The Exchange — Kandovan We gathered in the lee of the rock wall, wind scraping frost across our boots. Sandi stood at the center, pale but steady, flanked by Tarmo and Mitra. The captors held back, watching. Every rifle lowered but not forgotten. I hung back with Asdar, my hand unconsciously pressed to my belly…
Tag: politics
The COMCO Files Book V chapter 39
Ardabil Road — Mitra & Karim The codes sit at the base of Karim’s pack, wrapped in leather that feels older than it should. We haven’t spoken for half an hour, mountain air cutting thin, the silence thick with certainty of pursuit. Karim finally breaks it. “Whoever that was in the alley—they had Turkish military…
The COMC Files Book V chapter 38
Convergence [23:47 — Kandovan Road] The headlights shear white arcs through black mountain road, slicing sudden shadows past ancient cliffs. Cold Sahand wind claws at every curve. Out here, the world contracts: asphalt, rock faces splashed by pale moonlight, stone villages perched in their honeycomb solitude. Kandovan will be sleeping when we arrive—its cave homes…
The COMC Files Book V chapter 37
The trail curves and doubles back, vanishing more than once. In Ardabil, that means we’re close. Karim leads, every move practiced—border secrets are old currency for him. I keep pace, counting every shadow, every half-open door, stitching details into memory. The hideout isn’t accidental. Down an unlabeled side street, three turns past alleys slick with…
The COMC Files Book V chapter 36
The Dark Wagon The horses carry us long enough that Tehran fades into a dusty shimmer. I sit tall in the saddle, wind pushing hair across my mouth, laughing at Asdar’s teasing shout, the nomads’ voices rough and bright in the cold morning. We stop at the rail siding, where steel lines cut east across…
The COMC Files Book V chapter 35
Wrong Street, Wrong Men The city is loud in the way only a place under watch can be—traffic snared into queues, market calls strangled to half-volume. I read it the way I read a balance sheet: numbers off, pressure lines exposed. Too many stalls closing early for bad weather. Shutters fall with the quiet finality…
The COMC Files Book V chapter 31
Embers, Rumours, and Rescue Plans The fire pops, laughter fills the air, and Asdar leans in, finally ready to stitch together the threads — Romani hospitality, protection, their centuries-old role as keepers of stories and music, and the deal he cut to trade stigma for safe passage. For once, I’m content to listen — blond…
The COMC Files Book V chapter 30
“ENOUGH!”* My breath stops. That grunt—familiar. The blindfold is torn off in one motion. Light stabs my eyes. I blink, heart hammering, searching the crowd for the shape behind the voice. For a beat, no one moves—Romani faces flickering between suspicion and relief, Azerbaijani bystanders holding back. Somewhere in the tangle, I know the wolf…
The COMC Files Book V chapter 28
Crimson Traces The station air hums with departures. Brakes exhale, announcements crackle overhead, and somewhere behind me a child cries once before being shushed into silence. The high-speed train to Ankara waits with its nose angled east, silver and intent. Inside, the sound changes—padded by upholstery, softened by recycled warmth. Our bags thud into overhead…
The COMC Files Book V chapter 22
Tehran – Hana Boutique Hotel Real destination next. Mikael’s text is succinct: shaman in Maranjab. Not caravanserai—but past salt lake, dunes eating horizon under star-vault. Tarmo: linen shirt, loose trousers, scarred boots. Downstairs, the Land Cruiser idled, Mikael door-side. Lean man: battered leather jacket, scarf, night-chill doubled. “Reza,” Mikael said. “Ja’far’s pick. Knows desert beyond…
The C.O.M.C. Files 