Mike went back to the back of the truck and opened a concealed compartment over the wheel well. “Ali will handle this big guy,” and he laid a Squad Automatic Weapon on the truck bed.
“Just in case you need to use it, let me introduce you. This baby is an M249, gas-operated, air cooled belt-fed with a Beta mag. It fires the 5.56 mm cartridge, and it’s set on 750 rounds per minute. Don’t change the setting.” He pointed to each part as he identified them. “Eotech Sight for fast acquisition, a laser sight, a gangster handle, and a rubberized trigger grip.”
“When you leave here,” Steve commented, “you’d make a hell of a salesman. But this looks heavy,” and he picked up the weapon. “And a minute’s worth of bullets is going to weigh a ton.”
Mike looked toward the skyline, listening for any sounds indicating that Ali was getting closer and said, “We’re not going to be walking so weight is not a problem. This SAW will give us enough firepower to take care of an entire truck of soldiers.” He paused before adding, “Our problem will come from IRGC special troops or commandos. They could come at us from any angle. You each should carry a personal weapon.”
He retrieved two Glock pistols from the truck’s hidden compartment, “Here, you can carry one of these. Two magazines each should be enough,” he said as he handed them both the pistols and the ammunition. “This is not going to be trench warfare.”
“Not trench warfare. I’m so relieved.” Kella spoke as if to herself. “Shouldn’t we be moving?” She looked into the dark, shifting weight from one foot to the next.
Mike paused and listened again. “Well, we’ve got a few minutes,” he said.
Let me tell you about this machine.” He stroked the BMW gently.
Pointing as he spoke, he said, “Each bike as two Garmin GPSs, one for the next check point and the other for the entire route. Super bright HIV lights, which will be essential off road tonight. Satellite tracker and communications, both linked to our helmet earphones. We’ve also added octane booster to the fuel.”
“What’s holding up Ali?” Kella asked.
At that moment, shots rang out just before the high-pitched whine of a bike came out of the darkness.
“That’s too close,” Mike said. “Let’s get ready. You have all your stuff?”
Again Steve checked to make sure that he had Firuz’s CDs. Mike mounted his bike, and Steve climbed on back. Mike gunned his engine, and they waited.
Ali was next to them a few minutes later, his light grey Circassian eyes like beams in the dark.
“I’ve got one motorcycle and a jeep behind me, but they’re not close. They’re shooting blind. I don’t think that they know the territory very well. Still, we should get going.”
His words were followed by the sound of vehicles. “Any changes to the plan?” Ali asked.
“No. Kella will ride with you. Makes sense weight-wise, and Steve has ridden before. Both have some experience with weapons. Here, take your big daddy.” Mike handed the SAW to Ali who slung it across his back.
Before moving forward, both Mike and Ali took night goggles from their saddle bags and put them over their helmets.
Mike and Steve headed out first; Ali and Kella, face to face with the SAW, followed.
62. Zagros Mountains
Steve found he had a difficult time keeping silent, as Mike proceeded half out of memory along a treacherous path full of loose rocks, sand, and deep folds in the ground. They stopped occasionally to listen and knew at least that there was one bike still in pursuit. A few miles further, the slope of the ground generally declined. At the top of a deep ravine, Mike instructed Steve and Kella to dismount and cross on foot.
They went down the steep embankment where, halfway down, two boards had been laid side by side. This primitive “bridge” crossed over a twenty foot ditch, a dried out stream bed excavated over time by heavy rain falls and sudden floods that occur between October and December. Steve and Kella crossed and climbed on the other side.
A few seconds later, Mike rolled down carefully and, ten feet before the plank bridge, released the bike’s power, which took it across the boards and up the rise in a difficult-to-watch few seconds. Ali followed with his own bike.
Mike motioned to Steve. “Hold on to my bike. We need to get rid of that bridge.”
Mike climbed back down on foot. As he was dislodging one of the boards from its semi-permanent home in the soil, he heard a motorcycle, but on the wrong side. Their crossing had taken too long. Although across the ravine from them, the Iranian pursuer was closer than anticipated. Looking down at Mike, he took a pistol out of his belt holster. His motorcycle’s headlight pointed down and half-blinded Mike.
Awkwardly, feeling defenseless at the bottom of his hole, Mike tried to make himself smaller as he took his Glock from the back of his belt. He aimed it up at the light and got off a quick shot. Other shots exploded at the same time. A bullet hit the board a few inches from his foot. And a burst of automatic fire flew over his head.
Suddenly, the bike at the top of the steep slope roared and the light sped down toward Mike gaining speed. In his death throe, the rider had given his machine more gas. He and his bike missed the boards and plowed into the wall on the far side, bouncing back to the floor of the ditch. Mike only had a brief glance of the rider’s bloody head as he and his machine flew past him.
“I’m going to
