Little Masoud rushed through the last few meters of the iron bridge, and Adnan reached out to pull him across.
The other person was relatively young.
Little Masoud recognized him as Adnan's cousin.
He immediately closed the rooftop door and jammed the door handle with an iron rod.
"How did you..."
Little Masoud asked breathlessly.
"The whole city knows about the coup, many people have been arrested, and my old friend in the Security Bureau told me their people are searching everywhere for you."
Adnan spoke quickly while inspecting his wounds.
"I heard you were around here, so I came to check. When I saw the drones and the pursuit team, I guessed it might be you. Follow me, we need to leave here immediately."
They ran down through the internal security passage of the commercial building.
This was an old four-story building, with a textile shop that had already closed on the first floor.
Adnan led him out through the back door, where an unmarked gray van was waiting in the alley.
Little Masoud climbed into the van, Adnan started the engine, and the van slowly drove out of the alley and merged into the traffic on Main Street.
"Where to?"
Little Masoud asked while using the first aid kit Adnan handed him to treat the wound on his leg.
"I have a safe house in the old town, Rashid's people don't know about it."
Adnan glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
"But you need to contact your people, young master. The Security Bureau is searching the entire city. They're checking all the properties, vehicles, and businesses related to the Masoud family. You need a place that's completely off the list."
Little Masoud leaned against the wall of the van and closed his eyes to think.
Adnan was right.
He indeed had his own influence in Elbil.
And it wasn't official, but rather those private networks established during the thirty years his father was in power.
Merchants, tribal elders, veterans, and even figures in the gray areas.
They may not all be loyal to the Masoud family, but most owed favors or shared common interests.
He thought of Fatima.
Fatima Haraf, fifty-two years old, an elder of the Socialist Party and the founder of the Elbil Women's Union.
She wasn't part of the Masoud family and had even publicly criticized some of Old Masoud's policies multiple times.
But she didn't like Barzani.
Fatima had a girls' school in the south of the city, which was nominally a vocational training center but was actually a secret meeting point for the Socialist Party.
There was a basement, an independent electricity and water supply system, and most importantly, the Security Bureau would never search a girls' school as it would violate the most sensitive religious and traditional taboos of Kurd society.
"Go to Bazaar Street," Little Masoud opened his eyes, "the Women's Vocational Technical School."
Adnan raised an eyebrow: "Ms. Fatima? Are you sure she's willing to take this risk?"
"She will." Little Masoud's voice was very calm.
The van traversed the streets at dusk.
Little Masoud watched the cityscape flash past the window.
Dusk had fallen, and people rushed by on their way home, while vendors hawked baked goods and tea on the street corners.
Everything seemed normal, as if this afternoon's gunfire, coup, and pursuit were events occurring in another parallel world.
But he knew it wasn't.
His father still lay in an ambulance bound for Baghdad, his fate unknown, loyal subordinates were being purged, and the city was about to fall into the hands of Rashid and his supporters.
Duke was right.
Death is the easiest choice; living requires real courage.
He took out a satellite phone from his backpack, turned it on for thirty seconds, saw the "signal received" prompt on the screen, then turned it off again.
Song Heping was on his way.
His father was still holding on.
And he, he must survive until dawn breaks.
The van turned into a narrow alley and stopped in front of an inconspicuous iron door.
A sign on the door read — Elbil Women's Vocational Technical School.
Little Masoud pushed open the car door and walked toward the iron door.
The game was far from over.
The counterattack hadn't even begun.