Fighting to control her panic, Shoshana looked around for Mustapha. Then she saw the truck moving down the street toward the gate. Mustapha honked the horn as he eased through the men crossing the street to the bus stop. She fought down the urge to run as she walked out into the road and jumped into the back of the truck. She heard loud shouts from the gate and two gunshots. Mustapha hit the accelerator and the horn at the same time, adding to the confusion. Then Habish was at the tailgate scrambling to get on board. Another man was also trying to climb on the truck and escape the shooting. Mustapha drove faster, barging through the crowd.
Shoshana held on to the side of the truck and grabbed the back of Habish’s shirt with her free hand, trying to pull him in. But the other man was in the way. With a vicious kick in the face, Shoshana sent him sprawling in the road. She heard a scream followed by a loud thump. They had run over a man not able to get out of the way. Then Habish was in the truck and they were clear of the crowd. “What happened?” she gasped.
“Mustapha shot the guard and I broke away in the confusion. Where’s the Uzi?” Shoshana scrambled up to the cab and reached through the open rear window. She grabbed the small machine gun that was hidden behind the seat and passed it back to him. “They’ll be after us,” Habish predicted. “We need to ditch the truck and separate. I didn’t get my ID back from the guard. It’s got my picture on it… So listen.
“They’re in full production making a binary nerve gas at the plant. That doesn’t make sense because binary systems are the devil to make — takes too much quality control. It would be much easier for them to make a normal V agent, like the Soviets do with their VR Fifty-five. Also, that building Mana never took you through is crawling with Europeans and Chinese. I got inside …”
“How did you do that?” Shoshana was amazed. “It was so well guarded.”
Habish ignored her question. “I got as far as the machine shop before a guard found me. They’re making a special casing for one part of the nerve agent.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of shavings. “It’s some kind of polymeric material.” He gave her half of the shavings. “Shoshana, we’ve got to get out that combo pen, these shavings, and what’s going on in there.” He crawled up to the cab’s rear window and told Mustapha they had to get rid of the truck and split up.
“You said a guard found you,” Shoshana said when he rejoined her.
“I had to kill him. I stuffed the body in an air shaft but before I could crawl out of the duct, the next shift came on. I had to spend six hours in that air shaft with a corpse. Then by the time I got out of the building, I had to wait for the next shift change. Then with my rotten luck, some worker found the body and security started an ID check on everybody in the plant. In order to leave, you had to get your ID checked and pick up an exit pass. I ‘borrowed’ an exit pass from a worker.”
“How?”
“God, you’re naive. I had to strangle the bastard. Anyway, you saw what happened at the gate — the pass didn’t match my ID.”
“Habish. There.” Shoshana was pointing to a sandy-brown-colored truck four hundred meters behind them. She could see a man standing behind a machine gun mounted aft of the open cab.
“Mustapha!” Habish yelled. “We’ve got a weapons carrier behind us.” The Kurd floored the accelerator and started to weave through the traffic, putting four cars between them and the pursuing truck. The machine gun on the weapons carrier barked and a car behind them spun out and crashed, blocking most of the road. Mustapha gained a little more distance when their pursuers slowed to get around the wreckage they had created. “Just some bastard going about his own business,” Habish said. He was staring at the truck that was chasing them. “They’re probably talking on the radio. We haven’t got long.”
Now the weapons carrier was clear of the crash and accelerating. The three cars still behind them had heard the machine gun, seen the crash, and pulled over. The road was clear behind them. “He’s gaining on us,” Shoshana shouted. Again the machine gun raked the road. But the distance was still too grat and Mustapha was weaving the truck back and forth. A bend in the road gave them a moment’s respite.
Habish was lying on the truck bed beside Shoshana, still holding the Uzi. “We won’t be so lucky next time.” He crawled forward to the cab and yelled at Mustapha. Shoshana could not understand what he said and panic twisted through her when she felt the truck slow. Mustapha was pulling alongside and matching the speed of two cars they were overtaking. When they were abeam of the lead car, Habish stood up and held the Uzi over the side. He raked the top of the car with a short burst. Mustapha keyed on the gunfire and swerved the truck, smashing into the small car. Habish turned the Uzi on the following car and fired through its windshield, killing the driver. Shoshana caught a glimpse of a family inside as they sped away and Habish lobbed an incendiary grenade at the cars. She sickened when the two cars burst into flames.
For a brief moment, Shoshana seriously considered shooting Habish. Her humanity was in shreds and she could not accept the price others had to pay for their escape. “You fucking shithead!” she screamed. “You goddamned fucking shithead! You’re killing innocent people! They’re innocent!” Habish slapped her hard, cutting her off, stopping the wave of condemnation.
“Look!” He was pointing back down the road. The two cars were totally blocking the highway and they could see the weapons carrier off to the side as it slowly worked its way past the wreckage. “They don’t care if they kill their own people.” He was snarling. “Why should we?”
‘ ‘Because we aren’t them.” She stopped at a loss for words. Habish ignored her when Mustapha called for him to come forward and talk. Shoshana could see the weapons carrier in the far distance moving after them again and yelled the news through the rear window of the cab.
“Up ahead,” Habish shouted. “When we stop, you and Mustapha jump out. Follow him.” He half turned his head toward her. “Do whatever it takes to get out of Iraq.” He paused. “We’ve got to do this. We don’t have a choice.” For a fraction of a second. Shoshana thought she heard a trace of humanity in his voice. She didn’t believe it.
They rounded a corner and Mustapha slammed on the brakes. Before the truck was fully stopped, Shoshana was out and running between two low buildings, and Mustapha was right behind her. She heard the gears on the truck grind as Habish sped away. Sooner than she expected, the weapons carrier shot by. “There’s a car out back,” Mustapha told her.
“What about Habish?” she asked.
“He knows what he has to do.” The distant rattle of a heavy machine gun cut off his words. “Come,” he said, “time to become a man and wife going about their business.” He led her out to the car where the teenage girl who had helped wash her hair was waiting.
The girl frowned when she handed Shoshana her new papers. “You’ll like being Mustapha’s wife,” she said as Shoshana got into the car.
Mustapha spoke softly to the girl and touched her cheek. Then he hopped in behind the wheel. “Meral is my wife,” he explained and started the engine. “She’s expecting our first child.” Much to her surprise, Mustapha turned down the road in the same direction they had been going. “That is the way we want to go,” he said. A few minutes later they were caught behind a string of cars, inching their way past the burning wreckage of Habish’s truck. His escape had ended in a crash with another truck. A soldier waved them by and did not stop them for an identification check. Shoshana caught a whiff of burning flesh as they drove off.