Exit Plan (39 page)

“Got it. Till then.”

“I’ll see you shortly.” Omid responded to his partner’s farewell and then turned his attention to the four apprehensive young men with him.

“All right, my Basij fighters,” announced Omid. “We’ll form a line, four meters between each man, and we’ll walk along the roadside looking for any evidence that someone headed toward those hills to our left. Since the light is waning fast, we’ll make one quick pass up and back and then we’ll call it a day.”

The five men stretched out with four off the road, and one just at the edge. They each turned on their flashlights and slowly began walking toward the clump of trees near the hillside.

~ * ~

“Shit,” cursed Ramey. “They’re coming this way.”

“I think they’re looking for our tracks,” Fazel guessed. “I’m sorry, Boss, but I didn’t do a great job of hiding them.”

“Couldn’t be helped, Doc. You were practically carrying Dr. Naseri back up the rock ledge. Okay, people, listen up; column formation along this ridgeline. Pointy is in the lead, with the XO, Dr. Naseri, and then Captain Akbari behind. Philly has the rear while Doc and I cover our withdrawal. Move quietly, but move quickly. Go!”

Jerry helped Dr. Naseri to her feet; she was exhausted from the hike into Bandar Charak and back, but fear fueled her legs now. Yousef helped her to keep her footing as they moved slowly away from the advancing Iranian soldiers.

It took only a couple of minutes for Jerry to realize that the soldiers were gaining on them. They were at best one hundred meters away and closing. “Boss, they’re getting closer,” Phillips said over the radio net. Ramey made a vigorous motion with his hand, pointing for Jerry to keep the two Iranians moving.

Shirin was having difficulty climbing the ragged rock line. Shadows from the last light of the day hid loose rocks and low spots. Coupled with her fatigue, her movements were unsure and halting. Yousef quietly prompted her to move forward by gently pushing her waist. She stepped up on to the next rock, but when she put her weight down on it, a portion of the rock slipped away and rattled its way down the hillside. Ramey whispered urgently over the radio, “Everyone down! Don’t move!” Jerry froze in an awkward position, half perched on a bolder.

~ * ~

“Sir!” shouted a young Basij private. “Over there, I heard some rocks fall!”

Omid quickly motioned for the private to be quiet; he, too, had heard the rocks, but falling rocks weren’t unusual in this part of the country. Still, just to be safe, Omid had them approach more slowly, their weapons at the ready. Two Basij kept trying to scan the ridgeline with their flashlights. They hadn’t gone another six meters when the sergeant called him. “Agent Omid, I believe these are the tracks of two people.”

“I’m coming over,” he said quietly. Unfortunately, the other three Basij followed him over as well. Moving as a group, they walked toward the ridge where Jerry and the others had been.

~ * ~

“They’re on to us, Boss,” Fazel concluded over the radio. “I have a good shot on the lead guy.”

“Not yet, Doc,” Ramey whispered. “I’m not convinced they know we’re here. Let’s be patient and give them a chance to back off.”

“Hooyah, sir.”

Ramey looked to his left, and with hand signals, ordered Phillips to assume a firing position. Running away was no longer an option. Jerry felt useless. He couldn’t raise his SCAR, as he needed both hands just to keep him on the bolder. If he tried to move, he’d undoubtedly make more noise and likely give away their position. All he could do was hold still and watch as Phillips snuck quietly toward the ridgeline. But as he stepped down, his left foot started slipping on some loose sand. He instinctively threw his hand up to brace himself against the rock, and for a fraction of a second, his hand was exposed.

“Sir!” screamed one of the militiamen. “Movement, over there!” The soldier immediately raised his weapon and cut loose with several bursts.

The rounds ricocheted off the rock wall just above them; shards of rock and dust fell down from the impact points. Yousef pushed Shirin to the ground and covered her body with his. Shirin was shaking violently from fear. Jerry grasped the rock he was laying on even tighter. He couldn’t see the soldiers, so theoretically they shouldn’t be able to see him. Theoretically.

“Take them out,” ordered Ramey calmly. The three men took careful aim, and fired together as if they were one man.

~ * ~

Omid was furious. He grabbed the soldier’s weapon and shoved it toward the ground. “What the hell do you think you are shooting at? Shadows?” he asked angrily. The young Basij didn’t have time to answer the VEVAK agent as a 7.26mm round pierced his chest. Two of the other Basij militiamen were also hit before Omid heard the cracks of the rifles. He dove for the ground, rolled toward the clump of trees, and hid behind one of the fallen men, seeking cover, as bullets whizzed above him. The fourth Basij soldier just stood there, stunned by what he had seen. A fraction of a second later, another single crack signaled his demise. Confused and terrified, Omid searched for his cell phone. He needed reinforcements.

~ * ~

“Last man down,” declared Fazel. “I got two, sir.”

“I got one, Boss,” Phillips added.

“I’m pretty sure I only got one, as well,” said Ramey. “One of those guys is playing possum.”

“I can’t tell which one, Boss. No one is moving and their IR signatures all look the same. Do you want me to put a round into each one again?” Fazel asked. Before Ramey could respond, the corpsman saw a slight light appear in his scope. The man behind one of the fallen soldiers had opened a cell phone; Fazel now knew his target. “Oh no, you don’t,” he whispered as he squeezed his trigger for the third time.

~ * ~

Omid moved slowly. With the flashlights on the ground, his assailants probably couldn’t see him clearly. If he moved very slowly, maybe he could fool them into thinking he had been hit. He gradually brought the cell phone up to his chest and carefully slipped open the face, trying desperately to hide the light. He managed to push the speed-dial number for Teymour’s phone, and even heard it ring once. But that was the last thing he heard as a bullet sliced through his skull. The phone dropped onto the sand, a concerned voice emanating from its speaker, “Hafez? Hafez? Hafez, can you hear me? Hafez!”

~ * ~

By the time Sattari arrived eight minutes later, the Americans and their precious Iranian cargo were almost five kilometers down the road. Fazel drove with the lights off, using the night-vision goggles they had obtained from
Michigan.
He turned right onto Highway 96, and it wasn’t until they had gone another twenty kilometers before he turned on the headlights and slowed to a more normal speed.

~ * ~

“Would you care for more tea, Major?” asked Badar. The elderly cleric lifted the teapot and offered to pour more steaming liquid into Rahim’s cup.

“You are most gracious, Mullah Badar. Yes, please,” replied Rahim politely. What he really wanted was more information on the missing patrol, but he had to be patient with the old man who insisted on being a good host to one as important as himself.

The drive to Bandar Tahari, while short, had been exceptionally pleasant. The sun hung low in the cloudless sky, an accompanying soft warm breeze from off the gulf beckoned him to stop and appreciate life. Under different circumstances, Rahim would have allowed himself the luxury of enjoying the trip. As it was, he barely noticed the ancient castle of Sheikh Nosouns, an eighteenth-century fortress seated high up on a hill that dominated the village’s skyline. His mind was elsewhere. All his abilities and energy were focused on killing the traitors and their likely American allies.

Rahim’s phone call to Moradi as he left Kangan was short and to the point. The Pasdaran had to be mobilized. If American commandos were indeed on Iranian soil, as he strongly suspected, the Basij were not adequately trained or equipped to handle such an adversary. General Moradi was not keen on ordering the mobilization without just cause. If he didn’t have a good reason, he had said, it would only draw unwanted attention, attention that could interfere with their operation. There had to be a tangible justification to declare a mobilization. One based on a clear threat to the Islamic Republic.

Rahim knew exactly what Moradi was hinting at over the unsecure phone. If he wanted the Pasdaran to become fully engaged, Moradi needed a bone to throw to the rabid bureaucratic dogs. One that would get their gaze focused in a different direction, away from Natanz. Reluctantly, Rahim acquiesced and agreed that Moradi could display his prize.

The general sounded extremely pleased, and said he would order the mobilization immediately. He also reassured Rahim, saying that it would take a little time to arrange the proper media spectacle. It wouldn’t be until tomorrow morning before the world would learn of the foreign invaders. As the signal weakened, and almost as an afterthought, Moradi informed Rahim that the navy had agreed to send one of their Kilo-class submarines into the Persian Gulf to try and find the American submarine.

Content that all the pieces were being put into play, Rahim concentrated on how to deploy them to best effect. To do that, he needed to find the enemy. To find them required information on where they had been, and when.

“I do not wish to seem rude, Mullah Badar, but time is of the essence. What additional news have you found concerning your missing patrol?” prodded Rahim, as he took a sip of tea.

“I see that you are a man of action, Major. My apologies for not sensing the urgent nature of your visit. Here is my brigade’s report on this incident.” Badar handed Rahim a folder with several sheets of paper and a folded map. The report was neatly written and referenced the local map that had been liberally annotated. “We have found no trace of the patrol led by Corporal Molavi. He is an army veteran with some combat experience and is one of my best fighters.” Badar spread out the map and highlighted their patrol route with his wrinkled hand.

“They were one of three patrols along a twenty-five-kilometer front on Highway 96. These patrols roamed between two established security checkpoints, here and here, ten kilometers on either side of the village. Molavi and three new privates had the early morning shift.”

“Were there any reports of suspicious activity from the checkpoints or the other patrols?” queried Rahim.

“No, Major. Everything seemed very quiet.”

“What measures have you taken to locate this patrol?”

“Molavi’s patrol started their shift promptly at midnight. When they failed to muster at 1600 the next day, we went to each of their homes and verified that they had not returned after their shift was done at 0600. We then conducted a thorough search of the village and along the highway. We found no trace of the four men or their vehicle.”

“Their vehicle?” Rahim asked with interest.

“Yes, my Basij only have two small cars available, so we asked for help from the local people. Private Salani’s employer had a medium-sized van that could easily hold four, and he graciously allowed us to use it. It has also vanished. The details on this van are on the third page of the report,” explained Badar.

Rahim turned to that page and noted the van’s make, model, color, and license plate number. There were also several photographs. Excellent.

The mullah’s description of Molavi also reinforced his suspicion that Akbari had help. He glanced at his watch. They could have had up to eighteen hours if they’d jumped the patrol early in their shift.
If they were bold, and traveled during the day, they could be past Bandar Abbas by now,
he thought. But that seemed unlikely, he knew that American Special Forces were creatures of the night and preferred to hide by day. This limited them to five, maybe six hours of travel time at the very most. Heading northwest was also unlikely; the security checkpoints in that direction had been established the day before. So assuming a southeasterly direction would put them somewhere between Bandar Tahari and Bandar Abbas. Naseri’s uncle had lived in Bandar Charak. Rahim felt he was getting closer. Then he remembered the report from Tehran, and the lead that Omid was tracking down.