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They saw the rocket launchers tear through the sky, the pilot felt himself jump with the wound he received from somewhere in the back of the fuselage, instinctively choosing the safety that his altitude would bring, he immediately started to climb, as the foggy mountains slipped away from them, a new storm of rockets passed by them, leaving streaks behind, they could see the anti-aircraft guns in the cockpit, the captain said to the co-pilot, what an unlucky man you are, whenever we fly with you, bullets appear in front of me.

He pointed to the rocket that shattered in front of his eyes; he said there was nothing to worry about, they missed by at least 5 centimeters, the co-pilot said 2 centimeters, he was having difficulty breathing from the fear of death. 2 centimeters can make an incredibly big difference, at least that's what my wife says, he said, laughing and looking out the window, yes, my wife also says there is a big difference between 15 centimeters and 13 centimeters, the cockpit door was thrown open, the co-pilot stuck his head out, his shoulders hunched over the parachute bag. The weather was extremely hot.

"What was that?" the captain asked.

"A Patriot, or? How is our cargo protected?" said co-pilot Muhammed, he reached out to him and said we have a strange passenger, I mean really strange, bullets were flying everywhere, but he didn't blink once.

He's sitting there like a frog sunning himself on a lily pad; you should see the medallion around his neck, he must weigh at least a kilo, but are those attacking us Americans or American-backed separatists?

I'm telling you, a kilo of gold is hanging from his flat and small neck.

I said he's a senior executive!

Is that all you've been told?

I'm just a deliveryman, I don't need to know more than that.

Let's fix it at 245 m altitude, when he looked out of the open cockpit door, he noticed the passenger sitting docilely among the equipment.

His face in the cabin was shining like the surface of a varnished wooden table.

His eyes were closed, his lips were partly closed, and he was muttering something.

I wondered if he was praying in his seat.

Yes, this man was definitely one of the most interesting cargoes, he had carried strange passengers before.

He had worked for Russian Airlines and in the 5 years he had worked there, he had carried German shepherds, generals, escort girls and taken them to where they needed to go; if hell had a known route, I would happily say I would take them - as long as they had tickets - anything, anytime, anywhere.

The special guest on the plane was the minister of the leader Beşer Esat.

The captain pilot looked at the fog flowing over the desert and said, "Here we are passing over the Euphrates River."

The ground cover is very thick, we will have a hard time.

He looked at the green slopes for a long time and said, "It will happen anyway, we have to go fast and low, this will be a very short landing."

The Euphrates River was like a needle scratch among the trees, they were very close to the Turkish border and there was also the possibility of an ambush that had not been reported, but the order given was to hand over the unknown senior manager right there at the bottom of the border, no information was given about returning and returning. If forgotten, it felt like a one-way trip; when they landed, the Americans could attack and this manager could be taken hostage, and there were also American-backed Kurdish guerrillas in the area.

He called over his shoulder to the pilot in the back saying we'll be opening in a minute

Get ready for the trip!

The minister says the crate will come with him; no one told me anything about the crate, said Muhammed.

"They loaded it at the last minute, after all the checks; it's a pretty heavy crate, I might need some help."

The passenger meekly unbuckled his belt, sighed and said, "Okay," but don't forget that they don't pay me to carry a crate."

"What are you getting paid for, Muhammed?" the co-pilot was sitting idly, dropping the ashes of his cigarette on the ground, there were a lot of things, said the captain.

He passed him and ducked his head and exited through the cockpit door.

"Damn those Russian planes!" he said and added:

"They make the door so low; "We're going down to the ground"

The last words he uttered were cut short by an explosion that shattered his eardrums, the explosion sending him, or whatever was left of him, flying back into the cockpit, the control panel covered in blood, the dial completely covered in red liquid, he didn't need ten feet to know they were going down in a fit; besides, looking at what was left of the co-pilot, the words he had uttered on his behalf were almost lost in the howling chaos of the wind; he suddenly shivered like a wounded bird trying to stay in the air, struggling with the controls, he realized that the hydraulics had completely failed. The best he could do was to land on the river, he looked back to see how he was going to do it, and saw the blood-soaked body of the passenger being thrown towards the crates behind the swirling cloud; he also noticed the sunlight shining through the strangely found steel and the cargo door