YASHIM felt the hairs prickling on the back of his neck as he picked his way among the soldiers waiting patiently on the ground. At any minute he expected to be challenged again, delayed again. A shout was all it would take.
There it came. One shout, and another. He saw the men around him turn their heads.
But they weren’t looking at him.
Another shout: “Fire!”
Yashim swiveled, following the men’s gaze. Over their heads, beyond the silhouette of the great mosque, the sky had lightened like an early dawn. A dawn rising in the west. A dawn rising upwind of the city of Istanbul. As he watched, he saw the light go yellow and flicker.
For a few seconds he stood transfixed.
Around him the men strained uneasily, taking up their rifles, awaiting the order to rise.
Yashim broke into a run.