Exit Plan (45 page)

He was still low, crawling to a place where he could get up safely when another pair of explosions ripped the landscape near— No, it was at the PKM’s position. It didn’t fire again. He hadn’t seen anything but rifle fire from the enemy. The range was too great and the explosions too large for a grenade launcher. He thought of a helicopter gunship, but there was no noise. Was it a stealth bomber?

Would there be more explosions? He was losing men, and the battle. His only hope was to close with them so that they couldn’t drop any more bombs.

“By opposite numbers, advance!” Sistani’s only thought now was to finish this quickly.

~ * ~

Jerry heard Ramey’s shout just as he was lining up for a shot on the soldiers on the highway. In the display, he saw them moving, and pressed the right button twice, quickly, even though he hadn’t marked their position. He kept the crosshairs centered on the middle of the line and watched explosions knock three men off their feet.

But they were coming now. Lapointe helped him find the autopilot key that would send the Cormorant into a circular orbit at a safe altitude.

“Help me up,” Lapointe asked, and pushing up with his good leg, Jerry got the petty officer faced forward, then handed him his rifle.

Jerry grabbed his own weapon and looked for a place. Ramey motioned for him to go to the far end of the line, near the Iranians, and staying low, Jerry joined Fazel and Yousef, both firing.

The Pasdaran soldiers were advancing in pairs, taking turns firing while the other ran forward for the next bit of cover. Fazel was having the best luck sniping at the shooters, who were stationary at least, even if they were under cover. Kneeling next to Shirin, Yousef used his rifle to give Harry covering fire.

Jerry concentrated on the advancing soldiers, trying to guess when they’d spring up and run forward. He might actually hit one, or at least make him stop sooner than he’d planned. The trick was keeping them from getting too close.

Fazel dropped another one. As Jerry tried to count how many were still out there, he saw the soldiers nearest them raise their arms. He shouted, “Grenades!”

They ducked as the grenades fell short, but Jerry felt the blast on the back of his neck. Knowing the explosions would signal a general charge, Jerry came up firing, holding the trigger on full automatic and emptying the magazine.

Yousef was doing the same. Only the SEALs took the time to squeeze off aimed shots. Three soldiers had charged their position, firing as they came, but they all died. Jerry didn’t know who had hit whom, and he didn’t cared.

He was putting in a fresh magazine when another grenade went off in front of them. Suddenly, he heard Shirin scream and saw Yousef falling. Calling “Harry!” as he leapt over her, Jerry rolled Yousef face up and felt something warm and wet on his hand.

Somebody grabbed the back of his vest and yanked him away from Yousef, and Fazel said, “I’ve got him. You keep firing.”

Jerry quickly turned and brought up his rifle, searching with the night-scope, but didn’t see any movement. The firing had stopped on the other side as well. Several bodies lay sprawled a dozen meters in front of them, but remembering his past experience, Jerry didn’t move forward.

“It’s an artery,” Harry said softly to Shirin, but Jerry was close enough to hear it as well. “Probably a grenade fragment.”

Ramey asked, “Is the Cormorant still up there?”

“We’ve got another fifteen or twenty minutes on station.”

“Can you use it to see if there are any stragglers?”

Jerry reluctantly turned away from Yousef, but knew he was in good hands with Harry. Finding the visor and controller, he took control of the orbiting UAV and had it fly straight overhead. “I see us, I see at least ten bodies, including three by the machine gun and two . ..

“Wait. I’ve got movement. One figure is running. I can see him heading for a vehicle—a truck.”

“You’ve got to take him out,” Ramey ordered.

“Doing it,” Jerry said. It was eerie. Jerry could see the front of the vehicle grow brighter as the motor started. Before it could start moving, he put the UAV in a shallow dive and fired. The last two laser-guided 2.75-inch rockets hit the truck, and when the display cleared, the vehicle was on its side, burning. Jerry couldn’t feel good about it.

“It’s near bingo fuel,” Jerry reported.

“Then send it home.” Ramey answered. “Can you give a UAV a medal?” he asked, smiling.

As Jerry was telling the autopilot to head for the rendezvous point, Phillips walked up and spoke softly. “Boss, Harry’s been working on Yousef, but it looks bad.”

Jerry’s heart sank. Ramey just said “Shit,” and went over to kneel down by Yousef.

Fazel explained, “I’ve stopped the arterial bleeding, but I think the fragment did more damage internally. He’s sinking, and I’ve run out of things I can do.”

He was so pale, and Shirin did her best to smile and hold his hand, which was cold as ice. “My brave soldier,” she repeated over and over again. She wasn’t sure he could hear her, but he finally smiled, and coughed. He looked at her, then Harry, and said weakly, “Now you will say the
Janazah Salah
for me.”

Shirin tried to speak, but tears stole her voice. “I promise,” Harry finally said. “If we did it for our enemies, how much more will I do for my own brother?”

“Take care of her, then, brother.” Yousef rasped. As he finished speaking, he exhaled—a long, slow, gurgling breath, and he was gone. Harry reached over and closed Yousef’s lifeless eyes. Shirin began to weep uncontrollably, saying over and over again, “No, Baba, no!”

~ * ~

“We’ve got to get moving,” Ramey ordered.

“I saw a truck, but one of my rocket strikes wrecked it,” Jerry reported.

“Then we walk,” Ramey answered. “Right now. Column formation. It will help hide our numbers.”

Ramey then turned to Fazel and handed him a dead tree branch. “Harry, do what you can to hide our footprints. I don’t want the Iranians to see us heading toward the beach.”

Phillips and Jerry, the designated stretcher-bearers, rigged a litter and carefully moved Lapointe onto it. Once Fazel had dosed the petty officer with much-needed painkillers, and was sure Lapointe was settled, he asked Jerry, “Can you take my pack, XO?”

After Jerry took the backpack, at least as heavy as the fifty pounds he was already carrying, Fazel took a blanket and tied it around Yousef’s body to hold it in place. Hoisting the limp form with Ramey’s help, he balanced Yousef on his shoulders. “I’m ready,” Harry announced. He saw the surprise in Jerry’s expression. “You didn’t think we were going to leave him, did you?”

“We could bury him here,” Jerry suggested. He didn’t say it, but he was a little worried about Harry’s load. He’d traded a fifty-pound pack for two hundred-plus pounds.

“I’m good,” insisted Fazel.

“We don’t have time,” Ramey said firmly. “And we don’t leave our people behind.”

Without another word, Ramey led off on point. Jerry and Phillips followed, carrying Lapointe, then Fazel with his solemn burden, and Shirin walking at his side.

~ * ~

They’d been walking for about half an hour when Jerry saw what had to be a convoy. Even from three hundred meters south of the highway, he could hear the diesel engines, and instead of one or two sets of headlights, he counted at least four or five, traveling as a group, and heading west, toward where they’d fought the battle. “If those trucks are carrying troops, that’s at least a company,” Phillips observed softly.

They’d frozen, of course, taking a knee and waiting for the lights to pass. There was enough vegetation along this part of the coast so that they were usually able to find cover when they needed it. The gulf lay just a hundred meters to the right. Ramey kept them closer to the water, where the brush was thicker and would hide their tracks.

Jerry was grateful for the frequent stops, even if it meant having to stand up again after the traffic had passed. Sometimes, Ramey would let them rest for an extra minute, using the time to check Lapointe or adjust someone’s load.

They were all weighed down. Jerry carried Fazel’s pack, Philips carried Lapointe’s, in addition to both of them carrying the stretcher. Fazel of course carried Yousef, and now Shirin had a hand on his arm to help steady her. Even she did her part, carrying Harry’s rifle slung over her shoulder.

The SEALs were absolutely silent as they withdrew from the scene of the skirmish. Besides the occasional snap of brush, or the sound of tottering rock, the group made little noise. Ramey led the way, but also would scout ahead, or to the side, or fall back and watch for any pursuit. For every step Jerry and the others took, Ramey took three.

The platoon leader pushed them hard, not just because they had to clear the area of the battle, but because they had to reach a good layup position before dawn. Their best option, a grove of trees close to the airfield, lay on the far side of the small village of Mollu, a little over four miles from where they’d had the fight. It was hard to estimate their progress, and the pauses didn’t help. Jerry knew they were moving more slowly than they had two nights ago, but Ramey insisted they’d be there before dawn.

In another hour, they’d have to start angling south, toward the gulf, so they could cross behind the southern portion of Mollu along the beach. The nearest structure was over 150 meters away, but Ramey wanted them to traverse the one kilometer behind the village as fast and as quietly as possible.

~ * ~

They met at the town’s hospital, which was also a morgue. Sattari was still there, bleary-eyed, and waiting for the final autopsy report. Still numb after the death of his partner, he greeted Rahim with little more than a handshake.

Rahim did not pretend to be sad at Omid’s passing. The man was an ass, and by early accounts, had managed to engineer his own demise. But Rahim did honestly tell Sattari, “I’m sorry you’ve lost your partner. We will find out who did this and punish them for their crime.”

“And you need to know what I’ve found out,” Sattari replied mournfully. “Forensics went over the area as best they could in the dark. They found a position where the enemy had hidden while Akbari and Naseri went into town. There are signs of several men wearing an unfamiliar-patterned boot, as well as one man wearing Iranian-issue boots and a woman’s civilian shoes. They picked up their spent cartridges and there was no sign of other trash, so we can assume they are professional solders with good field skills.”

Sattari paused for a moment, then reported. “That’s all we could find out in the dark. Their forensics man will be back out there tomorrow morning at dawn.”

“One man?” Rahim asked. “Let’s get him some help.”

“Yes, sir,” Sattari answered tiredly. “I’ll call the police captain.”

“No, I’ll have Dahghan make the call.” The young agent behind Rahim nodded and hurried off.

“Are you officially taking over this case, Major?”

“This has always been my case, Agent Sattari. Omid didn’t want to work with me. He wanted to humble me by making an arrest himself. I don’t know if he deserved to die for that, but it was obviously not the correct approach. Will you work with me to catch these traitors and whoever’s helping them?”

Sattari nodded. “For Omid’s sake, if no other. I don’t know their exact crimes, but now they’ve killed my partner and four Basij soldiers.”

Dahghan came back. “The police commander says he will get more forensics people from the surrounding towns. I also have the coroner’s report.” He offered it to them. Sattari took it, but Rahim said tiredly, “Just tell me what it says.”