5 a.m.
Masood's office is located on the top floor of the Autonomous Region Government Building, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire center of Erbil City.
The seventy-year-old man was standing in front of the window at this moment, his back to the door, rubbing a string of amber prayer beads in his hand, each bead polished to a warm, translucent shine.
The office door was pushed open roughly, and Barzani strode in, his military boots clanging on the marble floor.
He didn't knock.
This in itself was a demonstration.
"Chairman, I was already on the front line, why is someone sent to forcibly summon me back at this time?!"
General Barzani's voice was laced with anger but was more filled with disdain.
He was in full combat uniform, with a gun at his waist, as if he had just returned from the front lines, not from the military command.
