought I was in a serious Government Agency and not on some deranged underground mental institution!”

“Careful, Simms…” warned Hayes, whose experience enabled him to know when to play rough as well. “Now you’re the one who’s getting way out of line. Let Agent 47-D tell us the result of her session and after she’s gone, we’ll talk about it some more.”

“That’s practically insubordination of you, General Hayes! Remember who the President chose to run this place! Anyway, I don’t want to be here more than absolutely necessary. Miss Ryder, is he ready to speak?”

“He will be in a couple of hours, maybe a day. Since I couldn’t screw up his mind much, my suggestions will take a while to be fully assimilated. In the meantime, I would send someone right away to start the questioning and put him under pressure. If you linger too long, the power of my instructions may begin to wear off…”

“I see… I’ll take care of it right away. If you three will excuse me…”

Simms went out, thinking Alexandra had too much power in the Division. She was obviously deceiving and dangerous, but everyone liked her and practically worshipped her… how many men working on that facility had already kissed her ass? Wouldn’t it be interesting to know? And what would the President think about it, that is if he hadn’t met Agent 47-D before?

“You were better off in ignorance of this place, and most certainly in ignorance of her!” his consciousness screamed. It always did that when it was already too late to change his destiny, and more than relief, that voice gave him headaches. He pushed it away, looking for his bureaucratic composure. It kept him alive. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to forget that scene of control and the unwanted feeling of fetish arousal that whirled in his brain, producing a lot of equally undesired swelling effects throughout his body.

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