Damascus

They returned about half an hour later. It felt like two years. She was still topless and didn´t care in the least about it. It seemed that in such situations the normal rules didn´t apply at all. Her hair was a bit tousled. I had a horribly good idea about what they had done.

They entered the room, clinging to each other, him grinning smugly, openly fondling her boob and looking right into my eyes. She smiled confidently as well, but avoided direct eye contact with me. Was it guilt? Had she suddenly stopped loving me? I thought I knew her, but her behavior was so far out of the ordinary that I just couldn´t tell. That guy was so much more attractive than me and I knew that women were generally drawn to powerful men. In this situation, he was as powerful as God.

"You´re having a pleasant stay here?" he asked me, grinning widely. I have taken your wife and there´s nothing you can do about it, was what he really wanted to say.

"More or less, yes."

"I´ve really enjoyed taking your wife, infidel. You want to watch the next time? Watch how a real man pleases her? A man that has taken her away from you?"

"Ah, I´ll pass on that, I think."

He laughed. "Good choice. But maybe I´ll let you watch anyway. Just to make a point, you know. She´s mine now. She wants to be mine. Get used to it, weak man."

Anna at least had the decency to look a bit uncomfortable now.

I was glad that one of his gorillas suddenly interrupted our less than pleasant talk by entering and talking to him animatedly. "Omar" listened to him, then gave firm orders in a quiet, but strict way, while continuing to fondle my wife´s breasts. Watching this was as difficult for me as it obviously was for the drooling idiot he was talking to. Finally, the man ran away, having received his orders. I heard a shot in the distance and didn´t really want to know who had to die this time. Anna at least jumped a bit in shock, but he calmed her immediately by placing a huge smacker onto her lips. Someone screamed in the distance, followed by another shot, which silenced the scream immediately. Shit, shit, shit. This wasn´t looking good. They were executing the hostages one by one; I had no idea why. To make things worse, a fly started to circle my head, looking for an appropriate landing spot. I hardly noticed it, until it actually landed just below my right eye. I tried to shake it off, but it took a while and certainly made me look like a fool.

After a few minutes the same idiot returned and received approving comments from "Omar". The man smiled, obviously relieved. "Omar" was even kind enough to offer one of my wife´s boobs to the man as some kind of reward. He grinned like an idiot while he tentatively placed his hand onto her left tit. With a rough comment "Omar" grabbed his hand to show him how to properly squeeze a woman´s breast. Anna watched the whole thing smiling benevolently, as if all of this didn´t concern her at all. The situation was bizarre. Finally, "Omar" motioned the goon behind me over. I couldn´t understand what he told him, but it probably boiled down to "Here, show this idiot how to properly squeeze a tit." Which the guy did, without as much hesitation as his colleague showed, but with the same dumb grin on his ugly face.

After the tit grabbing was done, "Omar" pulled Anna out of the room with him. After a while I heard my wife´s orgasmic scream and to make things worse, the damn fly landed on my nose again and with my cuffed hands there was nothing I could do about it. Her screams and the tickling of the fly on my nose were what broke the camel´s back. I just gave up. I sagged down in that damn chair and let the tears come. This was not how I wanted to end things, helplessly tied to a shitty chair in some bank in the Middle East, hearing the love of my life get fucked by some arrogant bastard, waiting around until he decided to kill me. Maybe dying always sucked, but this was certainly one of the less preferable ways to leave.

I changed the scenery by remembering how we had met in a crowded bar by literally bumping into each other. I looked into her eyes and I knew - this was a woman I wanted to know better. No, that I wanted to know completely. Just watching her caused my guts to tingle. She seemed to feel the same and we lived together in my apartment in no time. My wish to get to know her completely was never fulfilled as she refused to talk much about her past. I accepted it, assuming she´d had some bad experiences with the men she met before me. I was content with that. I didn´t need her past; her present and future were enough for me.

"Omar" appeared with Anna again. To my utter horror, her face was covered with sperm and she seemed to wear it proudly. She looked down on my miserable figure arrogantly while "Omar" grinned smugly. I had lost her. I saw it with total clarity. We were through. I could see it in her eyes. There was no love for me, not even compassion, only contempt. Fuck. If they were about to kill me anyway, couldn´t they have done it first and spared me this?

"Mark, I have something to tell you."

"Anna..." I just croaked.

"Mark, I'm leaving with Hassan. The other hostages will be killed, including you, I'm afraid. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." I searched her eyes, or what I could see of them through the sperm that coated her face, for some sign of pity, or affection, or any indication that she didn't mean this. There was none. They were as cold and hard as her voice. I began to wonder who this woman really was, and what had become of the Anna I had fallen in love with.

"And you will find that the divorce will be very quick and uncomplicated in this case," he laughed. "And cheap, if you ask me. All of this beauty..." he gestured towards her "for the price of just one bullet.

"Clean your face, Anni. I think we´ve made our point."

"Don't start the show without me, honey," Anna simpered at him through the sperm that covered her face. She swung her hips seductively as she walked out of the room.

Hassan made a sign to the goon behind me, who untied me. "Now is your time to get on your knees and pray to whatever god you think will help you," he stated. The goon stuck the muzzle of the AK-47 into my neck, almost knocking me over.

Suddenly, I heard a deafening boom from the entrance hall. Hassan's goon ran in that direction, obviously thinking whatever was going on in there was more important than I was. Hassan muttered what I thought might be Arabic for "bloody fool." He had placed the AK-47 on the table so he could use both hands on my wife and was beginning to point his pistol at my head, a small sadistic smile appearing on his face. I knew my end was near and to be honest, I was stiff with fear.

Out of the corner of my eyes I suddenly saw someone moving blindingly fast from the entrance towards Hassan. It looked almost like some kind of ballet, cat-like elegant and totally silent. The blonde mane flying behind her identified the apparition as Anna, but that made no sense at all. She easily performed some kind of jump, kicking the pistol out of Hassan´s hand, before he even had the chance to point in her direction. Next, she kicked him in the guts, punched him in the face, grabbed the pistol from the floor and knelt on the stunned man, who was lying on his belly now. All of this took just a few seconds and was performed with almost inhumane precision. The pistol was firmly resting on the back of his head. My small Anna kneeling on this large man seemed somehow surreal.

"Mark, come around behind me. Now." The order was issued in a cold and unfamiliar tone. I obeyed numbly.

Nothing made any sense. I was about to die, then I wasn't. Anna was Hassan's woman, then she wasn't. Anna was my somewhat timid, loving wife, then she was some kind of fighting machine, defeating Hassan with frightening efficiency. I decided I would just do whatever I was told and if I were still alive tomorrow, I'd try to figure things out then.

Hassan found his voice. If he was surprised about this turn of events, he managed to hide it. "Anni, you don't have to do this. Our job is finished, and our safe escape is perfectly prepared. You don't need to pretend for the silly police. Come, pretty one, let us leave together." He even managed to sound confident, despite his precarious position.

Anna gave a short, sharp laugh. "In your dreams, bozo."

Hassan began to beg. "Anni, you cannot mean that. Please, Anni, remember what we can have together, what we can enjoy. Please just shoot that annoying little man, and get out of here with me. I´m rich, you know? I will make it worth your while."

Anna snorted. "You're just like the rest of them: all hot air. You talk big and you strut around with your guns and you shoot unarmed, decent people in the back. The minute you face a real test, you're on your knees whimpering and begging." She cocked the pistol.

"Please, Anni, no!"

"Know, as you die, that you were defeated by a woman, and an infidel. You weren't even a decent fuck. Goodbye, coward." She said it coolly and disdainfully, then pulled the trigger. Hassan slumped forward, dead.

Anna took a deep breath, then looked at me.

"Come on, Mark, let's get out of here." Her tone of voice was still cold and commanding, but her eyes were beginning to warm. She took my hand and led me through the carnage. No one seemed to notice us, despite the golden hair that still hung like a brilliant flag down Anna's back. If I'd had my wits about me, I'd have wondered why, but I didn't.

The once peaceful branch bank now looked like a war zone. Piles of rubble, dead and wounded bodies, and the smell of smoke were everywhere. Medics were tending to the wounded, armed security forces were milling about randomly, and it seemed like everyone who was left alive in the place was shouting. None of it seemed to matter. I didn't even have enough strength to grasp Anna's hand; she gripped mine as she half led, half pulled me toward the front door.

The heat slammed into us as we stepped out into the street. It was almost as noisy as it was in the bank: a muezzin squawked; horns competed with sirens and screaming women. A panicked chicken ran across the road. Somehow, that seemed like the last straw. I stumbled and almost fell.

Anna straightened me up, and turned me to face her. "I know you're not very happy with me right now, and I don't blame you. Can I ask you, please, to withhold judgment until we're someplace quiet and I can explain?" She looked into my eyes, appraising. "You look shell shocked, too, and no wonder. Let's get you out of this mess." She put her arm around my shoulder and led me through the noisy crowd. I just went where she pulled me.

I was on our bed, in our hotel room. The heavy drapes had been drawn against the brutal Syrian sun, and the room was pleasantly dim. Anna sat in a chair by the bed, with a concerned expression on her face. She looked soft and small, like the Anna I remembered from yesterday. Maybe the whole thing was just a bad dream? No. The images of her writhing on Hassan's lap while he kissed her and mauled her breasts, of the love-struck way she looked at him while his sperm decorated her face, were all too real. I closed my eyes.

"How are you, Mark?" Her voice sounded worried, but I had no idea how to answer her. I said the first thing that came into my head.

"Who are you, Anna?" She sighed and looked at the floor, then back at me.

"Are you sure you're ready for that now? Do you want to eat something first?"

Now that she mentioned it, that was a good idea. I'm not sure how, but she managed to procure some honest to goodness chicken soup. It was just right. I was even slightly amused, thinking that the chicken that tripped me this morning had met its pre-ordained fate. Kismet, you know. We cleaned up, and sat down to talk.

"You asked who I am, Mark. Given what you've seen today, that's a valid question. The best answer I can give you is this: The Anna who accepted your marriage proposal and walked down the aisle with you, who wants to have your babies and grow old with you and be buried side by side with you, and who loves you more than life, is the truest Anna. Maybe the best Anna. She's who I want to be yesterday, today, and forever. But I've learned how to do, and be, some other things: things I don't like very much. To stay alive, I've had to do them completely and well. May I tell you?"

I knew I wasn't going to like this, but I had to know. I nodded.

"Mark, my past is a bit embarrassing."

I reached for her hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I´m ashamed of it, I was afraid you would push me away if you knew. You see, I had a sheltered life, my parents were just perfect. Nonetheless, everything went kind of wrong. In hindsight, it´s probably all my fault. I was just immature."

That didn't make any sense, but maybe it was just me. I waited, and she began again.

"You know, I´ve always been fearless, quick, good at sports and a fast thinker. I´ve also always been quickly bored and a bit of an adrenaline junky. I´ve always enjoyed taking risks."

"Yeah, I´ve noticed that."

"I know, we´re quite different in that regard, but that´s just who I am. Anyway, my parents were teachers and they wanted me to go to the university, but that seemed so extremely boring. So, without their knowledge I applied at the police academy. To say that I passed the tests would have been a vast understatement. I excelled and broke damn near every record. I was quickly taken aside and some kind of government official had a long talk with me. They wanted me, desperately, but not for mundane police work. I was destined for some high-risk operations. I would be highly trained and paid, I would work without any official connection to any authority. To help me make up my mind, they offered me a few weeks of trial training."

"Wow."

"Exactly. Mark, I was just blown away by what I saw. It was such a rush. All those weapons, helicopters, car chases, sniper training, survival training. The teachers were so cool: highly trained, ruthless professionals. I admired them and wanted to be like them."

"Let me get this straight: you were some kind of undercover killer for the government?"

"Yes, that describes it fairly well. Of course, we were psychologically prepared as well for what we were supposed to do. We were convinced that what we did was the right thing. Killing the bad guys, protecting the innocent. All that stuff. Of course, I never left after the trial period. They wanted me, and I wanted them, and I was at least as good as any of them. More so, because I'm a woman."

"How many lives have you taken?" I was still unable to be truly shocked, disappointed or concerned about these revelations. My mind was still overloaded. It was as if I were watching this conversation in a movie or something.

"Eight."

"Wow."

"It was a rush, Mark. The equipment, the money, the risk, the power, the feeling of being invincible, doing the right thing. I was one of a selected few, I was one of the best, the elite, protecting the society."

"So, what are you capable of?"

She looked a bit ashamed now, which surprised me.

"Mark, I can handle almost any weapon with deadly efficiency. I can fly a helicopter, I speak four languages, I am quite rich. I´m sorry you never knew. But there is also a thing I can´t do, at least not anymore."

"And that is?"

"I can´t kill someone just because some guy tells me to."

I just looked at her questioningly.

"You shouldn´t know too many details. My last job went terribly wrong. They assigned me the wrong target. I killed an innocent man, a husband and father of two. Nobody blamed me, except me. I questioned everything. I became depressed. Of course, they watched me closely, I was and still am a dangerous weapon. They tried to help me, to shift the blame on themselves, they assigned a psychologist to keep me working, to keep using me. But soon we all knew it was useless. I was useless. We all knew I would never want to kill someone again. We talked about it and we quickly came to the conclusion that it was over. They prepared nice nest-eggs for every agent, I took mine and just left. I believe they are still watching me from time to time because I´m a dangerous person.

"I just wandered through life from then on, aimlessly, depressed, confused and full of guilt. I questioned every job I had done for them. Were these really the bad guys or had there been more errors? Even if they were the right targets, had I really had the right to kill them? They never had a trial, the chance to defend themselves, to lay out their cases. Some unknown person in some office had decided that they had to die, based on whatever information and interests they had. And I had been the willing tool for this. I felt sick and ashamed. I was seriously contemplating suicide.

"Then I met you, Mark. You can't realize what it was like, for the first time in years and years, to have someone respect you like a person: just a plain, ordinary, human being. Of course, I hadn't thought of myself that way, either, for some time. You changed everything. I wanted to live again, I needed to live. I managed to push my past into a dark corner of my mind and to enjoy life again.

"You gave me love. You're always saying you're an ordinary guy, and you're right. You are. I've had sex with guys who are better looking, richer, stronger, smarter, and a lot more dominating than you. Before you ask, yes, Hassan was all of that. So how do you compete for me with a guy like that? It's easy, and you win every time. You're honest, you're caring, you're faithful. You're worth fighting for, Mark. The best part is, you love me. You loved me when I didn't know if I had a soul, or what I should do about it if I did. That's why there's not a man on this earth who can take me away from you.

"Then your boss came up with this Syria trip and I felt like I had to come with you to protect you. I've never once been afraid for myself, but Mark, I´m always terrified that something might happen to you. You´d be surprised how many nights I´ve spend agonizing over your other trips. Terrified that your plane might crash, that you might me abducted, whatever. I´m almost paranoid when it comes to you. That's why I was so excited when your boss suggested I come here with you: I could protect you. Then, by pure coincidence, the damn bank gets robbed.

"Remember I said after that last mission, I could never be a killer for 'them' again? That's true, but there's one person on earth for whom I will kill: you. So I told you I loved you, then I flipped the switch. I became a killer again.

"Please understand, Mark, that in order to survive, I had to learn how to be a machine, not a person. To regard everyone as an ally, a threat, or a victim. When I flipped that switch, I became someone you didn't know.

"I quickly assessed the situation. No allies. More threats than I could handle without risking your life. Advantages? Hassan. Vain and overconfident, parading around like a damn peacock, totally unprofessional. If this had been my operation, everything would have been done within minutes. Hell, it took those security forces so long to respond, I'd have had my team over the border before they even reached the bank."

I stared at her. The only thing I could think of was that I'd never heard her swear before.

"I knew I could exploit him. I've played the part before: the slightly ditzy blonde who swoons over the educated, cultured, he-man terrorist. That part was easy. The problem was, I had to give him a reason to keep you alive long enough that I could get us out of there. I've dealt with his type before, and I knew one way to do it for sure: let him humiliate you with me. As you know, it worked.