14:20, West of the city, Karam Residential Area.
Thick blood trickled down along the pant leg, blooming into a dark flower on the gray concrete ground.
Little Masoud leaned against the cold stairwell wall, his rapid breathing echoing faintly in the empty hallway.
He glanced down at his right leg.
The cut made by broken glass wasn't deep, but it was in a tricky spot, right above the knee joint.
Every muscle twitch tore at the coagulating scab, fresh blood gushed out again, soaking through the khaki military pants, forming an ever-expanding dark stain.
The pain was sharp and persistent, but more unsettling than the physical agony was the gradually approaching footsteps.
Clip, clop, clip.
The sound of military boots striking the cement stairs was rhythmic and dense, like the ticking of a countdown clock.
At least six people, maybe eight, advancing from the third floor, searching floor by floor.
The Security Bureau's action team—Rashid's Hounds.
Twenty minutes ago, he was still in that mobile command van disguised as a delivery truck.
That unremarkable white van was equipped with Elbil's most advanced signal interception and communication monitoring equipment.
His counterintelligence team, the twelve elite members handpicked and personally trained from the Intelligence Academy, intercepted a set of encrypted communications using unusual frequency bands.
The coding pattern was unfamiliar, but the transmission frequency was extraordinarily dense, transmitting simultaneously from the Security Bureau building to three military strongholds in the suburbs.
"They're mobilizing troops."
At the time, the deputy pointed at the blinking dots on the screen, pale-faced.
"This isn't a routine redeployment, sir."
Little Masoud sensed something unusual.
Recently, rumors about Barzani and his accomplices plotting a coup had reached his ears, and he tried to warn his father, but his father thought Barzani would never do such a thing.
So, he could only organize his own forces secretly to investigate.
Now, these frequently appearing secret signals seemed to explain it all.
He quickly contacted his father, trying to relay this information to him, warning him to be cautious.
After all, his father had gone to Kirkuk with Barzani early in the morning.
If...
He didn't dare to think further.
He first called his father's personal phone, a busy signal; then the office line, no answer; finally, tried the President's Mansion switchboard, only to hear hollow electronic noise in the receiver.
He turned to contact those in the military still loyal to the Masoud family.
This included General Adif of the Army, Colonel Tariq of the Air Force base, and the Commander of the Presidential Guard...
None got through.
The signal seemed to be jammed.
"Go to the Telecommunications Bureau." He decided swiftly, "If they've controlled the communication hub, they can completely cut off our contact with the outside world."
As soon as the van had driven two blocks, three black SUVs burst from a side street, forcing them to a stop in a wedge formation.
The gunfire started almost simultaneously.
The opponents gave no warning, opening fire directly.
The moment his deputy pushed him aside, a bullet struck the deputy's chest, blood splattering all over the control panel screens.
"Split up! Regroup at the usual place!" Little Masoud roared, tumbling out from the back door, diving into an alley under the cover of teammates.
Half an hour later, his twelve-person team was in an unknown fate, and he was alone, trapped in the stairwell of the fourth floor of Block Three, Building Four of the Karam Residential Area.
Ammunition was running low.
The Glock 19 had five rounds left, and in his backpack, there was a mini Uzi and two magazines.
With these, he could stage a five-minute firefight, maybe take out three or four pursuers, but the ending was inevitable.
They would surround him from both upstairs and downstairs, ending the fight with grenades or shock bombs.
Or, drag him like a dead dog back to the Security Bureau building, handing him over for Rashid to claim credit.
He recalled Rashid's eyes that were always slightly squinted.
At a security meeting two years ago, this then-Deputy Director patted his shoulder with a smile: "Young man, your father's era will eventually pass; you need to think for yourself."
At the time, he took it as usual bureaucratic hypocrisy; in hindsight, those eyes were glimmering with premeditated murderous intent.
The footsteps had reached halfway to the third floor.
Little Masoud took a deep breath, pulled out the black satellite phone from his backpack.
It was much heavier than a regular phone, with a shell made of military-grade shockproof and waterproof material, with only one red emergency call button on the keypad.
This was a special satellite phone used for maintaining emergency contact with the US side.
He pressed the red button.
The waiting sound was a monotonous buzz, one ring, two rings...
Six rings.
Every second measured by the footsteps in the stairwell, danger closing in at the speed of two stairs per second.
"Verification." A male voice devoid of emotion, speaking with a Texas accent, said in English.
"Falcon. Repeat: Falcon."
Little Masoud replied with as steady a voice as possible.
The code name was given by the Americans, "Falcon" symbolizing the Kurdish Freedom Fighters.
Brief silence.
Faint conversations in the background, he caught a few words: "Elbil... coup... confirmed... Barzani..."
Then, Major General Duke's voice cut in.
"Little Masoud, report your situation and location."
Duke's speech was faster than usual.
"I'm trapped in the Karam Residential Area in the west of the city, not sure which building. The Security Bureau's action team is searching floor by floor, about thirty seconds away from me."
Little Masoud lowered his voice, simultaneously listening to the noises in the stairwell, "What about my father? What's happening at the President's Mansion? I can't reach anyone——"