Cryptocurrency represents Deek’s final bid for success, and he is determined to overcome any obstacle.
On Alert
Zaid Karim rolled into the motel’s parking lot and chose a dark, remote corner from which to observe. He had been told that Deek had recently acquired a sleek black Porsche, now parked before room 9 like a jet-black gem amidst a cluster of dented sedans, aging Japanese cars, and grimy trucks. Although the light in room 9 still burned, heavy curtains kept its secrets hidden. In the center of the lot, a white van with tinted windows idled, its exhaust releasing a mist into the chilly night. Sensing something amiss, Zaid resolved to monitor the van closely before taking any action.
Kidnap
Manuel “Manny” Cesar wasn’t entirely sure whether divine will or fate had a role in guiding him, but he recognized that both could deliver when survival was at stake. The target—identified as a man named Deek—stepped out of room 9 without any coaxing. Described by Shujaa as a figure resembling a heavyset man with curly hair, a short beard, and car keys clutched in one hand, the suspect fit the profile perfectly.
In a decisive move, Manny accelerated the van and positioned it beside the striking black Porsche. Seizing the moment, Oscar leaped out and struck Deek with a high-voltage, military-grade taser. Deek collapsed like a felled tree as Manny’s crew swarmed him. They bound his limbs and hauled him into the van while a young accomplice snatched the car keys, jumped into the Porsche, and sped away. Manny tailgated in pursuit. The operation unfolded as smoothly as melted butter over a hot tortilla.
Inside the van, a tarp had been laid to protect against bloodstains. As Manny drove, Oscar and an associate known as Poison secured Deek by taping his hands, feet, and mouth, then proceeded to brutally assault him while hurling degrading insults. His muffled cries filled the van’s confines as the beating continued.
Pursuit
No sooner had Zaid taken a moment to assess the situation than the door of room 9 swung open and Deek emerged. Before Zaid could step out of his car, the white van roared forward, and armed men tased Deek before forcefully shoving him inside. Reacting on instinct, Zaid drew his weapon and leaped from his car, though the swift abduction meant his presence went unnoticed. Quickly remounting his vehicle, he sped away in hot pursuit.
The van wound its way southeast along the warehouse district, skirting abandoned factories, dark train yards, and empty streets. Zaid maintained a cautious distance, aware that a secured warehouse could complicate any rescue. When the van turned onto Altura Street—a bumpy, uneven thoroughfare with a steep railroad crossing—Zaid recognized his opportunity. Relying on a shortcut he’d learned from a past case involving an abandoned milk factory, he darted onto the security road encircling the factory, accelerated around the building, and rejoined Altura. Parking discreetly behind a telephone pole, he disembarked and readied his firearm.
Fourth Degree
Manny cursed under his breath, realizing that choosing Altura had been a misstep—he had forgotten the road was under construction. His plan had simply been to abandon the battered car thief amidst heaps of discarded mattresses, broken appliances, and rotting refuse. Although they had beaten Deek severely—leaving him moaning on a tarp—Oscar and Poison had been clear: the intent was to warn anyone foolish enough to cross Mr. Z, not to commit indiscriminate murder.
Gazing ahead, Manny spotted a man standing about twenty feet from the van, a firearm aimed directly at him. The stranger was lean and powerfully built, with shoulder-length black hair and a scar carved across his upper face. Clad in jeans, black boots, a striking red-and-blue windbreaker, and an unexpected fedora, his presence cut through the night like a warning shot.
Targets In the Dark
Zaid’s eyes narrowed as he focused on the van. Inside its front compartment, both a driver and a passenger were visible behind a partition. With calm precision, he fired through the windshield—first striking the driver and then following his shot with a second round. The van swerved violently off the road, narrowly evading Zaid as his bullets found their marks. It eventually collided with the security fence surrounding the milk factory and ground to a halt. Without hesitation, Zaid sprinted toward the wreckage.
Who Would Have Guessed?
A sharp, crisp sound punctured the tension—a precise, small hole had appeared in the van’s windshield, its shockwave of cracks leaving a shattered pattern. Manny staggered as a searing pain struck his chest; he looked down to find blood seeping through his shirt. In that gut-wrenching moment, he recalled his grandmother’s adage, “He who sows winds, reaps storms.” Deep inside, he knew the malevolence one dishes out often boomerangs with even greater force.
Memories of Sunday mornings at his grandmother’s table—filled with chilaquiles, tamales, huevos rancheros, atole, pan dulce, and rich coffee—washed over him. The warmth of family gatherings contrasted starkly with the agony enveloping him now. As another bullet grazed the edge of his heart, Manny’s mind flashed briefly to his Tio Ramirez, a troubled soul who had once endured a long incarceration only to be consumed by regret. The words of a distant philosopher echoed: “If you stare into an abyss long enough, the abyss stares back at you.” In Manny’s final moments, that abyss met him with unyielding, remorseless eyes.
Showdown
In the midst of this maelstrom of pain and violence, Deek drifted in a state of utter despair. The two tattooed men in the back of the van continued their assault—hurling insults and deriding him as a common thief. Before Deek could muster a defense, a sudden, explosive disturbance hurled everyone against the partition. One of his captors, known as Poison, scrambled to regain control by drawing his handgun and flinging open the van’s rear door. In response, a loud gunshot echoed, and Poison crumpled, a bullet lodged in his forehead.
Oscar, who had been thrown atop Deek, bellowed obscenities and scrambled to his feet. In a frantic twist, he yanked Deek upright and pressed a knife against his throat. Then, as if fate had intervened, a man wearing a brown fedora stepped into the van, gun raised. In that fleeting moment, despite his agony, Deek managed a grin as relief flooded him. It was Zaid Karim Al-Husayni—the relentless investigator whose storied past of high-risk exploits was known to few. With a steely gaze, Zaid reassured them, “I shoot you and you die,” as two shots found their brutal targets in Oscar.
Death Is Good Enough
After neutralizing the immediate threat, Zaid meticulously freed Deek from his bindings and removed the tape from his mouth. Struggling upright and wincing from searing pain in his jaw, Deek attempted to shout his gratitude, though his words came out as a strained murmur. “Are there any more?” Zaid queried gravely, his tone underscoring the seriousness of their situation.
Despite his injuries—and the coppery taste of blood still lingering—Deek couldn’t help feeling a surge of exhilaration. Together, he and Zaid had shown their adversaries exactly where the line was drawn. With a final, feeble kick directed at the fallen kidnapper and a grim nod from Zaid, it was clear: their enemies had been dealt with. Amid the chaotic scene, they retrieved the stolen phone, a device that held both Deek’s crypto wallets and vital keys.
The Namer
It wasn’t until Zaid pressed a clean cloth against the side of Deek’s neck that he realized how deep the cut truly was. With the steady assurance of a seasoned detective, Zaid urged him to maintain pressure. Gently supporting Deek, Zaid guided him toward his car. In the background, Zaid methodically closed the van’s doors, unscrewed the gas cap, stuffed a rag into the opening, and ignited it. In a dramatic flourish reminiscent of cinema, the van erupted into a roaring fireball.
Human After All
Drifting between pain and a haze of memories, Deek recalled a rainy night from his childhood. At the age of twelve, he had been riding in the car with his parents and Lubna after dining out. As the windshield wipers tapped a steady rhythm against the rain, his father softly sang an old Iraqi melody, the tune mingling with the patter of water. While his family joined in the heartfelt chorus, young Deek—too enamored with American rock to appreciate the traditional ballads—mocked Lubna, unaware that his cruelty would one day seed regret.
Now, as severe pain racked his dislocated jaw and broken nose and tears blurred his vision, Deek longed to call out an apology he had long withheld. He fumbled for his phone, its cracked screen a testament to hard-worn battles, only to have Zaid snatch it away. “Now is not the time to call your family,” Zaid said firmly. “Your wound is superficial enough; had it been any deeper, you might not have survived. We’ll have the Namer take care of you.”
As the rhythmic swish of the rain and wipers lulled him toward unconsciousness, Deek couldn’t shake the realization that even Zaid—despite the legends that surrounded him—carried the unmistakable burden of human vulnerability. In that moment, it was clear that in the midst of chaos and carnage, every man is, ultimately, human.
Embracing Faith, One Insight at a Time!
The teachings of the Quran have always guided my path. With a deep passion for Islamic knowledge, I strive to blend the wisdom of tradition with the relevance of today, making the timeless messages of Islam accessible and meaningful for everyone.
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