Larry Bond - Exit Plan

“Missile strikes,” Rahim said abruptly.

“What?” Sattari had asked the question, but they all looked at the major with the same puzzled expression.

Rahim explained, “You are right, Colonel, I apologize. I have not told you everything about this case because I did not make the connection. There is an American nuclear submarine off the coast, right out there somewhere.” He pointed toward the water. “The traitors attempted to contact it several days ago. It could have fired missiles to support its countrymen when they were attacked.”

The colonel straightened up a little. “It is nice to know we are not fighting supermen. A soldier’s most dangerous weapon is a radio.” Dahghan and Sattari were silent, more surprised by Rahim’s apology than his idea of a submarine firing missiles.

“We can find them and beat them,” Rahim insisted. Looking around him, he said, “We have to, after this.”

“Colonel, I’d like to come back to your headquarters with you. We must plan how to reestablish the roadblocks. We will bring in reinforcements, and I want security increased throughout the region.”

7 April 2013

0500 Local Time/0200 Zulu

East of Mollu, West of Bandar Lengeh

Jerry called it an oasis, though there weren’t any palm trees. It was still the most verdant spot he’d seen since coming to Iran. The trees and shrubs were thick enough so they could walk into them and not see the other side.

Ramey had already worked through what they would do when they reached the layup. There would be no rest — not for a while, anyway.

The SEALs and Jerry picked a spot in the densest part of the vegetation and stowed their belongings. The others helped Yousef off Fazel’s shoulders and laid him in a sheltered spot, then made up a pallet for Shirin close by. She gratefully collapsed onto it.

For half an hour, they set up fighting positions, added camouflage to the existing foliage, and did their best to remove evidence of their approach to the location. In the early morning twilight, Ramey surveyed their positions to make sure they were invisible.

With their location secure, they examined the place, finally picking an area open toward the water, but completely hidden by trees from the landward side. While Jerry, Ramey, and Phillips dug, Heydar Fazel washed the body. There was no white cotton for the shroud, so he dressed Yousef in his Pasdaran uniform, complete with his pistol and gun belt, and wrapped him neatly in blankets. The four then laid him in the grave facing southwest.

After the body was in place, Jerry and the others added Yousef’s rifle. “When you get to Paradise, you’ll have an honor guard,” Ramey said.

They filled in the grave while Shirin and Fazel prayed. Clutched in Shirin’s right hand was one of the epaulets from Yousef’s uniform, along with the fragment of her father’s flight suit.

7 April 2013

0700 Local Time/0400 Zulu

1st Regiment Headquarters, 47th Salam Brigade, Bandar Lengeh

There was no love lost between VEVAK and the Pasdaran, but Yavari had accepted Rahim’s authority, especially after a 0400 call from the general commanding the southern region. The general was placing two additional regiments and a mechanized infantry company under Yavari’s command. Advance elements would arrive by that afternoon. Helicopters, both transports and gunships, would start arriving tomorrow. This was all because of orders received from Tehran, the general explained.

There’d been no time for sleep. The colonel’s staff and the VEVAK agents created a new net of roadblocks, centered on the site of the last battle. While they presumed that the fugitives were still headed toward the east, roads leading west were guarded as well.

The colonel’s deputy, Major Seddigh, brought welcome news while they were still finalizing the plan. “Two of the fugitives are wounded, at least.”

All work stopped and they turned to hear his report. “When the sun rose, our men searched the battlefield and found bloodstains on the ground. One patch was by the burnt-out truck, and another, larger one, was in the depression where they rallied. They also found wrappers from bandages.”

“Were there any indications as to which way they went?” asked Rahim impatiently.

“Not that we could tell, sir,” answered Seddigh. “We didn’t find any tracks heading to the south or the east, and there has been too much traffic to the north and west making it impossible to identify boot patterns.”

“Any evidence that they concealed their tracks?” pressed Rahim. The thought of losing his prey again was maddening.

“We didn’t see anything suspicious, Major. Unfortunately, the terrain on either side of the highway is very rocky. It wouldn’t take much to eliminate their footprints.”

Rahim rubbed his hand through his hair; the enemy had been wounded, but they had also disappeared right before their eyes. Again.

“So, what you’re telling me is that we’ve lost them?”

“It would seem so,” conceded Seddigh.

7 April 2013

0900 Local Time /0600 Zulu

Bandar Lengeh Airfield

The airfield lay almost in sight of their hideout, but everyone, even Ramey, agreed that they had to get some sleep. After a small meal, the three ambulatory SEALs each took an hour of lookout duty while everyone else slept. It wasn’t completely refreshing, but Jerry had heard enough stories about SEAL training to know it would help.

Jerry asked to stand watch as well, but Ramey turned him down without explanation. Given their fatigue and frayed nerves, he didn’t push it.

After they’d rested, Ramey helped him prepare for their reconnaissance. In addition to leaving their packs behind, the SEAL lieutenant had Jerry take off anything that reflected light, and double-checked Jerry’s tactical vest for items that might make noise. As they prepared, he drilled Jerry on patrol techniques. “Watch me. When I crouch, you crouch. If I drop to the ground, you drop. Don’t wait for me to tell you, sir.”

“Understood, Boss,” Jerry answered. There was no warmth in Ramey’s tone, but that was okay, because this was business. He was in his element, and the lieutenant was indeed “Boss” for this patrol.

Jerry knew that Ramey didn’t really want him along, but he needed to get a pilot’s eyes on the airfield. They couldn’t make a plan without it.

Ramey was especially cautious leaving the layup. While getting spotted at any time would be disastrous, being seen now would reveal everyone’s position, and with Lapointe wounded, it would be almost impossible to escape pursuit.

The lieutenant moved slowly, and Jerry did his best to copy his movements, even stepping where the lieutenant stepped whenever possible. They hugged the line of trees and bushes for as long as they could.

Just east of the copse was a small farm, with cultivated fields just turning green with new crops. They moved to the north, bypassing scattered buildings, some looking abandoned, others occupied.

Jerry spent a lot of time on his stomach behind trees or low brush. When they crossed open ground, they sprinted, but only after Ramey was convinced the coast was clear. Twice they had to detour around farmers out in their fields. They crawled, climbed, and dashed from cover to cover. Finally, Ramey found a dried-out streambed that wandered through trees up to Highway 96. Although he was in good shape, Jerry was almost breathless when they reached their goal some four kilometers away.

Luckily, they didn’t have to go all the way to the airfield. There was a rise to the west that provided enough cover, as long as they low-crawled their way to the top. The hill not only saved them some time, but as far as Jerry was concerned, the only decent way to look at an airfield was from above.