20 miles East of Baghlan in Afghanistan, the dust covered truck rumbled down the deep rutted road.

The sun sat low in the sky, yet still felt as if it was only inches away as it burned down on the small caravan of dust covered trucks well past their expected lifespan.  The hard ride jolted every passenger.

Nobody spoke.

Even if they wanted to, the dust kicked up by the lead truck would have choked anything they wanted to say into an exchange of coughing fits.

Carlos The Jackal sat in the back seat of the lead truck.  His head was secured under a black hood to keep the final destination from him.  The hood was sufficiently able to block out any light from the burning sun, but nothing kept out the dust as it easily filtered through the fabric and settled in every pore of The Jackal’s face.

Carlos coughed slightly.  He was not used to this type of treatment. 

Listening to the roar of the engine as it choked on the same dust, the most notorious assassin from two decades ago understood that when he was called out of retirement by Abdul Dabir Murad, he could only expect to be treated this way.

As the leader of the most fanatical Muslim sect, Murad was personally responsible for terrorist attacks spanning nearly three decades and the increased coordinated activity all across the globe over the last few years.  Murad’s holy war against all non-believing nations has brought the reward for his capture, alive or dead, to fifty million United States Dollars.

Abdul Dabir Murad was a very cautious man and this was the first time that anyone from outside the most successful Jihad warrior clan was brought to his hiding place in nearly two decades.

Carlos was thankful that it was only a hood, and not more.

The hypnotic bouncing of the truck sent Carlos back to the last contract he had taken from Murad.

The Jackal was much younger then.  Twenty years younger.

Everyone faced certain death in their own way.  Some begged, some pleaded.  Almost everyone cried at some point.

Carlos had thought he had seen it all, until that day twenty years ago.

#

The rich and powerful Saudi oil baron just looked at The Jackal with a slight bemused expression.  His eyes never shifted or looked away.  This was one of the few times Carlos felt like looking around for that extra guard he didn’t know about to be sneaking up right behind him.

Ignoring the impulse, Carlos flexed his muscles ready to fulfill another contract.  Only then did the Saudi raise a finger in the air.

“Before you do this, could I make a proposal?”

Carlos paused briefly.

“If you’re going to offer to pay me more money not to kill you, it won’t work.  I never reverse on a contract.”

The oil baron seemed pleased by Carlos’ response.  This was not expected behavior.  Carlos fought the urge to look around him.  He was certain that he had not missed anyone worth worrying about on his way in to the top floor of the extravagant office complex that overlooked the Gulf.  Still, was the mark stalling for time?

The Saudi’s gaze never wavered.  Not even a flicker as if spotting someone just behind Carlos.

“You are the famous…no infamous Carlos The Jackal, are you not?”

Carlos tipped his head slightly.  The Saudi baron smiled wider.

“Excellent.  My proposal is this.  I will pay you ten million dollars to kill whoever it is that paid you to kill me.”

“I’m afraid that won’t work.  You will be unable to pay me after I have killed you.”

“That is where you are mistaken.”

The oil baron reached down below his desk.  Carlos reacted quickly and straightened his arm with the pistol pointed right at the Saudi’s temple.  The baron paused.  He slowly brought a metal briefcase up to the top of his desk and laid it flat.  He unlatched the case and opened it up.  He spun it around for Carlos to see the contents.  It sure looked like there could be ten million dollars packed neatly into the large case.

“I kept this case under every desk I worked at for the last six years, just waiting for the time to come when I would need it.”

He pushed the case across the desk, closer to The Jackal.

“I am not asking you to spare my life.  You have a reputation for always following through on every contract.  I am only asking to hire your services.”

This would be a first for Carlos The Jackal.  He was stunned to silence for only a moment.  This would be the biggest single payoff of his career to date…no, the biggest ever.

“How do you know I won’t just kill you and take the money?”

“You are a man of honor.  Despite your chosen profession, it is obvious that your parents instilled in you a sense of pride and morals.”

Carlos could see why Murad wanted this man killed.  He was able to see straight to your soul--a very dangerous man to have running around.

The Saudi sat still, his gaze burning into Carlos.

“If you tell me that you will take this money in exchange for the life of my choosing, I know it will be done.”

Carlos took one quick glance at the case of money then settled his gaze back on his target.

“For this price I give you two targets.”

The oil baron gave a second name.  Carlos nodded and pulled the trigger.  This was the first and only time that one of The Jackal’s victims died with a smile on his face.

Shortly after, Abdul Dabir Murad went deep underground, both literally and figuratively.  The Saudi was right.  Carlos took immense pride in completing every contract he accepted.

#

The truck jerked to a stop and Carlos was jolted from his memories of so long ago.

He heard several voices.  The door to the back of the truck was forced open, the rusted hinges screaming their reluctance.  A hand pulled the hood off Carlos. 

Blinking from the sudden change in light, Carlos’ vision quickly adjusted.

Carlos The Jackal was staring into the smiling face of one of the contracts he had left to fulfill.