It didn’t seem like much, but it knocked me for six. How were we ever going to stop this thing? Back in Aïn Deb, it had all seemed so simple, I’d imagined the estate extricating itself from this nightmare in no time, I thought all we needed was for people to talk to each other, for parents to tell their kids everything. Fuckwit that I am, I’d imagined climbing up on the roof of a car and talking about brotherhood, about truth, about the future. But it was the new imam, Cyclops’ agents who did the talking. The One-Eye fucker had heard from his spies that my parents had been murdered by jihadists and that I’d gone back to the bled to visit their graves. His messenger said the imam sent me his blessings and wanted to meet with me to explain what had really happened. It was a no-brainer, I said I’d meet him and hear him out. If he was going to offer me the chance to kill him in place of his Algerian mates, I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. Given there was nothing else I could do, revenge was a good Plan B. Fuck – it was my duty!