Lion, Tiger, Bear | 249 Reading the map, Bernie thought deeply for a few minutes. They needed a sheltered rest and resupply at the very least, and his Gradiometer batteries needed recharging, the spare one for the pack radio all used up. Everyone was exhausted, even the mules he thought. One more days search, then we head north on the old Silk Road. Once in Isfahan, the soft beds and savory chickens are on me. The next morning, Nasim meandered about the small village of around seventy nomads. No one had seen or heard anything unusual in the sky. The women wore colorful and dazzling robes, and the children scurried about gathering wood for the roofs and fires. Hidden well in a thatch of Gagea flowers and chestnut trees, Bernie watched him with binoculars from a hill. He scanned to the east, and on the narrow trail he spied a column of riders descending from the higher elevations via a small pass. By the look of them, they seemed well-fed with good strong horses; all wore robes and garments that blended seamlessly with the green and brown landscape, all had rifles and ammunition pouches, a rogue rival tribe bent on revenge no doubt. This is all we need at the momenta bloodfeud, he thought. Shit. The mountain bandits dismounted and began rummaging through the village for whatever they needed, a softer target not found anywhere, thought Bernie. Goats were procured, but none of the bandits seemed willing to pay. Village elders protested them with Nasim, and a huge argument began. One of the riders drew a sword and ran through an old man. Nasim positioned himself in front of another elder to shield him. A bandit with a gold and black Keffiyeh headscarf dismounted, drew a revolver, and shot Nasim in the head, the bullet passing through into the elder behind. Two for one. Two village men began shooting back with old rifles, a dust-up. Bernie gripped his binoculars tight, the pain in his gut sharp. No! No, goddammit! Infuriated, pride insulted, the bandits began to savage, rape, and pillage at will. Everything of use was dragged out of tents and stacked rock dwellings, especially the young women, an expensive commodity soon to be sold. Whatever they didnt need was tossed aside. Two riders made a circular reconnaissance of the village. One spied Bernie and yelled at him to stand up. As they neared, Bernie held up his arms in surrender, angry