Exit Plan (23 page)

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Authors: Larry Bond

BOOK: Exit Plan
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“Ma’am, we’re not going to leave you behind. I thought you wanted the world to know about Iran’s nuclear weapons program. Telling us the key increases the chance of that happening.”

 

“No.” Her tone was as hard as her expression. “Why was the boat canceled last night? The one that would have taken us to your submarine.”

 

“Too many boat patrols. It was too risky.”

 

“If you had been more willing to take risks, we would be aboard your submarine right now, not hiding in a cave.”

 

“Ma’am, we took risks on this mission you can hardly imagine. One of my men is dead because of the risks we took.” He sighed, a sound that mixed sadness and frustration. “There are good risks and bad ones. You have to judge them carefully.”

 

“My husband and I know all about risk, Mr. SEAL. We have been stealing and sending secret information to your government for years, while VEVAK watched every move we made. Every day, every hour, I worried if we had given ourselves away somehow, if they were coming to arrest us. Can you imagine being afraid of every knock on the door, every phone call?”

 

Her voice rose. “And do you know what we were risking? Being called traitors by the ones we love would be the easiest part. Have you ever heard of Evin Prison? Do you know what would happen to Yousef and me in that hateful place? Yousef’s brother was taken there and never came out. I have prayed that he died quickly. What a terrible thing to pray for.”

 

“We’ll get out of here, and I give you my word that we’ll all get out together.”

 

“But it isn’t your decision, Mr. SEAL. Others have to take risks. They must want to come and get us. Us.” She pointed to Yousef and herself. “Not the files. I have the baby to consider. And there are other things we know, not in the files, even more important.”

 

“You’ve mentioned that before. What things?”

 

“Get us to your submarine, let them read the files. Then they will listen to us.”

 

“I’m listening now.”

 

“No. “

 

~ * ~

 

4 April 2013

1500 Local Time/1200 Zulu

Bandar Kangan

 

The helicopter from Bushehr landed at an athletic field near the edge of town. They were waiting to meet him. A police jeep in one corner headed toward his aircraft as soon as the engines spooled down.

 

A young man in civilian clothes hurried over as the helicopter’s door opened. “Major? I’m Karim Dahghan, from the Bushehr office.”

 

Rahim stepped from the helicopter and walked quickly toward the jeep. “You will be my assistant while I’m here.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Dahghan managed to look pleased and worried at the same time. As they approached the jeep, a young officer in a police uniform saluted.

 

“This is Lieutenant Rastkar. He commands Kangan’s police.”

 

Rastkar, standing next to the jeep, offered his hand. “We’ve made space for you and Mr. Dahghan at the barracks.”

 

Rahim climbed in back, with Dahghan next to him. Rastkar sat in front, next to the police driver, and said, “Go.”

 

Turning in his seat to face Rahim, he explained, “Kangan is a small town. We will be at headquarters in just a few minutes. We have already made progress. The couple you asked about was seen in several places yesterday.”

 

Dahghan continued, “We found the hotel they were staying at, registered for two nights. They used the name ‘Fardid.’ They did not return to their room last night. The last sighting we have of them is in the early evening. We are still assembling a time line of their movements.”

 

Kangan really was a small town, little more than a fishing village. The police barracks was a jumbled one-story structure that had seen several additions, but was in need of renovation. The barracks was full of activity, and Rastkar explained, “Normally we deal with a little smuggling, some domestic cases. A manhunt is much more interesting.”

 

The space they’d set aside for Rahim and Dahghan was clean, if rundown. Several documents were waiting on one corner of a desk, and Rahim set down his valise and quickly skimmed them. The others waited patiently.

 

“Their car was seen outside town.” It was a flat statement to Dahghan.

 

“Yes, sir. We interviewed the two Basij soldiers who found the vehicle. It was parked just off Highway 96. It was locked, with nobody in the vehicle or nearby. There was nothing suspicious, so they noted the license plate and continued their patrol. When they returned on the next leg of their patrol, an hour later, the vehicle was gone.”

 

“And this was in the early evening, yesterday.”

 

“A short time after sunset, Major.”

 

Rahim sat down, looking thoughtful. Rastkar asked, “May I know what offense these people have committed? My officers have asked if they may be violent, or armed.”

 

The major answered, “Their specific offense is not your concern. Akbari is a Pasdaran officer, and most likely is armed. Our first priority is to find them. Once we do, it is important that they be taken alive. There are many questions I want to ask them. Your officers must not shoot them, no matter the provocation.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Rastkar didn’t look pleased, but he knew where Rahim’s authority came from.

 

“I am concerned that these people may have contacted foreign agents. They may be meeting one, or may have met one last night. It doesn’t matter if that foreigner is still with them, or if they have exchanged items or information. Whatever has happened, our first priority is to find them. Everything else will follow from that.

 

“Lieutenant Rastkar, were any boats out last night? Did you make any arrests near the water? Any unusual reports?”

 

“I’ll find out, sir.”

 

“Contact the local Basij commander. I want the two men who found the car to guide some of your officers to the exact spot they saw it. Search the area for any trace of activity. Move quickly. You only have a short time before sunset.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Also, tell the commander that I want to see him immediately,” Rahim added. “I have other work for them. Go.” Rastkar left quickly.

 

“Dahghan, search the hotel room. You know what to look for.”

 

The agent nodded.

 

“How are your relations with the police? Their commander?”

 

“They have been very helpful, Major. I have no complaints.”

 

“Good. Then go over the police reports on their movements. It’s possible that someone here in Kangan was the agent they were supposed to meet. Or they may have left something in a dead drop somewhere along their route. Follow their path and investigate anyone or any place you think is worthwhile.”

 

The agent nodded again, taking notes.

 

“And take one of the police officials along with you. He may see something that you wouldn’t know is unusual, and I don’t want you getting lost. Time is critical. The faster we work, the closer they’ll be.”

 

A large map of Kangan covered one wall. “Where is the cell phone tower? I assume there’s only one.”

 

Dahghan had to ask a police sergeant, who came in and marked a spot near the center of town.

 

“Akbari was within thirteen kilometers of this point when his phone went dead at 0810 hours this morning. Since their car was found east of town, along the highway, we can begin our search in the eastern half of that circle.”

 

A police sergeant knocked. “Sir, the Basij commander is here.”

 

Dahghan opened the door and stood back. A small man wearing a black turban and a brown, sleeveless cloak over his white robe waited for a moment, then came in, smiling. He was only a little older then Rahim, but his white beard gave him an air of great dignity. The black turban marked him as a descendant of Mohammed.

 

Rahim stood.

 

“I am Mullah Hamid Dashani, leader of the mosque and commander of the Kangan Brigade of the Basij.”

 

“Thank you for coming, Mullah Dashani. I am Major Rahim, from the Ministry of Intelligence and National Security.” Shaking the cleric’s hand, Rahim bowed his head slightly, and motioned to the chair on the other side of the desk.

 

Sitting, Dashani smiled broadly. “You have created quite a stir, Major. My Basij are at your service. In fact, they are already mustering, in advance of your orders. I think we may even have a few new volunteers.”

 

Rahim sighed. “I had hoped to investigate this matter quietly.”

 

“This is a small town, Major. Word spreads like lightning. A helicopter? A missing Pasdaran officer? I saw the pictures of the couple when Dahghan questioned my two men from last night. Are they mixed up with smugglers? Murderers? Or are they spies?” The cleric was still smiling.

 

“Please, Mullah Dashani. I cannot tell you any details, for obvious reasons, but I need your help.”

 

The major’s manner became more serious. “And please, no more speculation. I need checkpoints set up along the coastal highway and other major roads, as well as an increase in the number of patrols along the coast highway. I will also need, dedicated teams walking all the beaches north and south of the city. They should look for signs of a recent landing, or boats in unusual places. All foreigners must be stopped and questioned.”

 

“We could give you several checkpoints, each manned by four men. And four-man patrols walking the beaches. And we can ask the police for more vehicles.”

 

The cleric paused, and Rahim could see him calculating. “Normally we have just one patrol on the beaches, and another on the highway. We can do what you ask for a short while, but my brigade can only muster about fifty fighters. Many of them will have to miss work while we are mobilized. Should I ask some of the other brigade commanders for assistance?”

 

“No, please do not. It should only be for a few days. And tell your fighters that they are not to speak of this matter.”

 

Dashani nodded knowingly. “I understand.”

 

“And we need to increase the number of boat patrols, with some in close to shore, and others farther out.”

 

“This can be done. I am on very good terms with the Pasdaran naval commander here. I will coordinate closely with him.”

 

“If your men do find this couple, they should apprehend them, but it’s important that they be taken alive. Can they do this?”

 

“Of course. My boys are energetic. What they lack in skill, they make up in devotion.”

 

“There will be no pitched battles, I promise.”

 

They arranged the locations of the checkpoints and communications procedures, and the mullah left, excited and eager to “send his fighters into action.”

 

~ * ~

 

4 April 2013

1700 Local Time/1400 Zulu

USS
Michigan,
Battle Management Center

 

Captain Guthrie had been expecting to get a final brief on the rescue mission, but the plan was to wait until sunset to make a go/no go decision.

 

Instead, Frederickson had summoned him early, and he hadn’t sounded happy.

 

“We started to hear increased traffic on the naval circuits earlier today. It took some time to find out if they were reacting to something specific, but there hasn’t been any mention of a specific contact or an intercept.” Frederickson sighed. “But boat patrols have stepped up their coverage by over fifty percent.”

 

“Any pattern?”

 

“Yes, sir. But it’s not one we can exploit. There are too many boats out there now.”

 

“What if we shorten the run—say, close to six nautical miles?”

 

Frederickson fought to hide his surprise. “And disobey a direct presidential order?”

 

“It’s merely a
hypothetical
question, Mr. Frederickson,” remarked Guthrie quietly.

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