From a corner, Sam appeared, followed by Moshe. The big HAWC nodded imperceptibly to Alex, and they too followed the procession as it made its way to a large languid river.

“Of course, the Tigris,” Adira said. “They will execute them here, let their blood flow into the river. It is symbolic, as it will then flow all the way to Baghdad, and other areas not yet under their control.”

“Yes, a symbol and a message to Baghdad,” Alex said. “The blood of your people comes first, then we will follow.”

The Hezar-Jihadi came to the riverbank, and forced the line of captives to their knees. A man set about digging a deep hole, and then dropped a stout pole around ten feet in length into it, which he then covered in, so just five feet of it remained above ground. The French pilot was lashed to this pole, and a small metal drum of liquid was put beside him. It was clear what his fate was to be.

The cameraman set up his tripod, and then arranged a dish to transmit their gruesome display directly to the satellite.

Adira snorted angrily. “There will be waiting fans right across the world. Also some news services all too willing to give them a platform. It is a barbaric time.”

The twenty kneeling captives had twenty Hezar-Jihadi in black balaclavas line up behind them. Each had been filmed taking a shiny new blade from a bin, and stood ready for their performance. Alex saw that the captives’ expressions were a mix of abject fear and resignation, right through to anger and defiance.

A crowd was gathering now, some calling out their support to the terrorists. Many of the curious were looking for excitement, or others to satisfy a bloodlust, and thank whoever they prayed to that it was being inflicted on someone else for a change. Alex, Sam, Moshe, and Adira were able to blend in and move closer.

Alex kept his eyes on the line of men. “Sam, you and I will take the butchers. Moshe, any man that lifts a gun is to be taken down. Adira, you free the pilot.”

“What about the camera? Will we knock that out first?” Sam asked.

“No,” Adira said fiercely. “Let it run. Nothing would insult them more than to see their brave warriors smashed, and their captives set free. We will send our own message today.”

Alex smiled grimly. “I doubt this episode is going to feature in their next recruitment drive.”

A single older man with a heavy silver-streaked beard cleared his throat, as two of the terrorists kept the crowd back and out of camera shot. The cameraman grinned as he adjusted his focus, and then held a hand up with one thumb raised. He set the camera to run on auto and stepped back, arms folded.