Larry Bond - Exit Plan

“There’s the tower. Let’s stop here.” Ramey hopped down from the car as it rolled to a stop, his rifle already sweeping half the horizon. Phillips repeated the lieutenant’s actions on his side. They were both using their night-vision scopes.

They opened the rear doors, and Jerry and the two SEALs almost tumbled out of the backseat, gratefully stretching. The SEALs quickly found their gear in the trunk and reequipped themselves. Jerry, still unfamiliar with the equipment, fumbled in the darkness for a moment before getting it right.

Phillips reported, “There’s a cut in the hill off the right. It looks like a good spot to hide the car.”

With his scope, Ramey completed a quick sweep of the terrain. He couldn’t make out a lot of detail, but what he could see told him the ground was rough, hilly, and rocky. There were numerous dunes and shadowy gullies interspersed with more solid-looking rock outcrops and tufts of vegetation. Good ground, he thought to himself. Turning, he looked where Phillips was pointing. “Good, and there’s level ground leading up to it. Keep a watch to the south, Philly.”

Phillips trotted off in the direction they’d come from, while Ramey and Fazel walked over to speak with the two Iranians. Jerry hurried over to join them, but Ramey didn’t wait for him. “Doc, tell him we can hide the car here and look for cover. This is a good location. We won’t have to break cover until the CRRC’s halfway to the beach.”

While Fazel translated for Yousef, the lieutenant turned to Jerry. “I’m going to take Doc and Pointy and scout for a good hiding place for us, away from the car. Phillips will keep watch to the south, and I’d like you to stay here with the two civilians. Just back the car as far as you can into that notch in the hillside. Then sit tight.”

“Of course,” Jerry acknowledged. “Should we cover up the car?”

“No,” Ramey answered sharply. “You’d just make a bigger mess. My guys will take care of it when we get back from scouting.” Jerry bristled at the rebuke. Of course the SEALs could do a better job, but the lieutenant’s hostility was unnecessary.

Three of the SEALs disappeared into the darkness, and with Phillips on watch to the south, Jerry was alone with the two Iranians. The woman, Shirin, looked at him expectantly, and after a moment, he turned on his own flashlight.

With Shirin translating Jerry’s directions, Yousef backed the battered sedan slowly into the crevice. While relatively level, the ground was uneven enough to require care, or the Peykan might have gotten stuck, or worse.

At its opening, the cut was almost twenty feet wide, made by water in the steep slopes of a barren hillside. Jerry tugged and rolled a few large rocks out of the way to clear a path for the car, but the gap was deep enough so that the car was completely inside, with almost a full car length separating it from the front.

Once he’d made sure they could still open the doors and that there was a clear path out, Jerry stood near the opening, staring into the dark and hoping that he wouldn’t see anything. Behind him, Yousef folded a blanket to make a place for his wife, and helped her sit. She drank some water from a bottle he carried, then leaned back against the wall of the crevice.

Still watching, Jerry picked his way over to where the two sat. He asked Shirin, “Are you hungry? I have some MREs.” Seeing her expression, he explained, “Some field rations — food.” Taking off his backpack, he found a plastic package and offered it to her.

She looked over to her husband and spoke. He answered by nodding, and she said, tentatively, “I am a little hungry.”

Jerry had to open the outer package with his knife. Working by feel, he found something that felt like an energy bar and tore open the wrapper. She accepted it, and tasting it, nodded her appreciation. Jerry handed the rest of the package to Yousef, who sorted through the contents, asking Shirin and Jerry about the labels and ingredients.

A few minutes later, Jerry thought he heard something, but before he could react the three SEALs were back. Instead of a scouting report, Ramey asked, “What are they eating? Is that one of your MREs?” His tone was harsh, like a parent catching a child in some offense.

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Jerry emphasized the second word slightly, “I thought it might be good for them to eat something.”

“No ranks, sir,” Jerry heard Ramey’s emphasis on the last word. “We can’t leave any trace of our presence. A piece of an MRE package would be a dead giveaway we were here. Please police the area carefully. The only thing I’m willing to leave behind is our footprints, and I wish I could avoid that.”

“Right,” Jerry replied, being careful to keep his voice neutral. “Did you find a place?”

“It’s about a kilometer from here, but it’s ideal. It’s a small cave, but it’s big enough for all of us. It’s got overhead cover and has a good view of the approaches.”

The SEALs went to work hiding the car. Each carried a section of camouflage netting. They combined these into a single piece large enough to cover the car, then added brush and rocks to break up its outline.

Yousef and Shirin stood to one side. She was leaning on him, and although their expressions were hard to see, his arms encircled her protectively. Jerry could also sense defensiveness in his posture, his watchfulness of not only the activity with the car, but the other SEALs as well. He didn’t trust them, not yet anyway.

Ramey took his time to step back and check their work from several directions, but they were still done in a few minutes. “Let’s get away from here,” he ordered over the headset. “Diamond formation.”

Jerry and the two Iranians were quickly corralled in the center of the formation, following Ramey. The other SEALs screened to the back, and both sides. They set off at a brisk pace, but had to slow when first Jerry, then Shirin, stumbled on the uneven surface. Grudgingly, Ramey promised to follow a smoother path.

There was enough starlight to see the ground, but not enough to reveal every obstacle. Yousef was especially solicitous toward his wife after her near fall, but she waved him off.

It was impossible to gauge distance in the dark. Jerry thought of counting footsteps, but his stride across the landscape was too irregular. He decided it would be best to just concentrate on watching Ramey ahead of him and picking his footing based on how he moved.

How far was a kilometer? Better than half a mile. In the dark? On an unfamiliar landscape? After a bone-chilling hour-long swim? He definitely hadn’t planned on this when he’d gotten up this morning. He was breathing hard, and felt like he’d already run miles.

He wasn’t the only one showing signs of fatigue. Shirin was moving more slowly, now leaning heavily on Yousef. The SEALs seemed unaffected by the evening’s intense physical activity.

Jerry marveled a little when he thought about the husband. A captain in the Pasdaran. They were supposed to be Iran’s shock troops, politically reliable and completely devout. What had turned him against his own service?

He tried to focus on the plan. They’d hole up tonight and tomorrow, then Michigan would launch a CRRC. They’d break cover once it was en route, meet on the beach, and an hour later they’d be back aboard. They were in a bad spot, but they hadn’t been detected, and they had a plan.

Ramey motioned for Lapointe to go ahead; he ran to the cave and did a quick inspection. Jerry heard his report in his headset. “It’s still clear, Boss.”

A low line of hills loomed ahead, and they retraced the SEALs’ earlier path. Turning right toward a high bank, then following it back, they came to a place where Lapointe stood next to a large shadow on the side of the bank.