Larry Bond - Exit Plan

“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.”

“All five died of gunshot wounds.” He held up a small plastic bag. “This is one of the bullets he recovered. It’s 7.62mm, but not from an Iranian-issue rifle. Without seeing one of the cartridges he can’t be certain, but he thinks it a NATO-standard round. And ballistics indicates at least three different rifles, although some of the bullets were too damaged to be properly examined.”

“That’s good work, Karim.” The information was useful, even if it was bad news. At least three professional soldiers were with the two traitors. It reminded him of that old joke about lion hunting: It wasn’t hard to catch one; the problem was, what did you do after that?

Sattari’s cell phone had beeped during Dahghan’s report, and now he checked the display. “It’s the Bandar Abbas office,” he remarked as he called back. Any call from them was VEVAK business, and at this hour, had to be important.

His expression had been serious, but as he listened, it changed to shock. After only a few moments, he said hurriedly, “Wait. Just tell Major Rahim. He won’t believe me.”

He handed the phone to Rahim, who looked to see if anyone was nearby, then pressed the speakerphone button. “This is Rahim,” he said quickly.

“I’ve received a radio message from Colonel Yavari. He commands the Pasdaran garrison at Bandar Lengeh. He says that he received word of a battle at one of the roadblocks earlier this evening on Highway 96, near Mollu. Proceeding to the roadblock, he found many of his men killed, along with a burned-out army truck that matches the description of the one you are looking for.”

Rahim felt his spirits rise, but when the speaker didn’t continue, they dropped just as quickly “Let me guess. There was no sign of other bodies — foreigners, or a woman’s?”

“I’m sorry, sir, that was the whole message.”

“Where is Mollu?” Rahim asked Sattari.

“It’s a very small town. Ahh, I’d have to look at a map. No more than eighty kilometers,” he stammered.

“And the roadblock is closer than that,” Rahim said. “Come on. We can be there in an hour.” He looked at Sattari’s expression. “Dahghan will drive.”

7 April 2013

0130 Local Time/2230 Zulu on 6 April

Between Bustaneh and Mollu

It was sixty-eight kilometers by the odometer when they were waved to a stop by a pair of heavily armed soldiers. Rahim’s uniform and identity card quickly got them past the barrier, and directions to the colonel’s command post.

Colonel Yavari was young for a colonel, almost too young for a lieutenant colonel. His hair and beard were jet-black and cut short. His headquarters tent was set up a short distance from the “battlefield,” where there was room to park the troop trucks and ambulances that were still being loaded.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Yavari demanded angrily. Rahim’s identification didn’t impress him, and actually made him even angrier.

“Are you the one who sent my men out to their deaths? An entire squad is dead, and it’s your fault.” Yavari reached for his sidearm as he spoke, taking a step toward Rahim.

“You lost an entire whole squad? Twelve men?” Rahim’s tone was incredulous, but he added enough contempt to make it clear who he thought was at fault.

“If you’d bothered to tell us who or what we were fighting, my men would be alive right now.” Yavari actually had his weapon out of its holster, and was bringing his other hand up to work the slide.

“Colonel, please,” Dahghan almost ran over to stand in front of Yavari. “We’ve just come from Charak, where we’ve been investigating the last attack. We still don’t know everything, but we’ve got a few answers.”

“Who attacked my squad?” demanded the colonel. Curiosity joined anger, but he didn’t put away the pistol.

“We know at least three professional soldiers, probably with NATO rifles of some kind, are traveling with the two fugitives, one of whom is a Pasdaran captain.”

Yavari, eyes wide, almost laughed. “Four armed men — wait, you said ‘at least’ four men. Well, that explains everything!” His sarcasm was biting. “Come with me!” Striding out of the tent, the three VEVAK agents hurried to keep up. Almost running, the colonel reached the pavement and walked west.

They’d set up work lights on either side of the highway, but the harsh beams showed only debris and destruction. Yavari pointed to a splintered traffic barrier. “This is where they set up the checkpoint. We knew any lawbreakers would ignore it, so the ambush was laid out beyond, with a mortar registered on the road, and a machine gun set up there.”

Still walking, he pointed to the right, past the hulk of a burned-out truck, still smoking. “A marksman was up there with a sniper rifle.” He pointed to a hill on the left. “Sistani’s men were arranged here.” He swept his hand in a line along the road. “See where they dug fighting positions?

“After the truck ran the roadblock, Sistani’s men opened fire, driving it off the road. My men have counted over a hundred bullet strikes on the vehicle. Somehow, whoever was in the truck survived an RPG hit, and got out after it tipped over. We found tracks down to a depression where the enemy took cover. Sistani’s men charged them, but were defeated. Look at this.”

The colonel led them to the left, behind the squad’s firing line, to a shallow pit, which Rahim realized was actually a crater. A shattered 60mm mortar lay in the depression. “The dead soldiers, may Allah grant them peace, have been removed, and most of the weapons have been collected, but I told them to preserve the entire area until we can examine it in the daylight. Remember the machine gun I mentioned? It looks much the same. Sistani’s transport” — he pointed—”is over there, also destroyed.”

He turned to face Rahim. “Tell me again how only four armed men did this. They must have possessed heavy weapons.”

His face was half-shadowed, but Rahim could still see Colonel Yavari’s anger plainly. “I personally called Sistani” — he growled while pointing to himself—”and warned him when I heard about the fight at Charak. He was a good officer. We received a radio message from him when the shooting started, but nothing after that.” When he’d started speaking of his lieutenant, the anger began to fade. By the time he was finished, the colonel was drained, the anger replaced by an equally strong sense of grief and loss.