Read more





Shadow Killer – Chapter  one

23-112024 time : 11:30am


In the heart of Egypt’s western desert stands an ancient, crumbling fortress. No one knows when it fell into ruin, but its desolation speaks of centuries gone by. Today, the desert’s eerie silence is broken by the roar of approaching jeeps kicking up clouds of dust.

The first jeep halts before the fortress’s shattered gates. Out steps a man, dust settling around his boots. His name: 


Jamir Sheikh, one of the Arab world’s most feared outlaws. A man hardened by loss and vengeance, he had watched his family perish in indiscriminate American bombings during the Iraq War. Now, vengeance drives his every step—those who wronged him will pay dearly.


The world’s most wanted terrorist, with a $20 million bounty on his head, is now in hiding. But that’s not on Jamir’s mind at the moment. He has come to this desolate fortress with a singular purpose.


Jamir is accompanied by eleven men, some in military fatigues, others in casual T-shirts and jeans. Heavily armed, this group stands ready as they plan their next mission in the blazing desert heat.


They stop near the fortress’s well. According to the youngest member, Mustaq, something lies hidden at the bottom. Jamir’s piercing gaze fixes on him.


“Go down and see!” Jamir orders. Mustaq hesitates but obeys, gripping a rope and lowering himself into the darkness. Moments later, his voice echoes back: 



“There’s no water!”

Fury flashes in Jamir’s eyes. Without a second thought, he raises his machine gun and fires into the well. The thunderous shots shatter the desert’s silence, leaving Mustaq’s lifeless body at the bottom.

But something catches Jamir’s eye. Etched into the well’s wall are intricate carvings and hieroglyphics. He signals for explosives, and moments later, the wall is blasted apart. As the dust settles, a hidden chamber is revealed.

Before him lies an ancient enigma, a treasure from a forgotten era. Greed and curiosity light up Jamir’s eyes. What secrets does this hidden trove hold?

Jamir’s voice reverberates through the chamber:



“Bring me my bag!”


Here’s the rewritten English version of the provided Bangla text, keeping the narrative depth and flow intact:



Two
France.


A soft blue dusk blanketed the city of Normandy, with the sky glittering under countless vibrant stars.


Masud Rana locked the office door behind him and climbed the stairs to his apartment. The space was neat and tidy, but his mind was weighed down with exhaustion. It had only been a few days since this new branch opened, and things were finally gaining momentum. Clients were coming in; six cases had already landed on his desk. The four new agents from BCI were engrossed in their respective assignments, submitting daily reports for Rana’s review.


Still, the monotony of sorting through office files felt stifling. Rana couldn't shake the thought: this wasn't the work meant for him. But who could he share this frustration with?

The words of BCI Chief, Major General (Retd.) Rahat Khan, echoed in his mind:


“Rana, we desperately need foreign currency. Operating costs have skyrocketed. To survive, we need cutting-edge technology, supercomputers, and highly skilled personnel. For too long, you’ve been taking risks without proper resources. But how long can that last? Competing with international intelligence agencies without modern tools is impossible.”

These words had left an indelible mark on Rana. That’s why he had been relentlessly opening branches across European and American cities. Most of the revenue went back to fund the main operations at home. Even on weekends, Rana worked tirelessly.

But this evening brought a surprise. The BCI Chief had granted him a week off. The message also read:



“From now on, weekends—Saturday and Sunday—will officially be your days off. Inform your team.”

For the first time in a while, Rana felt a sense of relief. After washing up, he sat on the sofa for a while, lost in thought. He didn’t bother turning on the TV. Instead, he planned to heat some food from the fridge. At one point, he considered making coffee but dismissed the idea—it would only ruin his sleep.

In the quiet, he thought of his colleague, Sohel. His girlfriend, Neela, was ready to marry him, but it seemed Sohel was reluctant to give up his freedom. Absently, Rana mused:


“Has my loneliness infected the poor guy?”

He also thought of Sohana, his cousin in America. She had called him after attending her son’s birthday party and confessed, “Even with everything I have, it still feels like something’s missing.” Rana had no reply. In his line of work, dreaming of a family seemed like forbidden territory.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Picking it up, he heard a familiar voice—it was Colonel John Brown, a retired British officer.


“Rana, I need your help,” the Colonel said.

Years ago, Colonel Brown had saved Rana’s life in the jungles of Congo. Now, his voice carried urgency.


“Tell me how I can help,” Rana replied, intrigued.

The Colonel explained that he was anchored near San Remo, Italy, aboard a yacht. The details couldn’t be shared over the phone. Without hesitation, Rana decided to set off early the next morning.


Three
Morning dawned bright over the Mediterranean, bathing San Remo in golden sunlight. The picturesque town—with its harbor, historic streets, and shimmering blue sea—seemed to draw the soul toward it.

As Rana waited for the Colonel’s launch, memories from the past resurfaced. His comrade, Roderick. His lover, Rafaela. Both were lost to him.



“One day, I too will vanish like this...”

He picked up a small pebble and hurled it into the sea. The waves broke it into white foam before swallowing it whole. Snapping back to the present, Rana’s thoughts turned to the Colonel’s predicament.

Looking toward the harbor, he spotted a white motor launch approaching. As it neared, Rana descended the stairs and started walking toward the dock.

In a few moments, he would learn what kind of trouble Colonel John Brown was in.