Honour Among Thieves (51 page)

The
border guard moved quickly for the first time that day. Jasmin gave him a smile
as he retrieved the cigarettes, and whispered something in his ear. The soldier
looked at Aziz and started laughing, as a large lorry stacked with crates of
beer came to a halt behind them.

‘Move
on, move on,’ shouted the first soldier, as the sight of greater rewards caught
his eye. Aziz quickly obeyed and lurched forward in second gear, nearly
throwing Cohen and the holdall out of the back.

‘What
did you say to that soldier?’ asked Aziz once they were out of earshot.

‘I
told him you were gay, but I would be returning on my own later.’

‘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 boot. 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
centre 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 boot 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 boot 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 boot 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 kilometres 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 boot.

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 sole 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, lorries, 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 travelling 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 selected a spanner 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.

‘The
jeep has stopped only a few yards in front of us. One of the soldiers is
getting out and another is following. Two are staying in the jeep. One is
behind the mounted gun and the other is still at the wheel. We’ll take the
first two,’ said Hannah. ‘You’ll have to deal with the two in the jeep.’

‘Understood,’
said Scott.

The
first soldier reached the driver’s side as the second passed the bumper on
Hannah’s right. Both Aziz and Hannah had their outside hands on the armrests,
their doors already an inch open.

The
instant Aziz saw the first soldier glance into the back and go for his gun, he
swung his door open so fast that the crack of the soldier’s knees sounded like
a bullet as he collapsed to the ground. Aziz was out of the car and on top of
him long before he had time to recover. The second soldier ran towards Hannah
as Scott leaped out of the car. Hannah delivered one blow to his carotid artery
and another to the base of his spine as he tried to pull out his gun. A bullet
would not have killed him any quicker. The third soldier started firing from
the back of the jeep. Cohen dived out into the road, and the fourth soldier
jumped from behind the wheel and ran towards him, firing his pistol. Cohen
hurled the wrench at him, causing him to step to one side and straight into the
firing line of the mounted gun. The bullets stopped immediately, but Cohen was
already at his throat. The soldier sank as if he had been hit by a ton of
bricks, and his gun flew across the road. Cohen gave him one blow to the
jugular vein and another to the back of the neck: he went into spasms and began
wriggling on the ground. Cohen quickly turned his attention to the man seated
behind the gun, who was lining him up in his sights. At ten yards’ distance,
Cohen had no hope of reaching him, so he dived for the side of the car as
bullets sprayed into the open door, two of them ripping into his left leg.
Scott was now running towards the jeep from the other side. As the soldier
swung the gun round to face him, Scott propelled himself through the air and
onto the top of the jeep.

Bullets
flew everywhere as they tumbled clumsily off the back, Scott still clinging
onto his spanner. They were both quickly on their feet, and Scott brought the
spanner down across the gunner’s neck – the soldier raised an arm to fend off
the blow, but Scott’s left knee jack-knifed into his crotch. The gunner sank to
the ground as the second blow from the spanner found its mark and broke the
soldier’s neck cleanly. He lay splayed out on the road, looking like a
breast-stroke swimmer halfway through a stroke. Scott stood over him,
mesmerised, until Aziz dived at his legs and knocked him to the ground. Scott
couldn’t stop shaking.

‘It’s
always hardest the first time,’ was the Kurd’s only comment.

The
four of them were now facing outwards, covering every angle as they waited for
the locals to react. Cohen climbed unsteadily up into the jeep, blood pouring
from his leg, and took his place behind the mounted gun. ‘Don’t fire unless I
say so,’ shouted Scott as he checked up and down the road. There wasn’t a
person to be seen in either direction.

‘On
your left!’ said Hannah, and Scott turned to see an old man dressed in a long white
dishdash with a black-and-white spotted keffiyeh on his head, a thick belt hung
loosely around his waist. He was walking slowly towards them, his hands held
high in the air.

Scott’s
eyes never left the old man, who came to a halt a few yards away from the
Cadillac.

‘I
have been sent by the village elders because I am the only one who speaks
English,’ he said. The man was trembling and the words came stumbling out. ‘We
believe you are the terrorists who came to kill Saddam.’

Scott
said nothing.

‘Please
go. Leave our village and go quickly. Take the jeep and we will bury the
soldiers. Then no one will ever know you were here. If you do not, Saddam will
murder us all. Every one of us.’

‘Tell
your people we wish them no harm,’ said Scott.

‘I
believe you,’ said the old man, ‘but please, go.’

Scott
ran forward and stripped the tallest soldier of his uniform while Cohen kept
his gun trained on the old man. Aziz stripped the other three while Hannah
grabbed Scott’s bag from the Cadillac before jumping into the back of the jeep.

Aziz
threw the uniforms into the jeep and then leaped into the driving seat. The
engine was still running. He put the vehicle into reverse and swung round in a
semicircle as Scott took his place in the front. Aziz began to drive slowly out
of Tuz Khurmatoo. Cohen turned the gun round in the direction of the village,
at the same time thumping his left leg with his clenched fist.

Scott
continued to look behind him as a few of the villagers moved tentatively out
into the road and started to drag the soldiers unceremoniously away. Another
climbed into the Cadillac and began to reverse it down a side road. A few
moments later they had all disappeared from sight. Scott turned to face the
road ahead of him.

‘It’s
about another three miles to the highway,’ said Aziz. ‘What do you want me to
do?’

‘We’ve
only got one chance of getting across that border,’ said Scott, ‘so for now
pull over into that clump of trees. We can’t risk going out onto the highway
until it’s pitch dark.’ He checked the time. It was 7.35.

Hannah
felt blood dripping onto her face. She looked up, and saw the deep wounds in
Cohen’s leg. She immediately tore off the corner of her yashmak and tried to
stem the flow of blood.

‘You
all right, Cohen?’ asked Scott anxiously.

‘No
worse than when I was bitten by a woman in Tangier,’ he replied.

Aziz
began laughing.

‘How
can you laugh?’ said Hannah, continuing to clean the wound.

‘Because
he was the reason she bit me,’ said Cohen.

After
Hannah had completed the bandaging, the four of them changed into the Iraqi
uniforms. For an hour they kept their eyes on the road, looking for any sign of
more soldiers. A few villagers on donkeys, and more on foot, passed them in
both directions, but the only vehicle they saw was an old tractor that chugged
by on its way back to the village at the end of a day’s service.

As
the minutes slipped by, it became obvious that the villagers had kept to their
promise and made no contact with any army patrols.