Steve crouched and mentally ran through his mental index of options. Avoid this crossing spot? Chances were that helmet-head had friends up and down the rest of the coast road. In this location, Steve now knew the watcher’s location. Should he try to kill him? He rejected that option for now. He didn’t want to take the soldier’s life. Helmet-head was doing his job. Not well, but he was doing his duty. Taking him prisoner was out of the question. Could he be tied up and left hidden somewhere securely out of sight until after the exfiltration was complete?
Steve moved closer. He was on the left side of the vehicle when the jeep radio crackled with a man’s voice in Farsi. Helmet-head responded. When he heard the man put down the mic, Steve stood up and stuck his Glock in the driver’s face, putting his other hand over the driver’s mouth. Steve glanced in the back seat to make sure that the driver was alone.
Then he said, “Not a sound,” removing his hand from the man’s mouth to mime zipping his own lips. “Or you’re a dead man,” he added and made a cutting motion across his throat.
Clearly stunned, the soldier nonetheless seemed to be weighing his chances. A semiautomatic weapon rested on the seat next to him, and he had a holstered pistol at his side. Steve, keeping the Glock pointed at his head, took a step back and pulled the driver out of the jeep. He then motioned for him to drop the belt holding the holster.
The driver obeyed, his eyes wide. Steve then motioned for him to lie on the ground, face down. One eye on his prisoner, Steve searched the jeep and found oily rags under the seat and cord on the floor of the back seat together with fruits and kebabs in a paper bag, and enough paraphernalia to suggest that his prisoner used the back seat as his pantry, his clothes closet, his tool chest, and his garbage can. Steve tied him up, stuffed rags into his mouth, and applied a sort of electrician’s tape around his head and mouth. He then rolled him under the jeep and headed back to where Ali and Mike were waiting.
He found Ali cleaning Mike’s burns and applying new ointment. He told them about his prisoner and their new method of travel. At that instant, Kella returned and said, “I didn’t see anyone or anything, except that there seems to be a path on the other side of the road heading down toward the beach.”
Ali said to Steve, “You’re right that we could use the jeep. What about the bikes?” He ran his hand over his machine’s smooth and warm metal.
“What about them?” Steve asked. “They’ve done us a great service, and now it’s time to ditch them. You can drive the jeep, wear the helmet, and if we’re seen, we’ll look like an Army vehicle. It’s still a bit dark. That’s still a help. It’ll be easier for Mike also.”
Delaying a decision, Ali said, “Well, let’s go see your jeep and prisoner.” They mounted the bikes and headed toward the jeep.
* **
As the night receded, so did the wind and the waves. Duncan and his boat were well into Iranian waters and able to accelerate their approach to fifty knots. The coxswain was directing the RIB straight for the Nayband Park beach, a daylight shot of which he had on his computerized screen.
Duncan still couldn’t see land but knew it was nearby. He received a message from his headquarters. “We’re starting to see some activity at Bandar Abbas and at Abu Musa. Wouldn’t be surprised if they were getting ready to put out a bunch of fast boats.”
The P-3’s were loyally reporting the state of play on the Gulf as the sun prepared to make its appearance over Iran’s Zagros Mountains.
* **
Steve and Ali had cut the baby in half. Steve drove the jeep with Mike, Kella, and their prisoner; Ali followed on his beloved bike. They travelled on the paved road looking for a path down to the water that Ali said was closer to the pickup point than the one Kella had seen. Before they could made their turn toward the beach, a helicopter that was patrolling the road spotted them and came down to inspect. What they saw must have been puzzling: one of their jeeps with one of their drivers, followed by a motorcycle. It was still not light enough to identify anyone. The chopper turned inland and gained altitude before coming back at them with their spotlight on this time.
Steve made a right on the beach-trail going as fast as he dared. He still had the night goggles which helped. He hoped that the spotlight was the chopper’s only weapon. Unfortunately, this time around, a soldier fired at them from the aircraft’s open cargo door.
* **
Duncan first spotted the Iranian chopper on his Combat Information screen, transmitted from a circling P-3 maritime surveillance aircraft. He told one of his crew to man their fifty caliber machine gun. When the chopper started firing, Duncan nodded to his machine gunner. Before the chopper could make its turn inland for another run at the fleeing Americans, the chopper had exploded in the air and was falling in a bright, smoking yellow flower.
* **
Steve stepped on the gas and heard Mike and Kella bounce around in the back. He knew that Kella was trying to keep Mike from being tossed, but he heard Mike scream. They reached the beach and saw Duncan’s boat waiting twenty feet offshore. Three SEALs were already overboard and running toward
