Chapter 5
Poland Two Days Later
In Poland, the headlights of a vintage Russian military truck pierced the moonless night. The vehicle moved through a thickly forested region on the road full of rocks and potholes. The driver, a bear of a man, jerked the wheel back and forth in an unsuccessful attempt to miss the larger holes. The truck's passenger, a thin, hawk-nosed Arab said grimly, “You’re doing great! You’ve hit most of the potholes!”
The driver said nothing, his clenched jaws his only comment to the sarcasm. “Slow down,” said Hawk-Nose, “the turn-off is coming up. There! See the white-painted stone? Turn in there.”
The truck slowed and turned off the main road onto a two-track dirt road. It was in better repair than the paved road. The trail came up to an open area paved in cracke
