"You do not lie to my people. Understand?" She got out the words before forgetting them.
The kicked look went away. He smiled.
"What are you smiling at?"
"You're defending them as if they were your family."
"They are Kurds. Of course they are like family."
He shook his head with amusement. "I can't believe you remained silent in prison for five years. You don't even consider yourself an Iraqi."
She was almost happy that he understood that there was a difference.
"I remained silent because lama. Kurd."
"And your sister?"
"She is a Kurd, too," Fahimah said shortly, turning and walking to the van. Before getting in, she noticed an SUV that was parked a couple of cars away behind them. She shoved the bag inside the van and marched down to the SUV. The windows were tinted and closed, but she had no trouble seeing the military uniform of the driver behind the wheel.
She stood on the sidewalk and knocked on the window. In the glass reflection she saw that Austyn had moved behind her.
'Tell them to open the window," she said over her shoulder.
"Open the window," he repeated.
The window rolled slowly down. There were four people inside the car. Her escorts. Matt Sutton was sitting nearest to her, looking out the passenger window.
"I am going to say this only once, and you all had better hear it," she said sharply. "You need my help. I am trying to help you. But you ruin my chances when you behave this way."
Fahimah pointed at the bustling street. "Do you see any foreign troops here?"
The four men looked around obediently. Agent Sutton was the one brave enough to shake his head.
"Now, do you see those people in uniform?" she pointed again. "Those two are policemen who direct the traffic. And the other three that you see in that intersection are Peshmerga. They are in charge of security. We saw them all through the city as we drove here. All I need to do is call or wave my hand to get their attention. They will not allow anything.. .anything...to happen to me or any other Kurd walking the streets."
They were all listening, as her students used to, so she continued.
"I'm in search of a person who can direct me to where I can get you some answers. Now, it is bad enough to have these two people with me." She pointed vaguely over her shoulder. "But I might manage to explain that. The four of you, however, is completely wrong. Other than frightening people away, you accomplish nothing."
"They might not know we're following you," Sutton suggested hopefully.
She shook her head. It was like speaking to children. "You are foreigners. You stand out more than aborigines in the House of Lords. Either stop following me or I shall just go back to the hotel. I will not waste my time."
The men looked at her, and then she saw Sutton's gaze shift upward, over her shoulder.
"Please tell them to go back to the hotel," she said to Austyn without turning around.
"Go back to the hotel," he repeated after a moment's pause.
Fahimah decided to stand there and wait. Sutton gave her a half salute and the windows rolled up. The SUV pulled into the traffic.
"Do you feel better now?" Austyn asked.
She turned around and started back to the van. "Thank you. I feel much better."
"My old Catholic nuns have nothing on you."
Fahimah nodded. "Thank you. I shall consider that a compliment."
She climbed inside the van. Again, rather than sitting in front, Austyn climbed in after her. Ken pulled out into traffic.
"Did you have them dismissed?" he asked, grinning into the rearview mirror.
"She did," Austyn told Ken. "Watch what you say or she might do the same thing to you."
Fahimah knew Austyn was trying to make light of everything, but her nerves were beginning to get the best of her. She didn't know if she was in the right city. She wasn't sure if her sister was anywhere around here or if she would be able get in touch with Rahaf. And if she did find her, could she trust these people to stand by their word? Suddenly, she was doubting everything, including herself.
"Okay, now it's only the three of us," Austyn told her. "How about telling us who you're looking for and how we can help?"
It would have been so much easier to deal with him if he were a louse, Fahimah thought. He annoyed her at times, but all in all he'd been cooperative and forthcoming. He wanted to achieve his goal; that she could count on.
Ken was battling traffic. The streets were packed with cars. She glanced at the clock on the dash. It was almost four o'clock in the afternoon.
"We are in Erbil since I believe my sister would have come to Kurdistan," she told Austyn. "But for five years, naturally, I have had no contact with her."
"Did she have a house here? Somewhere that we can take you to?"
"Yes… well, no. She lost me five years ago. She knew American troops would consider her an enemy just because of her work. She would not live where you, I or anyone else could find her."
"That makes sense, but we should try there to begin with, don't you think?"
"I already have. From the hotel. I rang up the city offices. Her house no longer stands. There is a new office building being constructed where she used to live. And as far as moving to some other address, I checked the telephone directory."
This was something new. With all the developments in Erbil, obviously, came the modernization of many people having a telephone. And there would be a need for a directory.
"She'd be in the phone book?"
Fahimah could imagine how idiotic these agents would feel if they thought for all these years Rahaf had been listed in some directory.
"No," she said, wanting to put his mind at ease. "She would not be listed under any name that you would know."
"But you know how she would list her name."
"Yes, and as I suspected she's not there."
Ken looked in the rearview mirror at them. "I've seen that phone book. I'd say not even a tenth of the people living in Erbil are in there."
She shrugged. "That may be true, but it was worth a try. This city is too large to go door to door trying to find her." In phoning around, Fahimah had made sure to leave her name in many places. Her hope was that if enough people heard she was back in Erbil, Rahaf would hear about it and find her.
"So what's the next step?"
"I was getting there," she replied, hearing the impatience in her own voice. Fahimah glanced at the clock again. Erbil was having big-city problems. Traffic. Fifteen minutes and they hadn't moved far. She could see the sun's amber-colored heat rising in waves off the cars ahead of them.
"I'm hoping to find a man who, in the old days, would spread his prayer blanket at the foot of the street leading up to the prison," she told them.
The looks the two men sent her smacked of skepticism.
"A homeless old man?" Ken asked from the front seat.
"Jalal is not homeless," she explained. "He is a dervish… a holy man. Actually, he became a dervish after his only son was arrested by Saddam almost thirty years ago."
"By dervish," Ken explained to Austyn, "she is talking about members of an ascetic Sufi religious fraternity. They're known for their extreme poverty and austerity."
"I know a little bit about them," Austyn answered. He turned to Fahimah. "And you know this man?"
She nodded. "Many know him. He came from a village near Halabja. He is well respected."
"But he came before the trouble there?"
"Yes," she replied, looking out the window. "He came before that tragedy."
As the traffic moved a little, two Peshmerga came along the sidewalk. They looked at her as they passed the van and nodded. She smiled and turned back to Austyn.
"What happened to his son?" he asked.
She shook her head. "It was the way of the world then. He was arrested and never seen again. So different from my own situation, don't you think?"