Escape from Baghdad! Read Online Free Page B

before the end,” Amal said. “And rid us of our enemy.”
    â€œWho is this Lion of Akkad?”
    â€œNo one knows. Six months ago he just appeared in the night,” Amal said. “There were random murders, thefts. Some say he works for the Jaish Al Mahdi, here to settle scores and collect debts.”
    â€œThe Mahdi Army does not collect rent.”
    â€œWe know,” Amal shrugged. “What can we do? Some say that he has a brother in the JAM. Whatever the truth, we asked them for help and received none.”
    â€œThe police?” Dagr said. Even to him that sounded dubious. No one in Iraq went to the police. That was like asking to be extorted.
    Amal snorted. “This man is a killer. He strikes suddenly, in the darkness, knocking on your door, holding a knife to your throat, a gun to your head. No one knows where he eats or sleeps or anything. In the day, poof! He is gone, like a ghost.”
    â€œHe comes only at night?” Kinza, woken up now, joined them with a faint stir of interest.
    â€œMostly after the evening patrols,” Amal said.
    â€œHow often?” Kinza asked. “Once a week?”
    â€œSometimes more or less,” Amal shrugged. “There is no pattern. In the beginning, some of us tried to ambush him. He took a bulletin the chest and kept on walking. Two days later, he cut a little girl’s throat. Last week, he threw my neighbor down the stairs. Broke his legs for no reason. We don’t even know what he wants. I think he’s one of those American serial killers like they have on TV.”
    â€œExcellent tactics,” Dagr said. “Terror in the night. Random violence. Swift, excessive retribution. Sort of thing the Spartans used to do to the Helots to keep them in line.”
    â€œYou said you shot him?” Kinza asked. “Did he bleed?”
    â€œIt was dark,” Amal said. “We couldn’t see. He kind of stumbled but then kept on coming. We scattered.”
    â€œKevlar,” Kinza said. “Our boy has body armor. Does he use a gun?”
    â€œHe carries a revolver,” Amal said. “But he prefers to use his knife. It’s the size of my arm, almost like a sword. And his fists. He has the strength of ten men.”
    â€œTen Shi’as or ten Americans?” Kinza asked, straight faced.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œJust saying,” he said. “It might make a difference. Americans are very strong.”
    â€œKnives are psychologically more frightening than bullets,” Dagr said.
    â€œHe wants to stay silent,” Kinza said. “He’s using the darkness and the fear of these people, the sudden violence, to keep them off balance.”
    â€œNo one knows what he looks like?” Dagr asked.
    â€œHe wears a hood,” Amal said. “And he’s fast, silent. One minute you’re sleeping peacefully in your bed and the next you’re on the floor with a knife in your eye.”
    â€œOk, we’re getting a picture here,” Dagr said. “This Akkadian works alone. He’s well armed and wears Kevlar. Probably some kind of military training, too.”
    â€œYou left out super strength and super speed.”
    â€œYou mock us,” Amal said. “But you have not faced him yet.”
    â€œHe slinks around at night picking on infants and the elderly,” Dagr continued. “He wears a hood. He wants to protect his identity. This suggests that his position with the JAM is not official, at least.”
    â€œSo, professor, how do we find him?”
    â€œWe could always wait,” Dagr said. “Camp out here. He’s bound to come sooner or later.”
    â€œYeah, maybe in a month,” Kinza said. “Not a good option. Plus he will find out about us soon enough. I’m guessing he lives somewhere in this neighborhood.”
    â€œThen?” Amal asked.
    â€œHe hunts at night,” Kinza said. “So must we. We’ll take to the