“Aram doesn’t want you to stay with me,” Hud said.
She didn’t answer.
“I agree with him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You speak only English. You need me beside you.”
“Are you ready to go to prison with me?”
“We will not go to prison. We will run.”
“You’ll get in the way, and slow me down.”
“Was I slow on the mountain?”
“You’re not trained for survival situations.”
“And you have no language skills.”
He let it go. They were on a quiet road about a mile from a cluster of buildings and a bridge that marked the border crossing. Speaking English wasn’t a great idea. The area could be under video surveillance. He didn’t know what kind of technology the Iranians used at their borders, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
Glancing around, he didn’t get the sense of a well-guarded fortress. Open borders weren’t that common, and they tended to be in remote locations with minimal security. Although Hud would feel uneasy anywhere in Iran, this place seemed pretty mellow. A truck driver passed by with a cheery wave. Maybe everything would be okay.
He was overdue for a break. He’d had a string of bad luck, starting with his bitter divorce. Then Hasan’s death in Al-Hasakah, followed by the bomb in Telskuf, Hud’s stint in captivity and this entire messed-up journey. Layah had experienced more than her share of hardship, as well. They were in for some good days.
The mood was positive among the group. Aram ruffled Ashur’s hair and put his arm around Yusef. Oshana linked hands with Nina, smiling with excitement. Layah looked nervous, but hopeful. They were almost home. Almost free.
Hud studied their surroundings as they moved forward. There were checkpoint stations on both sides of the bridge. Iranian officials were on the left, Armenians on the right. Vehicles were driving through without stopping. Hud didn’t see any other pedestrians, which wasn’t a surprise. Hikers wouldn’t be crossing here often. On the other hand, it was a mountainous area, well suited for climbing. Backpackers probably passed through on occasion. They prided themselves on visiting the most far-out locations.
Hud spotted an Armenian customs official sitting in a booth on the opposite end of the bridge. Two border guards in battle fatigues were monitoring activity on the Iranian side. They were armed with batons and nothing else. Hud evaluated both men as low-level threats, but he braced himself for action anyway. The Iranian guards noticed the group and began their approach immediately.
Although border and customs officials were supposed to focus on who was entering the country, rather than who was leaving it, Hud wasn’t surprised by the attention. He expected an exchange of some sort. The guards might ask them for passports, information or an itinerary. They might ask for money.
Layah took the lead, saying hello in a language he assumed was Farsi. She repeated the greeting in Arabic and offered a bright smile. They stared at her the way all men did, tongue-tied and agog.
So far, so good.
She pointed to the bridge. They nodded agreeably. She bowed her head in thanks and they continued forward. One by one, they walked by the Iranians. Hud went last. He put his hand on his chest in a show of respect. The first guard said something about him to the second, and Layah’s smile faltered.
Hud knew better than to pause or act guilty. He walked on as if he had no worries. The second man drew his baton and held it like a crossbar to halt Hud’s progress. Hud considered breaking his arm, stealing the baton and taking out his partner. All of this could be accomplished in two or three seconds.
Layah gave him a warning look. She wanted to handle the guards her way, with words and fluttering eyelashes. She motioned for the others to go ahead while she brandished her passports and some bribe money. Hud shrugged out of his backpack, moving his gaze from the baton to the bridge. The Armenian official didn’t even come out of the booth. Aram held Ashur’s elbow in a firm grip as they crossed. When the boy glanced over his shoulder at them, Hud’s throat tightened. Ashur tried to break free, but Aram wouldn’t let go.
Hud returned his attention to Layah. She was doing her best to charm the Iranians, who had become impervious. The man with the baton had a flat stare. Hud’s gut clenched as he realized they were stalling.
This wasn’t a routine shakedown. It wasn’t general questioning. They’d been stopped for a specific reason.
An armed guard emerged from the checkpoint station, shouting orders. Now Hud had three men to fight, and this new one was a real contender. Six feet tall and solidly built. Layah rushed toward him, displaying her passports. He didn’t even look at them. When she grabbed his arm, he shoved her away in annoyance. She stumbled backward and fell down in a dramatic sprawl. Then she used the opportunity to swing her legs at the armed guard. She connected with his ankle and caused him to stagger.
Hud couldn’t believe she would dare to grab his arm, let alone kick him. What a woman. She was completely fearless. And he was totally in love with her.
He didn’t have any time to process this epiphany. She’d given him a split-second opening, and he was taking it. His hand locked around the baton and twisted. The guard’s arm bent into an awkward angle and the bone snapped. He let go with a muffled cry. Hud didn’t even need to hit him again. He thwacked the man’s partner across the temple, knocking him out. Hud advanced toward the third target while the second crumpled to the dirt.
The armed guard wasn’t stupid or slow. He drew his weapon and squeezed the trigger as Hud launched his attack. The baton connected with the man’s elbow, and not a second too
