Themselves now merely nominally the supreme leader of Kurdistan, in reality just a prisoner meticulously plotted against by his own nephew.
In that suffocating moment when his heart almost stopped, Rashid's voice suddenly came through the encrypted walkie-talkie on the car console:
"General, the convoy is three kilometers away from the designated 'reception point.' All 'guests' are in position and in good shape, eagerly awaiting your final instructions."
Barzani reached out and grabbed the walkie-talkie.
He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as if a diver making the final preparation before diving into the deep sea.
Then, with a calmness that was almost eerie, he said:
"Proceed."
At the moment those words fell, time seemed to be cut into two segments.
In the back, in the two Mercedes G-Class SUVs that followed closely, the atmosphere changed sharply!
The "soldiers" sitting next to Masood's loyal guards erupted almost simultaneously!
They were clearly prepared, their actions swift and vicious.
At extremely close range, they suddenly drew hidden pistols or compact submachine guns that were already loaded, aimed at the genuine guards beside them who hadn't had time to react, their faces still showing some confusion, and pulled the trigger!
"Puff puff puff puff——!"
The sound of the pistols fitted with silencers was dull and dense, echoing within the enclosed cabin, largely absorbed by the good soundproofing materials, barely audible outside.
Flashes of light briefly appeared behind the car's dark tinted windows, illuminating the astonished faces of those guards.
Some guards tried to draw their guns and resist in the final moment, but their actions stopped abruptly halfway; some made brief muffled grunts; many didn't even have time to react before falling under the barrel of betrayal.
Bulletproof windows can withstand bullets from a distance but cannot protect against murder from within.
In just a matter of seconds, the slight struggle and noise inside the other two vehicles subsided, leaving only the sound of bodies sliding down and a heavy, pervasive scent of blood.
The convoy did not pause for even a moment, maintaining its speed and formation, continuing toward the execution site called "Vulture Canyon" three kilometers away.
The plan was clear: upon reaching the canyon, a temporary parking check or rest would be staged.
At that time, Masood would be held in the middle vehicle, and the two SUVs filled with corpses would, together with Masood's car, become excellent targets for the "short-haul" anti-tank missiles ambushed in the distance.
An on-site "vile ambush assassination" by the Abu You Brigade Rebel Army would be perfectly presented.
Inside the middle Mercedes car, Masood tightly closed his eyes.
He did not plead, did not curse, and did not even glance at Barzani again.
He just leaned powerlessly against the back of the seat, his lips moving silently, reciting an ancient prayer passed down from his ancestors in Kurdish.
Amid the hasty whispered words, the deepest curse for this insane world devoid of familial love was also interspersed.
Barzani turned his face, casting a complex gaze at his uncle beside him.
The morning light struggled through the thick fog and blood-stained bulletproof windows, casting dappled shadows on the face marked with the ravages of time.
He looked at those tightly shut eyelids, at Masood's slightly trembling lips and wrinkled cheeks, a sudden and inexplicable pang of compassion rising from the depths of his heart.
But he forcibly suppressed that emerging thought.
The bow has been drawn, there is no turning back.
Kindness does not command troops!
Mercy is the most useless dross in the world of men's political games!
Since he uttered the words "proceed," since he tacitly agreed to Rashid using Jalal's family as a bargaining chip of coercion, since he convened confidants to conspire every detail of the coup in a safe house...
No, perhaps even earlier.
From the first time he felt impatience and disdain for his uncle's mild policies, from the first time he stood outside the office of the chairman, imagining himself sitting in that large chair...
The road in both their fates leading to the cliff had long been paved.
After the unrest, the convoy returned to silence, like a funeral procession, unwaveringly heading toward the shadow of death with its gaping maw in the hilly region ahead.
What awaited ahead was the climax of the plan.