The car hummed steadily as Mourad drove, the city's chaotic streets giving way to quieter, open roads. He glanced briefly at Ayman, who sat tensely in the passenger seat.
"You have some free time now?" Mourad asked, breaking the silence.
Ayman hesitated, unsure where this was leading. "Yeah, I do."
Mourad nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. "Good. Let's go somewhere nice. How about Sidi Bou Said?"
"Sidi Bou Said?" Ayman repeated, a hint of surprise in his voice.
"Yeah," Mourad replied. "The view there is incredible, and there's a coffee shop I know you'll like. It's the kind of place that helps clear your head."
Ayman shifted in his seat, his unease growing as the car sped forward. "It's kind of far, isn't it?"
Mourad smirked. "Far? Sure. But it's worth it. You'll see."
The road stretched on, the sprawling cityscape gradually fading into the distance. Mourad seemed relaxed, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping lightly to the rhythm of a faint tune on the radio.
"I used to live not far from your neighborhood," Mourad said suddenly, breaking the silence.
Ayman turned to him, startled by the personal revelation. "You did?"
Mourad nodded, his tone growing reflective. "Yeah. Back then, I was just like everyone else there. Struggling, trying to make it. Your brother, Karim, and I were friends as kids."
"You knew Karim before?" Ayman asked, his voice tinged with surprise and suspicion.
Mourad chuckled lightly. "Yeah, we used to play in the streets together. Then my family moved, and we lost touch. But three months ago, I ran into him at the police station. He recognized me right away."
"What you were doing at the station?"
Mourad's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly. "I had some papers to do. They asked for my ID and after a while another police come and asked me few personal questions and all sudden I realized that was your brother and he remembered me. We talked, then we had a drink, caught up a few times after that. He spoke about you a lot."
"About me?"
"Yeah," Mourad said with a small smile, turning the car onto the coastal road leading to Sidi Bou Said. The sea glimmered in the distance. "He told me enough to make me curious. Don't worry. Once we get there, I'll tell you more."
The car climbed the winding road, the whitewashed buildings of Sidi Bou Said finally coming into view, perched against the azure Mediterranean. Ayman stared out the window, his thoughts racing, unsure of what awaited him at their destination.
As Mourad parked the car at the entrance of Sidi Bou Said, Ayman stepped out, immediately struck by the village's charm.
The narrow, cobblestone streets meandered up the hillside, flanked by whitewashed buildings adorned with vibrant blue doors and window frames, a hallmark of the town's Andalusian-inspired architecture.
The midday sun bathed the scene in a warm glow, casting intricate shadows from the wrought-iron balconies draped with cascading bougainvillea in vivid pinks and purples. The air was filled with the mingling scents of jasmine and freshly baked pastries from nearby cafés.
As they walked, Ayman noticed the lively atmosphere. Locals and tourists alike strolled through the streets, browsing artisan shops displaying traditional ceramics, intricate carpets, and handcrafted jewelry. Street musicians played melodic tunes on ouds and flutes, adding a harmonious backdrop to the vibrant street life.
Ayman couldn't help but express his amazement. "Wow, it's very nice here. I haven't been here much before."
Mourad smiled, pleased with Ayman's reaction. "Yes, it's a popular spot, especially during weekends and in the summer when tourists flock here. But even now, it has its own charm."
They continued their ascent, passing by quaint tea houses and cafés, each exuding a timeless elegance with their blue and white façades. The sound of lively conversations and the clinking of tea glasses filled the air, painting a picture of a place where time seemed to slow down.
Reaching a vantage point near the top of the hill, they paused to take in the breathtaking panorama. The Mediterranean Sea stretched out before them, its deep blue waters meeting the sky at a distant horizon.
Ayman stood in awe, absorbing the beauty and tranquility of Sidi Bou Said, a stark contrast to the bustling city life he was accustomed to. The village's serene ambiance and stunning vistas left an indelible impression on him, marking the beginning of a new chapter in his journey.
Mourad led Ayman into a charming coffee shop nestled in the heart of Sidi Bou Said. The exterior gleamed with its signature blue and white colors, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and jasmine filled the air. Inside, the décor was timeless: ornate blue tiles adorned the walls, and white wooden chairs with intricately woven seats surrounded small tables draped in simple, elegant linens.
An elderly server approached them with a warm smile. His skin was sun-kissed and weathered, and his gentle demeanor spoke of years spent welcoming visitors. "Welcome, welcome," he greeted, his voice deep and kind. "What can I get for you, gentlemen?"
Ayman hesitated, unsure. "I'm not sure," he mumbled, glancing nervously at Mourad.
Mourad caught his hesitation and smiled. "Order whatever you like. It's on me."
Relieved, Ayman said, "Okay, I'll just have some tea."
Mourad turned to the server. "One tea, an espresso, and a bottle of water, please."
The old man nodded with a grin. "Coming right up. You'll enjoy this spot. It's special."
Mourad motioned for Ayman to follow him. "Let's go to the second floor. It's quieter up there, and the view is unbeatable."
They ascended the narrow, creaky staircase, the sounds of lively chatter and the clinking of cups fading behind them. The second floor was serene, bathed in soft sunlight streaming through arched windows framed by flowing blue curtains. Mourad chose a corner table by the window, secluded from the other patrons but offering a breathtaking view.
As they sat, Ayman's gaze drifted out the window. The panorama was nothing short of spectacular. The coffee shop perched high on the hill offered an uninterrupted view of the Mediterranean Sea, its deep blue waters shimmering under the afternoon sun. The marina below was dotted with white sailboats gently rocking against the tide, their sails glistening like pearls. Beyond, the coastline stretched endlessly, blending into the horizon where the sea kissed the sky.
"Look at this," Mourad said, leaning back in his chair. "Isn't it beautiful? A place like this… it clears your head."
Ayman couldn't tear his eyes away. "It's amazing," he murmured, almost in a daze. "I've never seen anything like this before."
The scene was alive with subtle movement: the soft rustle of the breeze in the trees below, the distant hum of voices from the streets, and the occasional flutter of seagulls overhead. The sheer serenity of the place was overwhelming, a stark contrast to Ayman's usual surroundings.
For a moment, both men sat in silence, taking it all in. The server returned with their drinks, placing them gently on the table. "Enjoy," he said with a knowing smile, before retreating.
Mourad took a sip of his espresso and gestured toward the view. "This is why I come here. To remind myself that there's still beauty in the world, even when life gets complicated."
Ayman nodded, the sea and sky reflected in his wide eyes. This was a place of peace, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself feel it.
Ayman leaned forward, intrigued and cautious, as Mourad began speaking. Mourad's expression softened, his voice barely above a whisper. "You know, when I was younger, I didn't see Tunisia's beauty either. I was like you—caught up in survival, unaware of what was around me. But once I started working, earning money, I began exploring. There are places even more beautiful than this. Someday, I'll take you to see them all, one by one. But for now, let's just enjoy this moment. Drink your tea, relax, and feel free to ask me whatever's on your mind."
Ayman hesitated, sipping his tea. The warm, aromatic brew didn't calm his unease entirely. Finally, he broke the silence. "Why are you helping me? I mean, I know you were friends with my brother, and he was respected… but why go out of your way to make me… like you? A hitman?"
Mourad smiled faintly and leaned in closer, glancing around to ensure no one could hear. "Let's keep that talk quiet here, okay? It's not the kind of place to discuss such things openly." He paused before continuing, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Let me explain. I work for an international agency—an organization that trains and deploys hitmen. Twice a year, they recruit new members, and experienced agents, like me, are sent to scout for potential candidates."
Ayman's eyes widened. "And you think I'm a… candidate?"
Mourad nodded. "It's not random. We look for people who fit a specific profile—smart, resourceful, and, more importantly, people who've experienced loss or are running from something. People who have nothing to lose and everything to gain."
He took another sip of his espresso before continuing. "When I came across your profile, it clicked. You're Karim's brother. That's what made me reach out. After hearing about his death, I knew I had to do something. I wasn't in Tunis when it happened; I was working in Sousse. By the time I returned and found out, it was too late to pay my respects properly. I felt terrible for not being there."
Mourad's gaze grew distant as he spoke. "I remembered your family, your brother, and you as a little kid. But your family probably doesn't remember me. Your mother wouldn't recognize me now, and you were too young back then. I don't even know he was married last year. That's why I couldn't just walk up to your house and say, 'Hey, let's talk.' It would have been awkward, maybe even suspicious."
Ayman listened intently, his suspicion momentarily replaced by curiosity. Mourad continued, "So, I decided to find you on my own. That's why I went to the graveyard—to pay my respects to Karim and to see you. When I saw you there, I knew I had to approach you. Offering you help wasn't just about the agency. It was about making sure Karim's family was taken care of. That's why I offered you the money. Your family deserves better."
Mourad leaned back, his eyes steady on Ayman. "This isn't just about recruiting you. It's about giving you an opportunity to change your life. To help your family in a way that Karim would've wanted."
Ayman swallowed hard, his thoughts swirling with confusion and intrigue. The words hit him like a wave—half comforting, half terrifying. Mourad's motives seemed genuine, but the path he was offering was dark and uncertain.
Mourad leaned back in his chair, looking out at the serene Mediterranean view before returning his gaze to Ayman. He gave a faint, reflective smile. "You're right. It does seem random, doesn't it? But life doesn't always give us choices. Sometimes it just throws us into situations, and we have to deal with them."
He took a deep breath, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of melancholy. "I didn't choose to be a hitman, Ayman. It wasn't something I wanted or dreamed about. It started with revenge, something personal that spiraled out of control. My teacher, the one who trained me, found me after a crime I committed. She saw potential in me, I guess. She said I could move forward, make something of myself—even if it was in a dark, twisted way."
Ayman tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "What crime? Why did you do it?"
Mourad smiled softly but didn't answer directly. "It's a complicated story, but I hope you'll understand someday. When I started down this path, I never imagined it would take me here. Life… it just happened."
Ayman pressed further. "But why? What happened that pushed you into this? Why did you become a hitman?"
Mourad's smile faded as he nodded, seemingly prepared for the question. "I knew you'd ask me this eventually. And since we're here, in such a beautiful place, I suppose it's as good a time as any to tell you."
He paused for a moment, then leaned in closer, his voice quieter. "Do you know why your brother, Karim, stopped watching football?"
Ayman frowned, trying to recall. "I remember he didn't like football, but I never knew why. I thought it was just… something he outgrew."
Mourad shook his head. "No, there was a reason. I know because I was there that day. And maybe your mother has told you, or maybe she hasn't. But I lost my 10 years old brother during a derby match."
Ayman's eyes widened. "What? A derby? What happened?"
Mourad's gaze turned distant as he began to recount the memory. "It was years ago. I was 15 years old same age as your brother back then. There was a derby between Taraji and Club African. A big match, decisive. Both clubs were fighting for the title, and tensions were high. You know how passionate people can get about football here. It was a one-point difference—whoever won the game would take the championship."
He paused, his jaw tightening. "The game was intense, and in the final minutes, there was a controversial play. A goal was scored, but it was offside. The referee didn't call it. He let it stand as a goal."
Mourad's voice grew heavier as he spoke. "The stadium erupted. Fans went wild, accusing the referee of being biased, of rigging the game. And then… chaos. Fights broke out everywhere. People stormed the pitch, and the violence spread into the stands. It was madness. And that is how I lost my younger brother."
Mourad looked back at Ayman, his expression somber. "That day changed everything for me. I blamed myself for taking him to that game. I blamed the referee, the fans, everyone. I was angry at the world, and that anger stayed with me for a long time. It's what led me down this path. Revenge, at first, and then… survival."
Ayman sat in stunned silence, the weight of Mourad's story sinking in. The picturesque view around them seemed almost cruelly serene in contrast to the dark tale he had just heard.