Honor Among Thieves

“Have you no family pride?” asked Aziz.

“Certainly,” said Jasmin. “But he is also a cousin.”

On Jasmin’s advice, Aziz took the longer southern route around the town. He was unable to avoid all the potholes, and from time to time he heard groans coming from the trunk. Jasmin pointed to a junction ahead of them and told Aziz that that was where he should stop. She gathered up her bags, leaving some fruit on the seat between them. Aziz came to a halt by a road that led back into the center of the town. Jasmin jumped out, smiled and waved. Aziz waved back, and wondered when he would see his cousin again.

He drove on alone to the far side of the town, still unable to risk letting his colleagues out of the trunk while the few locals around could observe what was going on.

Once Khalis was a couple of miles behind him, Aziz came to a halt at a crossroads which displayed two signposts. One read “Tuz Khurmatoo 120km,” and the other “Tuz Khurmatoo 170km.” He checked in every direction before climbing out of the car, opening the trunk and letting the three baggage passengers tumble out onto the road. While they stretched their limbs and took deep breaths of air, Aziz pointed to the signposts. Scott didn’t need to look at the map to decide which road they would have to take.

“We must take the longer route,” he said, “and hope that they still think we’re in the truck.” Hannah slammed down the trunk with feeling before they all four jumped back into the car.

Aziz averaged forty miles an hour on the winding road, his three passengers ducking out of sight whenever another vehicle appeared on the horizon.

The four of them devoured the fresh fruit Jasmin had left on the front seat.

When they passed a signpost indicating twenty kilometers to Tuz Khurmatoo Scott said to Aziz, “I want you to stop a little way outside the village and go in alone before we decide if it’s safe for us to drive straight through. Don’t forget it’s only another three miles beyond Tuz Khurmatoo to the highway, so the place could be swarming with soldiers.”

“And to the Kurdish border?” asked Hannah.

“About forty-five miles,” said Scott as he continued to study the map. Aziz drove for another twenty minutes before he came over the brow of a hill and could see the outline of a village nestling in the valley. A few moments later he pulled the car off the road and parked it under a row of citrus trees that sheltered them from the sun and the prying eyes of those in passing vehicles. Aziz listened carefully to Scott’s instructions, got out of the car and jogged off in the direction of Tuz Khurmatoo.

General Hamil was too furious to speak when the young Lieutenant informed him that the Cadillac had passed through the Khalis checkpoint less than an hour before, and neither of the soldiers on duty had bothered to check the trunk.

After a minimum of torture, one of them had confessed that the terrorists must have been helped by a young girl who regularly passed through the checkpoint.

“She will never pass through it again,” had been the General’s one observation.

The only other piece of information they were able to get out of the soldiers was that whoever had been driving the car was the girl’s cousin, and a homosexual. Hamil wondered how they could possibly know that.

Once again, the General returned to the map on the wall behind his desk. He had already given orders for an army of helicopters, trucks, tanks and motorcycles to cover every inch of the road between Khalis and the border, but still no one had reported seeing a Cadillac on the highway. He was mystified, knowing they couldn’t possibly have turned back or they would have run straight into his troops.

His eyes searched every route between the checkpoint and the border yet again. “Ah,” he said finally, “they must have taken the road through the hills.” The General ran his finger along a thin winding red line until it joined the main highway.

“So that’s where you are,” he said, before bellowing out some new orders.

It was almost an hour before Cohen announced, “One Kurd heading towards us, sir.”

As Aziz came running up the slope the grin remained on his face. He had been into Tuz Khurmatoo and he was able to reassure them that the village was going about its business as usual. But the government radio was blasting out a warning to be on the lookout for four terrorists who had attempted to assassinate the Great Leader, so all the main roads were now crawling with soldiers. “They’ve got good descriptions of all four of us, but the radio bulletin an hour ago was still saying we were in the truck.”

“Right, Aziz,” said Scott, “drive us through the village. Hannah, sit in the front with Aziz. The Sergeant and I will lie down in the back. Once we’re on the other side of Tuz we’ll keep out of sight and only continue on to the border after it’s dark.”

Aziz took his place behind the wheel, and the Cadillac began its slow journey into Tuz.

The main road through the village must have been about three hundred yards long and just about wide enough to take two cars. Hannah looked at the little timber shops and the men who were growing old sitting on steps and leaning against walls. A dirty old Cadillac traveling slowly through the village, she thought, would probably be the highlight of their day, until she saw the vehicle at the other end of the road.

“There’s a jeep coming towards us,” she said calmly. “Four men, one of them sitting behind what looks like an anti-aircraft gun mounted on the back.”

“Just keep driving slowly, Aziz,” said Scott. “And Hannah, keep talking us through it.”

“They’re about a hundred yards away from us now and beginning to take an interest.” Cohen pointed to the tool bag and grabbed a wrench. Scott also selected a wrench as they both turned over slowly and rested on their knees.

“The jeep has swung across in front of us,” said Hannah. “We’re going to be forced to stop in about five seconds.”

“Does it still look as if there are four of them?” asked Scott.

“Yes,” said Hannah. “I can’t see any more.”

The Cadillac came to a halt.