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Still tied, Falah was led down a flight of stairs to what was clearly the group's command center. The finished quality of the room surprised him. These people were not expecting to be driven out. He wondered if this were where the Kurds hoped to make the heart of a new nation. Not in the eastern part of Turkey, where their nation had been located centuries before, but in the west. Down through Syria and Lebanon with access to the Mediterranean.

There was a man seated at the desk reading documents. Another man was sitting behind him. He was squatting on a low stool, listening to a radio, and taking notes by hand. The man who had led Falah here saluted. The man at the desk returned his salute, then ignored Falah as he continued studying what looked like radio transcripts. After what seemed like two or three minutes, the man at the desk picked up Falah's passport. He opened it, studied it for a moment, then put it aside. He looked at the prisoner. A jagged red scar ran from the bridge of his nose to the center of his right cheek. His eyes were deathly pale.

"Isayid Aram Tunas," said Commander Siriner. "Mr. Aram Tunas."

"Aywa, akooya," Falah replied. "Yes, my brother."

"Am I your brother?" Siriner asked.

"Aywa," Falah answered. "We are both Kurds. "We are both freedom fighters."

"Then that is why you came here," Siriner said. "To fight alongside us?"

"Aywa," Falah replied. "I heard about the Ataturk Dam. There were rumors that the men behind it had come to a camp in the Bekaa. I thought I might seek them out and join their group."

"I'm honored." Siriner picked up Falah's gun. "Where did you get this?"

"It is mine, sir," Falah said proudly.

"For how long has it been yours?"

"I bought it on the black market in Semdinli two years ago," Falah replied. That was partly true. The weapon had been purchased on the black market two years before, though Faah hadn't been the one who bought it.

Siriner put the gun back down. The radio operator put fresh transcriptions on Siriner's desk. The commander continued to look at Falah. "We detected someone in the foothills with a radio set," the commander said. "Did you happen to hear or see anyone?"

"I saw no one, sir."

"Why were you running?"

"I, sir?" said Falah. "I wasn't running. I was at rest when your men surrounded me."

"You were perspiring."

"Because it was very hot," Falah said. "I prefer to travel when it's cool. Stupidly, I did not realize I was so near to my goal."

Siriner regarded the captive. "So you wish to fight with us, Aram."

"I do, sir. Very much."

The commander glanced at the soldier standing beside Falah. "Cut him loose, Abdolah," he said.

The soldier did as he was told. As soon as his head was free, Falah rolled it around. When his hands were loose, he flexed his fingers. Siriner pointed to Falah's gun. "Take it," he said.

"Thank you," Falah said.

"I have a great deal to do here," Siriner said. "If you serve under me, you will be required to follow orders without hesitation or question."

"I understand," said Falah.

"Tayib," Siriner said. "Fine. Abdolah, take him to the prisoners."

"Yes, sir!" the soldier said.

"Two of them are American soldiers, Aram," the commander said. "One man, one woman. I would like you to shoot them in the back of the head with your pistol. When you are finished, I'll have instructions as to the disposal of the bodies. Are there any questions?"

"None, sir," Falah said. He looked at the pistol. Suddenly, he raised it. He aimed at the commander's head, and fired. The hammer clicked on an empty chamber.

Siriner smiled. Falah felt a gun barrel pressed to the back of his neck.

"We watched you from the American van," Siriner said. "It has a variety of electronic devices for watching one's enemies. We saw you run. We knew you were spying on us."

Falah swore to himself. He'd seen the van there, the one the Americans were anxious to get back. He should have remembered it was operational. Those were the kinds of mistakes which