Stephen England - Pandora's grave

“It’s about time Sorenson got on that,” he snorted in disgust. “What’s it showing?”

“That’s why I called, sir. We have a problem.”

“Why?” Kranemeyer demanded, irritation showing in his tones. “What’s going on?”

“The Iranians have moved a SA-15 Gauntlet on-site,” Lasker replied. “Our team’s flying straight into a trap. I need your permission to break radio silence.”

“Do it ASAP,” was Kranemeyer’s curt order. “I’m coming down.”

“Right away, sir.”

1:45 A.M. Tehran Time, September 24th

The Huey

“Thirty klicks,” Tancretti announced grimly, replacing his NVGs. “I have the bird, Jeff.”

“Roger, sir. We should be there soon.”

“What is the maximum range of your radar?” Major Hossein asked, glancing at the missile crew. It was a question he regretted not asking before.

“Twenty-five kilometers, sir. Wait a moment!” the man exclaimed, typing something into the small computer in front of him. “We have a contact, just coming into our range.”

“Identification?”

“Nothing, yet. It will take a couple of moments for the system to analyze the threat.”

Hossein watched the screen intently, waiting as the blip grew larger. “How soon can you engage?”

“Once the target is within twelve kilometers. At that point, we will switch on our fire-control radar and take them out.”

“Get it done.”

“Eight klicks out,” Colonel Tancretti announced over the intercom. “Get ready for insertion.”

Harry nodded wordlessly, looking around at his team. They were ready. It was time to do their job. To say they did not fear what lay ahead-that would have been an error. They were all afraid. Any sane man would be. But this was what they were trained to do.

“Seven klicks…”

4:52 P.M. Eastern Time

NCS Operations Center

Langley, Virginia

Lasker was waiting for him when the elevator doors opened. “Sir, we just finished interfacing our comms with the Air Force network.”

Kranemeyer transfixed him with a hard glance. “What are you telling me for? Do it, for heaven’s sake.”

“Right, sir. Follow me.”

1:53 A.M. Tehran Time

The campsite

“Another kilometer, sir, and we can launch,” the technician informed him, glancing away from his screens.

Major Hossein nodded, impatient. This was it.

The Huey

Tancretti’s headset came alive suddenly, a burst of static over the hitherto silent radio network. “Colonel, this is Danny Lasker, communications coordinator for Operation TALON.”

What on earth?

“I’m ordering mission-abort, colonel. You’re flying into a trap.”

“Say again, sir?”

“Luke, we’ve got a problem,” the co-pilot exclaimed. “We’re being illuminated by fire-control radars, type ‘Scrum-Half’, I repeat, ‘Scrum Half.”

“Roger,” Tancretti acknowledged, his mind whirling. A narrow canyon appeared in front of him and he pulled back on the control levers, forcing the old helicopter up and over…

Two 9M331 missiles rose from their launcher, accelerating rapidly as they flashed across the desert, their burning tails like a meteor in the night sky.

Kill probability: ninety-five percent.

Harry heard the conversation in the front, heard the warning, felt the helicopter lurch upwards. The ground flashed past below him, only feet away. “Out! Out! ”, he heard a voice scream, realizing a moment later that it was his own.

He grabbed Davood by the shoulders and shoved him toward the door, following a moment later. Harry hit the ground on his side, the impact driving the breath from his body, his AK-47 landing a few feet away.

Rolling over, he started to reach for it, groping blindly in the darkness. The next moment, the world exploded around him…

4:55 P.M. Eastern Time

NCS Op-Center

Langley, Virginia

Five thousand miles away, Daniel Lasker could hear the explosion over the open comm link.

“Colonel! Colonel! ”

There was no response. Only the hoarse echo of his own voice in a suddenly still operations center. The comm specialist turned to face Kranemeyer, his face a ghostly white.

“They’re gone,” he whispered. “They’re all gone .”

1:57 A.M. Tehran Time

The campsite

The major could see the explosion off in the distance, hear it reverberate through the mountains. The technician looked up from his radar screen. “Target destroyed, sir,” he reported, making no attempt to conceal his excitement.

Hossein nodded. “Good. Corporal, I want you to get off a report to Tehran. I’m taking a detachment down there to check for survivors.”

The technician’s smile was barely visible in the darkness. “I don’t think you need to worry, major. There won’t be any survivors.”

Harry rolled over on his back, blinking against the fiery glare of the explosion. The Huey had struck the edge of the cliff and then cartwheeled into the canyon, disappearing from sight. He reached down, feeling for the NVGs that hung around his neck. His rifle was somewhere, in the darkness around him.

Whether anyone else had survived, he had no idea. And that wasn’t his chief concern at the moment. First he had to recover his primary weapon and prepare for battle.

Each man of the CIA team was trained to fight alone, if need be, as well as a part of the team. Alone, they were deadly. Together, they were almost unstoppable.

But someone had managed to stop them- all of them, Harry reflected grimly. Blown them out of the sky without warning. Without a chance.

His hand touched the folding metal stock of the Kalishnikov and he pulled it toward him, flicking the safety off with a practiced motion.

He dropped to one knee behind a rock, toggling his headset mike. “EAGLE SIX to all teams. Come in, come in.”

Their radios were the latest generation of encrypted technology, eight-kilometer range, a built-in jammer to prevent enemy direction-finders from locking in on their signal. “Come in, come in.”

“EAGLE SIX, this is LONGBOW.” Thomas.

“Check, LONGBOW. Situation report?”

“Down fine. Taking up overlook position.”

“Keep your eyes open. EAGLE SIX to all teams, come in, come in.”

“SWITCHBLADE, signing in.” Davood.

“Sitrep, SWITCHBLADE?”

“Lost my rifle in the landing.” There was uncertainty in the voice. Fear. “Looking for it now.”

“Roger. Where did you come down?”

“I think I can see you, EAGLE SIX,” the Iranian-American agent responded. “Raise your gun above your head.”

“Roger.” Harry shifted the AK in his hand, lifting it briefly in the air.

“About five meters to your right.”

“I’ll be with you momentarily. EAGLE SIX to all Teams, come in, come in.”

Nothing.

“GUNHAND, FULLBACK, come in.”

The silence was eerie, mocking him. “LONGBOW, SWITCHBLADE, we have two guys out there. Any sign of them?”

5:04 P.M. Eastern Time

NCS Operations Center

Langley, Virginia

“I’m not getting any response from the helicopter, sir.”

“Thank you,” Director Lay replied slowly. “Disconnect the comm.”

He looked over at the DCS. “Do we have another way of communicating with the teams, Barney?”

Kranemeyer nodded. “Nichols is carrying the TACSAT-10, a secure satellite phone made of sterile components. The phone was assembled in America, the encryption technology was developed up at Fort Meade, but everything else is European-manufactured. It-”