Chapter Three

Ali woke slowly the next morning. He turned on his side to notice that Mahmoud had risen, as was his habit. He slowly sat up and stretched.

Light became more evident as Mahmoud opened the tent's flap, allowing he morning's rays to flow in with a vengeance. Ali blinked twice and finally focused.

"Up," was all that his brother said as he turned to move hurriedly around the campsite.

Ali followed him out of the tent. "The dew hasn't even left the ground."

"It does not matter on this morning."

They scurried around the camp, picking things up and tying them into their places on the donkey that they led along. They had just finished when two men – Turks – approached them. Mahmoud motioned for Ali to busy himself with the last minute packing and he stepped forward.

"You two," the first Turk said. "We are looking for someone."

"I am afraid that I know few people in this region," Mahmoud answered.

"You appear in a hurry to leave."

"We are travelers. We are always in a hurry to be on our way."

The Turk frowned at this. "We are looking to a traitor to our government."

Mahmoud paused, giving the man an even look that betrayed no emotion. "I know of none."

"We have no name for this man," he paused, "yet. We will soon. If you see him, tell him to beware, won't you? He won't stand up us long. His British government he has sold us out to will not win if they come against us."

"Of course not," Mahmoud answered.

"My companion says he's seen you in this town before."

"I make regular rounds."

"But the young man that travels with you was never with you before."

Mahmoud stared at him for a moment, waiting for any further comment. The Turkish soldier became agitated when he received no answer. He turned in a slight huff and walked back towards the town, leaving the Hazr brothers alone.

Ali approached quietly. "Mahmoud?"

"Quiet. Everything has ears to hear," he said in a low voice. "Come, we must leave."

They traveled all day, but never in a strait line. By the time that the day was winding down, they had not gone far from the town they had left earlier that morning. Ali sighed as he squatted down in the sand and started piling sticks together for a fire. Mahmoud knelt next to him.

"I suppose you'll tell me why we didn't go far?" Ali asked hopefully.

"We will be going back in the night."

The younger man gave the elder a questioning look. "Why would we do that?"

Mahmoud looked about them, as he had been doing he entire day. The land lay out flat around them with nowhere for a soul to hide unless he buried himself beneath the sand, which he thought highly unlikely. "You did not hear what they said this morning?"

"Bits and pieces."

"Ah. They are becoming suspicious of me."

Mahmoud was sure he saw a spark of excitement in Ali's eyes. "And we are to take care of that?"

"We are to question them to see what they know. We may have to dispose of them. You will be able to go through with it?"

Ali nodded, the gleam staying in his eyes. "I've been raised in England, but that doesn't mean I can't kill someone."

"Good," Mahmoud answered as he pulled a small, wrapped object out of the packs. "Take this."

Ali reached out to take the package and unwrapped it without a word. When the cloth fell away it revealed a long, beautiful dagger. His eyes grew wide and he ran his hand over it. "Beautiful," he murmured.

"Good. Let us go."

The two Turkish soldiers that had come up to Mahmoud were staying in a small (by English standards, but by no means small by the town's standards) house in the town they had left that morning. When the Hazr brothers approached it, it was completely dark, the two men either gone or asleep. They prayed it would be the latter.

Mahmoud worked his way into the house as silent as could be, easing himself equally as quiet down the passage from the main room to a small room at the end. The other room was directly across form it. They made sure one of the soldiers – the one that had stayed so silent behind that morning – was good and out with a dose of chloroform before they entered the second room.

Ali had his hand over the second soldier's mouth before he had time to holler out, not that it would have done him any good. Mahmoud was over him from the other side of the bed. "It would be wise to be silent," he said from behind his robes and headdress that did well to cover his face. "It would also be wise to tell us what you know of your traitor that you spoke of this morning to the man who wanders."

The Turk struggled and Ali flashed his new knife from its holder and to the man's throat. "Listen to my brother," he growled.

"I know nothing," the Turk managed once the hand was removed. His voice was high and frightened next to the low voices of the intruders. "I know nothing other than he gives information to the British and has many men in Palestine that help him. I know nothing of his name or his face. In all honesty, I swear it upon everything!"

"And we believe that?" Ali hissed as the knife drew the slightest amount of blood. He had to hold it back to keep the squirming man from splitting open his own throat on the blade. He did little good to them dead.

"I swear it!" he yelled, too loud for either of the brothers' liking.

"What is all this?" a new voice demanded from the doorway.

Ali and Mahmoud whirled around to see a third man standing there, eyes blazing with fury.

"I thought you said there were only two," Ali said quietly.

"I was mistaken."

BlackMoon13: Thanks very much. Did you mean the Holmes Family story? I went back and finished that today :)