The Kurdish Woman

Luis Rousset

Description

The Kurdish Woman is a love story between two characters from very different cultures. John Davenport an American Army Special Forces officer. Arya Sintesi is the beautiful and sophisticated daughter of a Turkish politician, and an Agent of Turkey’s secret service. The story chronicles their parallel adventures, after a torrid encounter in Istanbul they are separated. John has an active career in the Army fighting terrorists in Lybia, Jihadists in France, and the Taliban in Afghanistan. Arya, after marrying Homer, her Turkish diplomat fiancé, moved to Madrid, and was tasked with missions in England, Germany, and Paris. Six years after their initial meeting in Ankara, John and Arya unexpectedly ran into each other at which occasion John found out that they had a daughter. John was promoted as Attaché to Tel Aviv, and took part in Israeli missions in Southern Lebanon and in the Gaza Strip. He was deployed undercover to Jordan. After a few years, Arya’s husband passed away and she returned to Turkey. Back home she was arrested during a covert operation in northwest Syria, was tortured and jailed in Tadmore prison, Palmyra. After returning from Jordan, John discovered that Arya had been arrested by the Syrians. He’s going to move heaven and earth in an attempt to try to save her.

Sujets

• Romance policière
• Action
• Fiction
• Romance
• Adventure
• Love Story
• Kurdish women

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 30 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665572088
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Kurdish Woman
 
 
 
 
LUIS ROUSSET
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
© 2022 Luis Rousset. All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 09/24/2022
 
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7209-5 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7207-1 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7208-8 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022917978
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1 Ankara
Chapter 2 Dresses
Chapter 3 Arya
Chapter 4 Istanbul
Chapter 5 Two Days in Asia
Chapter 6 Return to Ankara
Chapter 7 Decision
Chapter 8 Returning Home
Chapter 9 Mission
Chapter 10 Kristen
Chapter 11 Sigonella Naval Air Station, Sicily
Chapter 12 Morón de La Frontera, Spain
Chapter 13 Chasing Terrorists
Chapter 14 Paris, City of Lights
Chapter 15 Kristen Reviewed
Chapter 16 Posted in London
Chapter 17 Activists
Chapter 18 Playing the Game
Chapter 19 Conflict
Chapter 20 The Isle of Skye
Chapter 21 Afghanistan, Germany, and Washington
Chapter 22 Life Threat
Chapter 23 Unexpected
Chapter 24 Army Intelligence
Chapter 25 Essen
Chapter 26 The Encounter
Chapter 27 Israel
Chapter 28 London
Chapter 29 Israeli Tank Commander
Chapter 30 Denouement
Chapter 31 Syria
Chapter 32 Syrian Military Security
Chapter 33 The Search
Chapter 34 Planning the Mission
Chapter 35 Palmyra
Chapter 36 The Return
Chapter 37 On the Shores of Lac Léman
Chapter 38 Going Home
Chapter 39 Epilogue

CHAPTER 1
Ankara
Autumn 2004
John Davenport awoke as the airplane started its descent into Ankara Esenboga International Airport. It had been a long flight from Washington, DC, with a change of planes in Munich. Before that, he had driven from North Carolina to meet his sister, Abigail, at Dulles Airport; she was traveling with him.
This was only his second international flight. His long frame and the narrow coach-class seats were a bad fit. To compound his discomfort, his sister had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder.
He didn’t have the heart to wake her, which prevented him from resting for a long stretch of the voyage. Luckily, they were sitting in a side row of two, and John had the aisle seat, which allowed him some relief, by stretching his legs, for brief periods, into the passageway. At age twenty-four, this was his first true time off since attending West Point Military Academy. Recently promoted to first lieutenant, he had been serving as an infantry officer at Fort Bragg for the past year.
And now, he and his sister were going to visit their parents. Abigail—or Abby, as family and friends knew her—was pretty, with blue eyes and blonde hair. She was five years younger than John, and the teenager loved to tease her older brother. It was something John endured good-naturedly with tender patience and humor. He loved his younger sibling.
John came from a family with a long military tradition. His father, Paul, was now attached to the US embassy in Ankara as a military liaison. And his grandfather and great-grandfather were both army men. As his mind wandered, he looked out the window as the plane circled for its final approach. He observed a predominantly gray and brown landscape with very few green spots. From the air, Ankara did not look like a particularly interesting place—no visible rivers or lakes and no remarkable landmarks.
He wasn’t expecting much in terms of scenery. Still, the apparent dryness of the environment was a bit surprising. In preparation for this voyage, he had tried to read all the information he could get on the rich history of the country. He had started from the time of the Hittites, the Greeks, the Romans, and, finally, the Ottomans invading from Asia, whose descendants were highly mixed with other local ethnicities, dominating the place until today. He could imagine the starkness of the area as a cradle for fierce warriors, able to conquer empires and expand their dominion over huge portions of their world.
“Did you rest, John? Were you able to sleep a little?”
John was brought back from his wandering thoughts by the sleepy voice of his sister. She awakened with the plane’s descent, the announcements to fasten seat belts, and the preparations for landing.
“Yes, Abby, I rested some,” he said, stretching his arms.
“I’m excited to see Mom and Dad again. It has been—what?—a year since they left?”
“Just short of one year. I’m also eager to see them again. For me, it has been longer,” John answered. “You realize that I was serving in Fort Benning, Georgia, when they left for Turkey. It’s been more like eighteen months since I last set eyes on them. I wonder if I’ll notice any changes. Living here is so different from home. I hope they are enjoying the experience.”
“I’m sure they are. Remember, Dad has lived in many foreign places, sometimes under difficult conditions. This isn’t new for him. He’s an army officer, after all.”
“True, but for Mother, this is totally new. She has never resided abroad. Besides, they are not getting any younger.”
A stewardess asked them to adjust the back of their seats.
“Well, here we go,” said John, storing his blanket under the seat.
“We’ll discover how they are, presently.”
They had just entered the line to check their passports when they spotted their father coming in their direction, accompanied by a shorter, dark-haired man.
“Abby, John, I’m so glad to see you both,” Paul Davenport said, hugging his children. He kissed Abby and held his son, both hands on his shoulders, at arm’s length. “Jesus, John! Did you grow an inch more since I last saw you?”
Both father and son stood at the same height. At six foot three, they were tall, lean men.
“No, sir,” John smiled. “It’s the exercise they put you through. It makes you stand straighter.”
“I forgot. You underwent jump-school training at Benning and are now a paratroop officer. I’m proud of you, son. How’s your new posting at Fort Bragg? Are you enjoying your unit? I know your regiment’s commander, Colonel Thomas Paddington. We both served in Nam. He’s a fine officer and a decent man.”
“He is, sir. Colonel Paddington mentioned that he knew you, and I like being a paratrooper very much. It has been a wonderful experience.”
“Eh, are you two going to keep talking this military nonsense and forget that I’m here?” Abby complained with mock annoyance.
“Never,” Paul said, releasing his son to hug Abby. “How could I forget the treasure of my life?”
“Where is Mom, and how did you get in here, Dad?” Abby asked. “We haven’t gone through immigration yet.”
“Mother is anxiously waiting for the two of you outside. As to how I am here, it is both a diplomatic prerogative and the courtesy of inspector Tefik Ütine,” Paul said, turning to the inspector who had stood slightly apart during the exchange. “Inspector, may I introduce to you my children—my daughter, Abigail, and my son, John.”
“It’s a great pleasure to meet you both.” Tefik extended his hand to shake theirs. “Please, give me your passports. I’ll take care of having them properly stamped and cleared of immigration procedures. Will you please follow me?”
Tefik left the Davenports in a small waiting room. He returned a few minutes later to give back their passports and take them to collect their baggage. They passed customs and, after thanking him for his help, were outside in the arrival area. There, they finally met their eagerly waiting mother, Barbara Davenport.
“Oh, honey, I’m so glad to see you. You look so pretty. You must tell me everything that happened since I left you. Boyfriends—you must tell me everything,” Barbara said, embracing her daughter.
“Ah, Mom, there is really nothing new. Nothing serious, at least.”
“Come on, I’m sure there are thousands of things we must talk about. And you, John,” Barbara said, turning to her son, “You are so handsome. I fear we’ll lose you very soon to some pretty, clever girl.”
John smiled. “Not to worry. As Abby said, there’s nothing serious going on.”
“Come,” Colonel Davenport interrupted them. “Let’s get clear of this airport. I borrowed an embassy car. The driver is waiting outside, probably illegally parked.”
They then pushed their baggage cart to the curb, and Paul left them to go look for the car and driver. A few moments later, a black American-made car stopped in front of them, and Paul stepped out.
“Here we are. This is our car. I’m afraid we’ll have to squeeze ourselves a bit, to fit in. Let’s put your luggage in and get going. I want to get you home, settled, and then decide what to do with the rest of the day.”
“They must be tired, Paul. They will probably want to rest before going out again,” Barbara intervened.
“Nonsense. They are young, and their time here is limited. There are so many things to see. We must plan how to maximize their stay with us. And we should take a few days off and drive to Cappadocia. Perhaps we co