Celebrated as a ragtag force that defeated and broke the Soviet Union,
no one predicted the
Mujahideen would bring with them a plague that
would spread like wildfire through Pakistan in the years to follow. When
the battle-worn fighters returned with no enemy or war to fight, they
turned their sights on the country that had been their creator and
benefactor.
From the same battlegrounds that birthed the Mujahideen, a young
Kamal Khan emerges as a different breed of warrior. Discarding his
wealthy family comforts, Kamal becomes a precision sniper, an invincible
commando and a clandestine operative bringing intimidation, dominance
and death with him to the battlefield. Ending the plague is his prime
directive.
Shrouded in political expediency, hampered by internal power
struggles, international espionage and doublespeak that makes
Washington's spin doctors proud, Kamal's mission is a nightmare of
rampant militant fundamentalism that threatens to choke and take
Pakistan hostage. For him, the fight is not just for freedom, but the
survival of a nation.
Excerpt from Agency Rules – Never an Easy Day at the Office
Standing in the hall of the abandoned warehouse, blood dripped
from his body, leaving a trail on the grimy floor. A body was slumped in the
chair in the middle of the hall with a singular light hanging above,
illuminating a small radius around it. Another lay in the doorway propping the
door open. The fight inside had been more than expected from the three days he
spent surveying the warehouse. By his count, there should not have been more
than five men both inside and out. Instead, he had found almost seven men
around the facility.
They had prepared well for his arrival.
On his approach, he saw one man guarding the entrance. There
were usually two… where’s the other one? Kamal shook off the thought and sized
up his enemy, noting that he was a scrawny soldier that didn’t fill his
uniform. He ducked into the shadows where he could use the darkness against the
soldier, catching him by surprise. He rushed the guard, knocking him to the
ground before he could set himself or draw his weapon. With a quick strike to
the head, the first guard was neutralized. Before he could get up, he heard the
door to the warehouse open. Jumping to his feet, Kamal saw the second guard
emerge, finding Kamal hovering over his partner’s incapacitated body. The
guard, surprisingly, dropped his AK-47 and rushed at Kamal, driving him into
the concrete wall of the warehouse with a shoulder block. As he pulled back
from Kamal, he landed two solid right crosses to his jaw stunning Kamal and
giving himself time to set for the fight. Kamal pulled himself up from one
knee, gasping for air and taking the time to assess his opponent. The guard
didn’t wait for Kamal to position himself and struck again with a swift kick to
his midriff, bring the taste of blood to Kamal’s mouth. Oh, that is just
unacceptable.
Kamal spat the blood onto the ground and spun around, taking the
guard’s legs out with a vicious kick to his knees. As the guard hit the ground,
Kamal launched himself onto him, grabbing his neck in a chokehold. The guard
threw elbows behind him, and kicked helplessly in the air as Kamal increased
the pressure on his throat. Within minutes, his body stopped fighting and he
was down.
Kamal stood, spitting a few times to clear the blood that had
filled his mouth, finally using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the remaining
away. He smirked, admiring his work. Not as tough as he looked.
Standing over both bodies, his plan rapidly changed. Grabbing
the second guard by the legs, he dragged him around the corner and pulled his
uniform off. Silently and rapidly, Kamal undressed and pulled on the FC garb.
Wow, this fits well. The guard had seemed so much larger than himself. He
ripped his own shirt in half, using half to tie the guard’s hands together and
the other half to seal his mouth, in case he came to and tried to warn the
others. Kamal laughed silently, giving the guard another hard kick to the head.
Just for good measure, you son of a bitch.
He entered the warehouse corridor, looking for the other guards.
Spotting one about fifty feet down, he straightened his shoulders and called to
him, “Did he come through here?”
The guard was surprised by the question. He hadn’t heard or seen
anything. He strolled over to Kamal to find out what his colleague was talking
about. “What?” Kamal waited till he was close enough, and casually raised his
arm, as if to indicate towards the door. Gun in hand, he brought his arm down
in a vicious swipe to the guard’s head, knocking him out cold. He fell hard
into the wall from the blow and as he slid down, his gun clattered to the
ground noisily. The commotion alerted another guard who came rushing around the
corner, sidearm in hand. Seeing his compatriot laid out on the ground, with a
fellow soldier standing over him, he slowed down.
“What happened to Ayaz?”
“I don’t know! I came in looking for the guy that knocked Sheraz
out and found him like this,” Kamal said, quietly pulling his sidearm from the
holster. “We should warn Faheem that we have a guest,” the soldier said,
turning to warn his superior. Kamal waited for him to get a safe distance away
and fired two rounds into his back, dropping him to the ground like a wounded
deer. The guard tried to roll himself over to fire back at Kamal, but the round
had damaged his spine badly, leaving him face down on the floor. Kamal went
over and fired another round into his head, and almost like a second thought,
changed his sidearm with the guard’s.
Kamal moved a few yards down the corridor when another soldier
jumped from behind a crate hitting him with the butt of his AK-47, stunning
him. What the fuck? Kamal thought, reaching up to find blood coming from just
above his eye. “What’s your problem soldier? Don’t you recognize your own?” he
said, glaring at the attacker. The guard hesitated for a moment but something
must have alerted him, because he drew his weapon back again. Kamal used all
his body weight to jam the weapon and soldier against the wall; he could feel
his eye swelling up already, and he preferred not to expend any more energy
than he had to.
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