The one hour ride on the highway from the airport to the city was not bad. At this time of night the temperatures were around 18 °C. This was a temperature Maxwell approved of as it kept him from falling asleep when he had to stay awake all night. Granted, he was able to sleep a bit during the flight, but he was too excited to catch more sleep than a row of naps he had forced himself to take.

The gentle humming of the hybrid engine of the BMW X6 fortified the impression of peace and calmness the dark landscape outside created in Maxwell’s mind. A deceptive impression he knew, considering all the conflicts this countryside had faced in the past and still faces today. He was thankful he had not to drive the car himself, but Joshua did. This gave Maxwell time to recollect himself, to prepare mentally for the task ahead of him. Thus he could enjoy the air freed so proficiently from the humidity of the air outside by the air conditioning system of the car.

Glancing at his driver, a man slightly younger than himself, but considerably heavier built and of darker complexion, Maxwell thought about how most people connected dry desert and the Crusades to the city they were heading towards. Although the Crusades were still kept fresh in the minds of the locals by story tellers, depicting the events of over seven centuries ago as if they had happened only yesterday, on most evenings in bars and cafés, people would be surprised how wrong they were about the landscape Maxwell saw outside.
Despite the rocky character of the land an ample amount of humidity and rain, caused by the proximity to the sea, allowed for extensive orchards, sometimes cultivated for centuries by the hands of the same family.



The sun was already rising when the sapphire black BMW finally reached its destination. The driver stopped the car near an old mudbrick building with a front yard surrounded by a six feet high wall of the same style of construction. The car was almost blocking the narrow alley. A fresh whitewash, glowing in an intense bright orange where the first sun rays fell directly onto it, made the otherwise old estate look new. Over the empty archway a white Knights Templar Cross on a red square was emblazoned. As Maxwell caught sight of it he wondered why someone would reverse the colours of the coat of arms of the Knights Templar, but decided instantly this was not important right now.

Maxwell stared out of the car window. He had lowered it slightly so he could take in the sounds and smell of the awakening city. Living in a large city himself this was his favourite time of day. When the city seemed to be still sleepy, waking up slowly. When there were no signs of the everyday hustling and bustling and the air was still clear. Everything looked so simple at every beginning of a new day -
just not today.

Although he should concentrate on his mission, his thoughts were full of the shadowy figures which had been omnipresent all the way from the airport to here. Maxwell had seen them standing near the highway under bridges and behind corners in the city. They always stayed in the shadows, almost out of sight so he could spot their outlines but was unable to discern any details. He was deeply concerned about how they could have followed him here, why they followed him and if they were real or if he only imagined them. Joshua hadn’t seen any of them.

‘You want to go now or wait until we will have some witnesses?’ Joshua asked with a thick Yiddish accent.
‘No… I’ll go now. Wish me luck’..
He reached for the door handle when Joshua put a Five-seveN, custom-made with an integrated silencer and rigged for caseless ammunition, into Maxwell’s lap, winking and smirking at him. ‘This will be more useful than good luck.’
Maxwell nodded and placed the gun in the concealment holster he had grabbed from the back seat and strapped under his dark jacket earlier.
He opened the door and stepped outside into the already very warm and at this time of day already dry air.
‘Don’t cause ruckus.’ he heard Joshua’s voice behind him.
‘Don’t worry I have a cunning plan.’ Maxwell put his Ray-Ban sunglasses on, covering the world in shades of faint green. ‘In fact it is so cunning you could brush your teeth with it.’ he grinned and slammed the car door shut behind him as he started to make his way towards the archway adjusting his bright red silk tie and buttoning up his jacket.


Once he had crossed under the archway Maxwell noticed the yard was surrounded by fig trees leaving a large dusty square with level ground in the middle. This was the perfect training ground for the fencing school the man, called ‘Saif al Din’ by the locals, ran in this place. The dark door leading inside the house looked ancient. It was all cracked and crannied so the delicate scrimshaw was almost unnoticeable. Maxwell pushed against the door with one hand. It opened smoothly without any noise. Cool air rushed past his bare face and hands, making him shiver.
The inside of the large room behind the door was dominated by a large figure standing in front of a large wooden desk. Maxwell paused, still standing in the door to let his eyes adjust to the relative darkness inside.
Maxwell took his sunglasses off and tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket, panning the room, taking in the details. The room was sparsely lit by two windows high above in the eastern wall. A large scimitar lay on the desk standing on the other end of the room, across from the door. The desk was made to match the style of the door and was apparently of similar age judging by the state it was in.

In front of this desk facing away from Maxwell stood a man measuring well above 2.10 m in height and weighing around 120 kg. The picture of a massive mountain formed in Maxwell’s mind. The man was by no means obese but looked like he possessed muscle mass weighing more than Maxwell’s weighed overall. For a single moment Maxwell doubted his mission, doubted there was a chance of success and doubted his own sanity for trying what he had planned to do. Thoughts, options and possibilities raced through his mind. Maybe he should have brought Joshua with him inside. Impossible, he needed him outside to watch his back and he did not want to alert Saif. Then he remembered he had been trained for this, trained to use fear for his own advantage instead of being paralyzed by it. His thoughts focused and his determination returned to him, flooding his body just as the adrenaline had done split seconds before. He was ready for this. He had to do this. This was his only chance and he was willing to take advantage of it.

‘You are not welcome here’ a voice like thunder rolling over the mountains and down into the valley came booming from the man’s mouth.
‘But you don’t even know who I am…’
‘I saw the ones you brought to this sacred place’.
What was Saif talking about? Joshua? No way! He had requested someone unknown in this area.
‘Maybe you could spare a few minutes to let me explain why I’m here’ Maxwell said in an amiable voice.
‘You all want the same and I swore to protect this place and its people from all evil that might come upon here!’ the answer came as a menacing, thunderous snarl from Saif’s mouth without hesitation.
Maxwell was not sure if the man he faced was sane or if they even lived in the same world. Great, he might be a religious nutjob, he thought before making another attempt to talk sense into the man.
‘Hey, listen, I’m not here to bring any harm to you or the ones you protect. I just want to talk. See...’
‘Enough talk already!!’ roared Saif, turned and two flaming objects shot from his hands towards Maxwell.

Where did he get those from? Maxwell was shocked while his body was on autopilot dropping to the floor. Two small explosions rocked the wall behind Maxwell sending debris raining down all over the place. With well trained movements Maxwell rolled over to his right side extending his leg sideward and came to his feet unbuttoning his jacket. He realized he had no time to reach for his gun as he had to defend himself from Saif dashing towards him, the scimitar in both hands high above his head, ready to cut Maxwell in half with a powerful downward strike.
Maxwell took a quick step towards Saif, avoiding the blade. He brought his arms up, grabbing Saif at the elbows. The man was far too strong for Maxwell. He had to throw him off his game or he would lose his life pretty fast.
Maxwell slammed his left sole of foot hard into the inside of Saif’s right knee, unbalancing him. With a fluid movement he then pulled his leg past Saif in between their bodies to gain momentum for a kick to the back of Saif’s left knee. The tall man was caught completely off guard when Maxwell’s left elbow hit him hard in the chest, perfectly timed to match the kick to the back of the knee. Saif fell hard on his back losing the grip on his scimitar, which hit the ground some meters away with a loud clatter.

Not letting go of Saif’s left arm Maxwell bent the wrist he held in place inwards as far as it would go while lowering his body and pinning Saif’s arm to the ground fixing the forearm pointing straight upwards. With a forward roll Maxwell shifted his whole body weight onto Sai’s wrist until he heard it snap.
With a swift motion Maxwell stood up and drew his gun pointing it at Saif’s head.
‘Don’t move. I’m just here to talk’ he said in a calm voice, trying to save the situation from further violence.
Saif groaned and started to get back onto his feet.
‘Don’t move, I said!’
Saif cowered on the ground and eyed Maxwell reaching very slowly for his scimitar.
This was the moment Maxwell knew he had lost control. How could he have been so stupid? He ignored the golden rule to never train a gun at someone you don’t intend to shoot. Saif must have concluded Maxwell wouldn’t shoot him. Too bad, now he might have to actually shoot him to regain control. It might be either that or a swift death by a scimitar.

Saif grabbed the hilt of his scimitar and started to swirl clockwise immediately, moving towards Maxwell in small twirling steps, rising in the process.
He realized in how much trouble he was when he saw the scimitar elevate and predicted the powerful spinning backhand slash was aimed at the middle of the right side of his skull.
A hiss of expanding air followed by a wet impact occurred with a simultaneous noise betraying that metal had hit plastic, followed by the clatter of the scimitar and the gun hitting the floor, when Maxwell had stepped back and pulled the trigger.

The bullet going straight through Saif’s right shoulder caused him to spin even faster when he jumped forward to follow Maxwell. His left forearm connected with Maxwell’s jaw and sent him flying sideward to the ground where his head made violent contact when he landed.

Heliocentrism made so much more sense when your head seemed to explode all the time emitting bright white light and everything else revolves around it. Something seemed to be wrong though. His head seemed to spin, too. Another thought came to Maxwell’s mind. It was about how you called an event that would block sunlight from the sun. He was sure this wouldn’t be called an eclipse. The next thing he thought about was how a sufficiently large and very fast closing object would alter the shape of the sun that was his head upon impact.

Just in time he managed to roll away from the kick and avoided some creative instant surgery being done to his nose. He scrambled back to his feet looking at Saif and for his gun, which was heavily dented and almost cut in half by the slash which had been directed at his skull. Suddenly Saif reminded Maxwell of the Black Knight from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. What was wrong with this guy? Didn’t he know when to give up? This guy was pure madness!

He had no time to think about this as Saif came rushing towards him, trying to crush him between his massive body and the probably less massive wall behind Maxwell. Quickly sidestepping Saif, Maxwell reached a position behind him. Without thinking he jumped onto the man’s back trying to apply a mata leão.
Saif bucked like a bronco trying to throw Maxwell off. He slammed him hard into the wall, partially fracturing one of Maxwell’s ribs, tried to throw him forward and then flung his head back and hit Maxwell’s nose, turning it into a bloody spot of pain. Maxwell almost fell of the other’s back, but was barely able to stay in place, by applying an underhook with his left arm, which was in return clamped there by Saif’s mighty left arm.

Encouraged by the lessened pressure around his neck and throat Saif slammed Maxwell into the wall again. With only one free arm Maxwell had to come up with something quick as a rear naked choke was not an option anymore. Saif bent himself forward and Maxwell fell almost of his back again, his belly was already near Saif’s head. He was only saved by the underhook again which held him there in what could have looked like an embrace in a different context.
Maxwell thought desperately of a move to knock his opponent out. He looked around frantically searching for something he could use as a weapon. The scimitar was to far away, he would never reach it in time before Saif would crush him. His pistol had been seriously damaged when it had encountered the scimitar. So what was left? Think Maxwell, think! Improvise! A flash of red caught Maxwell’s attention and spurred an idea in his head.

While Saif slammed him into the wall again, Maxwell untied his tie, and placed it over Saif’s broad neck, both ends dangling in front of the man’s chest. He then reached over Saif’s right shoulder grabbing both ends of the tie, placing one end in his left hand and keeping the other end in his right end. Maxwell pulled down hard with his left hand and pulled his right hand towards Saif’s right shoulder simultaneously, crossing both ends of the tie, thus forming a sling around Saif’s neck.
So his coach was right after all, there was a point to training in gis from time to time even though people outside the gym usually wouldn’t wear them.

Saif broke down within seconds, first to his knees, then rolling over onto his side. Maxwell kept choking him for some more seconds, for good measure. Then he reached into the left pocket of his jacket producing two disposable plastic restraints from it and cuffed Saif’s wrists and ankles before the main regained consciousness.
‘I just wanted to talk, you know?’ Panting heavily Maxwell reached for his nose, which did not feel good at all, for his ribs, which seemed to be largely intact and finally inspected Saif’s shoulder which displayed a fine example of full penetration.



Maxwell staggered outside reaching the car where he was greeted by Joshua and a first aid kit.
‘Get inside. Saif’s shoulder needs to be patched up’ Maxwell felt tired now that the effects of the adrenaline had diminished.
‘But you don’t look pretty either, sure you don’t need anything?’ Joshua opened the kit and handed Maxwell some tissues.
‘I’m fine. I’m fine. Now get inside before he dies from blood loss. I’ll be with you in some minutes.’
He began to clean his face and changed his clothes. Some clothes fitting this area better than his now ruined suit were in the trunk of the BMW and Maxwell was glad he had thought of bringing them along not only because they were a vital component of his plan.

After having cleaned the house from blood and weapons that did not belong there they had taken Saif outside and fitted him into the trunk.
Maxwell stood in the archway, watching the BMW speed away and enjoyed the warm air of this now peaceful morning. With the interest of a child he contemplated one of the figs on the trees in the yard for a few moments, taking in the sounds of the waking city around him, before he went inside, closing the door behind him.

He placed the scimitar on the old desk sliding his fingers over the surface of both.
Finally he took a seat. There was nothing more for him to do but to wait.

Then they came to take him with them...