Acts of War

THIRTEEN

Ibrahim and the radio operator Hasan stood on the windy plain as Mahmoud knelt between them. They had Czechoslovakian Samopal submachine guns lying across their shoulders and Smith & Wesson.38s tucked into holsters on their belts. There were hunting knives sheathed on their hips.

Ibrahim held Mahmoud's weapons as his brother bent low on the hard earth. Tears trickled down the older man's dark cheeks and his voice cracked as he quoted the Holy Koran.

"He sends forth guardians who watch over you and carry away your souls without fail when death overtakes you"

Just minutes before, Walid had deposited his three passengers and their backpacks and weapons on this dry hillside. He'd given Mahmoud a gold ring he wore, one which was topped with two silver daggers crossed beneath a star. It was the ring which identified him as a leader of the group. Then he'd taken off again and flown the helicopter back toward the flood. Racing headlong into the raging waters, he'd allowed the helicopter to be swallowed up. A geyser of spray and steam had briefly marked its death. Then the three survivors had watched in horror as the helicopter's shattered remains were carried away by the torrent.

Walid had sacrificed himself and the chopper because it was the only way to erase the ship from Turkish radar. The only way to keep the team from being shot from the skies. The only way to protect the others so that they might continue the important work of the Kurdistan Workers' Party.

Mahmoud finished his prayer, but he continued to bow low. His voice soft and sorrowful, he asked, "Why you, Walid? You were our leader, our soul."

"Mahmoud," Ibrahim said softly, "patrols will be covering this region soon. We must go."

"You could have shown me how to fly the helicopter," Mahmoud said. "My life was not as important as yours. Who will lead the people now?"

"Mahmoud," Ibrahim said more insistently. "Min fadlak — please! You will lead us. He gave you the ring."

"Yes." Mahmoud nodded. "I will lead you. It was Walid's dying wish. There is still a great deal to be done."

Ibrahim had never seen such sadness and then anger in his brother's expression. And it occurred to him then that perhaps this was something else Walid wanted. The fire of hate in the hearts and eyes of his soldiers.

As Mahmoud stood, Ibrahim handed him his Parabellum and a.38.

"Thank you, my brother," Mahmoud said.

"According to Hasan," Ibrahim said with quiet confidence, "we can reach Sanliurfa by nightfall. We can stay in the foothills and hide if necessary. Or there is some traffic in the region. Perhaps we can capture a car or truck."

Mahmoud turned to Hasan, who was standing a respectful distance away. "We do not hide," he said. "Is that understood?"

"Aywa," said both men. "Yes."

"Lead us, Hasan," Mahmoud said. "And may the Holy Prophet guide us to our home and to the homes of our enemies."