Farid Al Hammasa grabbed the<span style="font-style: italic">books</span>. These were the documentation on the comings and goings for the<span style="font-style: italic">Lion</span>. With all his attempts and randomizing his patterns, the leader of the Syrian government unwittingly allowed a few habits to surface in his movements. This would be useful information for the Turkish photojournalist who wanted to shoot his photograph.<br/><br/>By 1500 hours, the sun was already passing its zenith, but the temperature had spiked over the weather forecaster's prediction and was almost to 85 degrees Fahrenheit. Farid climbed the mountain on foot and waited near the top. He  spied the green Land Rover as it made its way up the winding road through the olive groves. Somehow most of the trees had stood the test of time and weathered the hailstorm of bullets that ravaged this land.<br/><br/>Farid had never seen Malik Topçu, but recognized the vehicle he was driving. He was nervous, that this was not the man he intended to meet. He waited for him to exit the vehicle before approaching.<br/><br/>He still wore the Syrian Army BDUs and filthy black combat boots. On his left shoulder he still wore a brassard displaying the Syrian Army insignia as well as the words,<span style="font-style: italic"> مسؤول العلاقات الإعلامية</span>[tr.: Media Relations Officer]. This was his cover and he was sticking to it. He hoped that if he were captured by the Syrian Arab Republic of worse, by ISIL, this cover would protect him. His dark brown beard filled with dried sweat and coated in dust seemed to be the dominant feature of his face. His aviator sunglasses covered his naturally brown eyes.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“I assume you must be Farid? We spoke on the phone. My name is Malik Topçu.” The man began calmly. The stranger held his hand out for a handshake. “I am honored that you… have taken time out of your busy schedule to speak with me.”</span>The man, calling himself Malik Topçu spoke.<br/><br/>Farid shook his hand in return, saying rather loudly, just in case someone was listening, "Allahu akhar!" This was the common greeting Muslim men gave one another when meeting. It meant,<span style="font-style: italic">God is greater</span>(than all of us) or<span style="font-style: italic">God is greatest.</span>Just in case someone was listening, it would be best to appear as though they belonged. Blending in with one's surroundings is something Farid had adapted to quickly. He could tell this Malik was no Muslim man. Neither was he for that matter.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“I like this view,” he said. “I could take a lot of good shots.”</span><br/><br/>"Praised be to allah for this beautiful view," Farid responded. "We should take your vehicle back into the city. We can talk in privacy that way. If you don't mind."<br/><br/>Once inside the  Land Rover, Farid asked, "How is my friend, Pinar these days?" I haven't seen her in more than half a year." Farid wanted to be sure this was the right man before showing him the notes his surveillance team had collected over the past six months.