In the house of Tikrit II

It was Holden thought akin to a scene out of a movie, as they stepped through the gateway two dozen assorted firearms were cocked and pointed in their direction. Scattered around what had had one time been the loading bay for the factory small groups of armed men about their morning chores, were now paying a great deal of interest in what Holden and the German did next.

Holden felt the sweat drip down the back of his neck and wondered if the German’s bulk would protect him from injury if he retreated back through the door. Before he could grab the Germans collar and drag him out he had stepped forward arm raised in greeting.

"Assalam-o-Alaikum, I seek Suleiman Sabawi Al-Tikriti if he is here could you tell him, his friend von Junzt is here."

Holden watched two dozen men shift restlessly rifle barrels didn't waver, the courtyard remained almost silent except for the sound of breathing. von Junzt tried again this time repeating himself in Arabic, Holden could really understand what he was saying past the names, but this time there was a result at the back of the courtyard two men conferred for a moment before disappearing through an open doorway. Most of the men returned to their chores but a number remained where they were guns while not aimed at them certainly still pointed in olden and the German's general direction.

Finally the man returned this time accompanied by a Flabbily fat man, red faced, with thick hair plastered to his head by sweat, his torso like some large soft egg, belly straining against the buttons of a pair of well worn combat trousers, the man reached into the pocket of a black leather waistcoat worn over a white cotton shirt both a size to small stretched to breaking over a spreading belly, thick pudgy fingers came out grasping a hand rolled cigarette which he stuck into his mouth. As he looked up at von Junzt and Holden he smiled.

"I know his type" thought Holden "the jolly fat man all benevolence, good humour and bonhomie on the outside twisted fuck on the inside". Holden looked at the mans eyes they were dark, made small by the puffiness of his face, they were the only part of his face which wasn't smiling.
von Junzt stepped forward hand outstretched.

"Assalam-o-Alaikum, Suleiman, old friend how are you"

Holden noted Suleiman took the time to draw deeply on the cigarette before taking von Junzt's in his own bloated hand allowing it to wave in the air for a few moments. Then he laughs.

"Welcome, welcome my friend, welcome to my humble abode, not quite my old home, I'm sure you'll agree, but the company is good."

Suleiman laughs and some of the assembled men closest to him join in, but then he stops laughing abruptly, he looks at Holden as though noticing him for the first time.

"I must have words with my nephew, I am sure I instructed him to tell you to come alone, yet my men tell me you are here with enough men to start a small war, I would be very upset if I thought it was because you did not trust me."

Holden notes for the first time von Junzt looks a bit unsure of himself. Holden wonders whether the German has over estimated his reception, he watches as von Junzt makes some excuses about the state of lawlessness caused by the presence of the Americans and how Saddam would never had allowed things to get so bad.

Suleiman waves a hand.

"The matter is forgotten, let us go inside and we will talk about the tablet over some tea"

He points his cigarette at Holden.

"But this one will stay outside"

Holden, made to protest but again found himself staring down the barrel several as men moved to block his path. von Junzt turned.

“Its OK Holden, I am among friends here. There is no need for you to worry about my safety, wait outside with the cars I will return shortly.”

Holden didn’t waste time arguing, just as he’d done at the museum the day before von Junzt didn't wait for a response but had simply turned his back and disappeared inside the building after Suleiman. Holden reached behind him for the door, making sure he didn't take his eyes of the occupants of the loading bay, with much searching he found the open door and pulling it open stepped through.

Outside he had to explain to the others what was going on, the teams response to this was universally negative and very vocal. von Junzt’s attitude had already made him unpopular with the rest of the team and his decision to leave the team while they stood around it what was one of Iraq's most hostile towns did nothing to improve their general feelings towards the man.

The team stood under an increasingly hot sun watching for activity among the growing number of local people on the streets. Fingers remained if not on triggers then very close, no one paced about and talk was limited to brief updates as each member of the team informed the others about what changed about the things they could see, as one they all fought boredom.

Holden watched the locals, they showed some interest in the team, a brave few waved but the majority of the adults turned their back on the team when they realise they were being watched, they weren’t particularly aggressive towards the team, some kids even ran up to them demanding sweets. Most simply seemed sullen which didn’t surprise Holden considering how much of their town lay in rubble. "Its a tough environment" he thought "they have little to be happy about."

An hour later Jock Grant reports a mixed patrol of US marines and police crossing a junction further up the road, several of them stopped and observed the team then moved on, fifteen minutes later they all heard the crackle and pop of gunfire, they listen to it following the progress of the ambush by the tempo of the gunfire and explosions. They all wonder wether they are going to get caught up in the Americans fire fight but eventually it quietens down.

After two hours Holden was just starting to wonder if he should go back through the gates and find von Junzt, then all of the sudden the man appeared, he said nothing as he went to the car withdrew his Samsonite briefcase from the car and started walking back to the compound. Holden rushed up, he wanted to tell von Junzt they were putting themselves at considerable and as far as he could see unnecessary risk, but he was to slow off the mark von Junzt was already back through the gate before Holden could reach him. Holden was standing outside the gate swearing to himself when the gate cracked opened and von Junzt's head appeared.

"Tell everyone to get ready I'll be out in five minutes and we will need to leave immediately"

Then just as quickly he is gone, leaving a fuming Holden to inform the rest of the team they are going to move in five minutes. Von Junzt is true to his word, five minutes later he returns; without the Samsonite briefcase but with what looked to be some kind of stone tablet wrapped in an old worn tea cloth. He almost runs to the car.

"Everyone in we go we go."

Holden is unsure wether to be amused or worried by the fact he notices von Junzt's German accent shows through when he is worried. He puts the thought out of his mind as the two 4 x 4's pull out into the road and accelerate out of town.

In the house of Tikrit

The ageing 4x4 raced through a gap in the slow moving traffic, rattling along the potholed roads of Fallujah, occassionally mounting the curb or crossing the central reservation to drive down the wrong side of the road. Paddy was driving one hand either glued to the horn, or making rude gestures to the other slower drivers on the road, occassionally he practiced his limited repetoir of Arab swear words, and the heated exchanges of Arab male voices would fill the car. All in all it was not a pleasant experience, but it was one Holden had grown to live with.

Their journey had been meticulously planned the route as well as possible alternatives mapped out the whole team had been involved - every potential threat had to be taken into account, which meant phone calls had to be made and intel gatherered they needed to know which roads the military were currently designating “red routes” because they were dangerous either, because of recent IEDs (improvised explosive devices, or roadside bombs), suicide bombings (by car or on foot) or attacks by gunmen. The list of possible threats changed on a daily basis and the team needed to get the most up to date information

Getting to Falluja had been remarkably easy, Holden had half expected, half hoped to be turned away by the military long before the they got anywhere near entering the town. But at each checkpoint Herr Junzt had got out of the car and after talking discretely with whoever was in charge they had been waived through, at the dozen Iraqi police checkpoints Holden had assumed Junzt was simply dropping bribes, but he'd done the same thing with the US Marine Captain who originally adimantly refused to let them through.

Under normal circumstances the Armburst close protection teams would drive around in armoured Hyundai Tuscon 4x4's. Holden didn't like them, while the Hyundais were able to go cross country they had no speed or acceleration due to all the armour they were carrying, his personal preference would have been for a Landrover or Rangerover but Armburst simply weren't going to fork out the cash.

By far the worst thing about driving the 4x4's was the fact they screamed "hey look I'm a westerner" and as they entered the slums of southern Fallujah that morning attracting the attention of the locals was the last thing he wanted.

Now as they drove through the near empty streets, Holden wondered just who Junzt was working for, he certainly didn't seem like a typical academic, his behaviour and his retisence to talk about anything he was doing made Holden and the rest of the team wonder wether he was involved with the intelligence community, but Holden couldn't help but think of him as an overweight and slightly criminal version of Indianna Jones.

Junzt had given them general directions for where to go in Falujah, but once within the confines of the town he started to give Paddy more detailed instructions, Holden noted he did this without notes which meant he either had a really good memory for directions or he had been here before.

The directions took them into South Fallujah through neighborhoods which were uniformly horrible, The houses here were smaller than anything he'd seen and far more decrepit. nearly every houses displayed some kind of battle damage, concrete walls stood apparently at random like some kind of tombstones, garbage and rubble in equal quantities. Holden was reminded of some kind of Mexican shantytown.

An American Marine he'd got chatting to at a bar in Camp Victory had told Holden there simply wasn't any real economy left in Falujah most businesses had simply up and left when all the fighting started and never came back; unemployment here was as high as fifty percent. It was no surprise he said that during periods of heavy fighting there were more insurgents in South Falujah than elsewhere in the city, not because the inhabitants held strong ideological or political views but simply because Al Qaeda was paying cash and they needed the money to survive.

Finnally Junzt indicated for Paddy to stop outside what looked to be a small factory. The second car pulled up some distance behind them and the team climbed out each man climbing out and taking up a pre arranged position besides or near to the car which meant someone was looking in every direction. The exception was Holden who stood next to Junzt, who now pulled open one of the steel the gates into the factory.