Nayef approached, stood beside him, and studied the results of the brief encounter.
“Well done, Lieutenant.”
Illah was still smiling when he saw one of his soldiers leading a woman toward him at gunpoint.
A small boy walked beside her. The child was crying.
“Why do you bring her here?” Illah demanded.
“You have your orders. Shoot both of them.”
When the young soldier hesitated, Illah drew his automatic.
“If you are too much of a coward, I will show how it is done,” he snarled.
“There — there is something — something you should know, Lieutenant,” the soldier stuttered.
“There is a man in the hut where the woman and child were hiding. He — he is wounded. The woman says he was injured in the crash of the helicopter.”
“It is not Captain Khaldun?” Illah asked.
Andera Kritara slowly maneuvered the small child around behind her until he was hidden by the fullness of her skirt. She stared back at the man holding the gun on her and Bondil, resolving not to let him see her flinch or blink. Despite the way he threatened her, beyond the display of bravado, she was convinced he looked nervous and uncertain. She vowed she would do nothing to provoke the young officer.
Illah approached her until his face was less than a few feet from hers.
“Who is this man you are trying to conceal?” he demanded.
Andera’s voice was steady. “I have not been t concealing him. I have been caring for him. He is injured.
I am a nurse.”
“I do not care whether or not he is wounded,” Illah spat.
“Who is he?”
“He is a Canadian,” Andera said.
Illah’s eyes narrowed. He looked flustered.
“I know nothing of any Canadian,” he said.
“What is he doing here in Koboli?”
Kashic Illah was keenly aware that one of Baddour’s most trusted confidants was observing him closely, and he was equally certain Nayef would soon be informing the general how well he had handled the situation. Because of that he was eager to erase any lingering doubts the flying officer might have had about his ability to handle a face-to-face confrontation with the Kurds. If he handled the situation properly, Nayef was in a position to recommend a promotion. Illah reasoned that all he had to do was impress the captain and the promotion was assured.
“Let me see this man,” Illah demanded.
“Take me to him.”
The soldier pointed at one of the small cottages.
Illah had already taken several steps toward it when he realized the soldier and his two captives were not following. His focus was on the woman.
“Bring her, leave the child.” When Andera hesitated, he became impatient.
“Tell the woman she will follow me or I will shoot the boy.”
Andera bent down and whispered in the child’s ear. He was trembling.
“Please, sir,” she pleaded.
“Do you not understand? The boy is terrified.”
“Shoot the child,” Illah demanded. As he did he saw Bogner standing in the doorway of the hut, and he waved off the command. Bogner was no longer blindfolded, but his vision was still hampered and he was unsteady. He groped his way down off the porch and limped in the direction of the voices. The NIMF officer could see the tortured nature of Bogner’s injuries, but he was approaching Illah with his hands up.
“You are the Canadian?” Illah asked. His English was fragmented but understandable.
Bogner managed a barely perceptible nod and stopped. He was less than fifteen feet from the Iraqi lieutenant and the officer had his automatic aimed at him.
“Why you are here?” Illah demanded.
Bogner’s voice was weak and he hoped the Iraqi officer could understand him.
“I was — I was being flown to a meeting with General Baddour when-we were attacked and shot down.”
“You lie,” Illah blustered.
“If you were on way to meet with General Baddour, our patrols would have escorted you, not shot at you.”
Bogner faltered. He had asked Ozal the same question while they were still in Istanbul, and Banks’s contact had told him the Turkish authorities would not permit the filing of a flight plan that would eventually carry them across the border between the two countries.
“We had — no way of informing General Baddour,” Bogner said.
Illah again felt the irritating presence of Nayef at his side. Nayef kept his voice low.
“Ask him for what purpose he seeks to meet with General Baddour.”
Bogner understood well enough to answer.
“I am with a firm called — Jade.”
“The name means nothing to me,” Illah declared.
As he did, Nayef leaned toward him again and whispered. The expression on Illah’s face changed.
“You have credentials to prove you are what you say?”
“No,” Bogner admitted, “they were destroyed in the crash.”
“We destroyed his credentials,” the woman interrupted.
“He is who he says he is.” The confirmation surprised Bogner.
Illah turned abruptly and glared at the woman.
“Why should I take the word of a Kurd whore?”
he sneered.
Andera waited until the wave of anger began to subside before she answered.
“He is not the only one who survived. There is another — he, like the Iraqi officer we captured, is still alive.”
Illah’s eyes narrowed.
“Iraqi officer? Where is this Iraqi officer?”
“They are in the pit,” Andera said.
“I will show you in exchange for your promise to let my son live.”
Illah turned to Nayef and began to laugh.
“Do you hear that, Captain? The Kurd whore tries to bargain with me?”
Unlike Illah, Nayef saw no reason to smile. He was slowly surveying the Kurd settlement and the steep, nearly impassable inclines that protected the village on two sides. The woman could be telling the truth or she could be lying. The Kurds were clever; the rocks were laced with literally hundreds of places where someone could be hidden.
He wondered if Illah understood that if they were unable to discover where the prisoners were being detained, it could be too late.
Nayef stepped forward, knowing that when he did, Illah would be embarrassed in front of his men.
“What business do you have with General
Bogner, unable to see clearly, knew that he needed to protect the Kurd woman.
“My company — Jade — sells weapons,” he managed to say.
“I was being flown to Ammash to do business with the NIMF.”
Nayef folded his arms.
“I can understand why you would choose not to file a flight plan with Turkish authorities. But I do not understand why you did not go through Iraqi authorities to obtain permission to travel to Ammash.”
Bogner thought the reason was obvious, but he explained anyway.
“Because the authorities in Baghdad would have detained me and interrogated me about the nature of my business in Ammash.
When they found out I was with Jade, they would have turned me away.”
Nayef stepped back and again lowered his voice as he spoke to the lieutenant.
“If Khaldun is alive, we must find him. Tell the woman you will permit the boy to live if she reveals the whereabouts of the two men.”
“The whore lies,” Illah seethed.
“It is nothing more than a stall tactic.”
Nayef continued to frown as he approached Bogner.
“Tell me, Canadian, you were alone on this flight?”
Bogner shook his head, and with the rush of pain wished he hadn’t. His reward was an instant headache.
“No. There were four of us, a man by the name of Ozal, who informed us he has had prior contacts with the general, a colleague of mine with Jade, and the pilot. The woman tells me that my associate and the pilot were killed in the crash.”