The Vengeance Man Read Online Free Page A

the burning wreck, where a huddle of Kurds tried to give primitive first aid to writhing bodies.  Other lumps lay ominously still.  One of the helpers stood up and stared at us, shocked, his bare arms smeared with gore.
    "Ayee", said one of my pair.  Mentally, I agreed; it was a very bad scene.  I slowed to a halt alongside Jamal.  He stared at me blankly.
    "OK Jamal?"  He reacted slowly, stunned by the ferocity of it all.  He shook his head from side to side.
    "No, English: but where is the other helicopter?"  He waved at the mountains to the North.
    "It flew on. Ahead."  I shrugged.  The Iranian tactics were obvious: set out a stop group somewhere ahead to prevent us escaping and then pound us to hell while they brought up a mobile reaction force by helicopter to capture as many as they could. I'd have done just the same.  We were in trouble.
    There was a solid " bump !"  and a shower of sparks as something exploded in the burning truck.  Jamal came to an abrupt decision.
    "You must go on, English. Round up my chickens and lead them through to B'ir Hadi. I will follow."
    This was lunacy, and we both knew it. "Don't be a fool, Jamal. Come on; leave this and let's go."
    For a moment I thought he wouldn't, then he nodded and began to order his men around. Still together, we drove north west towards the Jebel.
    "Ra'aid? Seedee.." called Nusret from behind me. "Where is the helicopter? Surely its fuel cannot last for ever?"
    "It's probably sitting on the ground," I shouted over my shoulder. "They may want to move their people around." Another thought struck me. "If they can do that, it means that they've probably got at least one other helicopter to bring their reaction force north."
    "Ayee " chorused the pair of them.
    "Ayee, indeed," I echoed, and they laughed.
    When we got to the entrance to the mountains, I heaved a sigh of relief. At least we couldn't be so easily attacked from the air, now.   On the open plain we had been like flies crawling across a table cloth. Here the deep valleys and mountains offered lots of places to hide. At the first bend, Jamal's motley collection of vehicles were stopped nose to tail. Their dishevelled air was belied by alert sentries. Jamal took command for a quick council of war.
    Looking back I can picture that scene as if it was yesterday. After the tension and fear of our flight across the desert, it had an almost euphoric air to it, despite the grimness of our situation. Jamal's vehicle commanders listened attentively while he outlined the options, then gravely heard their views. People talk about  the noble Arab, but frankly, I've never seen it myself; just dirt and deceit. Even with the Kurds, who are different again.  But I suppose that there, in the blue shade of the ravine bottom, with its reddish walls rising sheer for hundreds of feet and the glare of the sun cut off, Jamal stood out like the warrior leader he was.  Looking at him, you could understand how Saladin had carved up the crusaders all those years ago.  Jamal's hawk-like nose and dark beard made him appear dignified and imperious, and his planning was clear and professional. Even I found myself nodding at his tactics as we all kicked the options around. At the end, he addressed us. His studied theatricality seemed right in that situation and inspired confidence.
    "Lastly, my children, I alone am to blame for this. I took time for the vendetta, and that time allowed the lovers of evil to smite us. Nevertheless,"  and his eyes flashed in the shadow of his loose turban, "Nevertheless, I took my vengeance as a matter of family honour."   The commanders murmured approvingly. Ra’ashid , his favourite, a blonde Aryan, spoke up.
    "There is none here who would not have done the same,  Jamal al Faud." He stared at me, daring me to dissent.   I stared back, then slowly nodded.    By the standards of the Kurds, Jamal had done right. The group murmured approvingly again, and Jamal inclined his head in