Dahghan opened the door and stood back. A small man wearing a black turban and a brown, sleeveless cloak over his white robe waited for a moment, then came in, smiling. He was only a little older then Rahim, but his white beard gave him an air of great dignity. The black turban marked him as a descendant of Mohammed.
Rahim stood.
“I am Mullah Hamid Dashani, leader of the mosque and commander of the Kangan Brigade of the Basij.”
“Thank you for coming, Mullah Dashani. I am Major Rahim, from the Ministry of Intelligence and National Security.” Shaking the cleric’s hand, Rahim bowed his head slightly, and motioned to the chair on the other side of the desk.
Sitting, Dashani smiled broadly. “You have created quite a stir, Major. My Basij are at your service. In fact, they are already mustering, in advance of your orders. I think we may even have a few new volunteers.”
Rahim sighed. “I had hoped to investigate this matter quietly.”
“This is a small town, Major. Word spreads like lightning. A helicopter? A missing Pasdaran officer? I saw the pictures of the couple when Dahghan questioned my two men from last night. Are they mixed up with smugglers? Murderers? Or are they spies?” The cleric was still smiling.
“Please, Mullah Dashani. I cannot tell you any details, for obvious reasons, but I need your help.”
The major’s manner became more serious. “And please, no more speculation. I need checkpoints set up along the coastal highway and other major roads, as well as an increase in the number of patrols along the coast highway. I will also need, dedicated teams walking all the beaches north and south of the city. They should look for signs of a recent landing, or boats in unusual places. All foreigners must be stopped and questioned.”
“We could give you several checkpoints, each manned by four men. And four-man patrols walking the beaches. And we can ask the police for more vehicles.”
The cleric paused, and Rahim could see him calculating. “Normally we have just one patrol on the beaches, and another on the highway. We can do what you ask for a short while, but my brigade can only muster about fifty fighters. Many of them will have to miss work while we are mobilized. Should I ask some of the other brigade commanders for assistance?”
“No, please do not. It should only be for a few days. And tell your fighters that they are not to speak of this matter.”
Dashani nodded knowingly. “I understand.”
“And we need to increase the number of boat patrols, with some in close to shore, and others farther out.”
“This can be done. I am on very good terms with the Pasdaran naval commander here. I will coordinate closely with him.”
“If your men do find this couple, they should apprehend them, but it’s important that they be taken alive. Can they do this?”
“Of course. My boys are energetic. What they lack in skill, they make up in devotion.”
“There will be no pitched battles, I promise.”
They arranged the locations of the checkpoints and communications procedures, and the mullah left, excited and eager to “send his fighters into action.”
Captain Guthrie had been expecting to get a final brief on the rescue mission, but the plan was to wait until sunset to make a go/no go decision.
Instead, Frederickson had summoned him early, and he hadn’t sounded happy.
“We started to hear increased traffic on the naval circuits earlier today. It took some time to find out if they were reacting to something specific, but there hasn’t been any mention of a specific contact or an intercept.” Frederickson sighed. “But boat patrols have stepped up their coverage by over fifty percent.”
“Any pattern?”
“Yes, sir. But it’s not one we can exploit. There are too many boats out there now.”
“What if we shorten the run — say, close to six nautical miles?”
Frederickson fought to hide his surprise. “And disobey a direct presidential order?”
“It’s merely a
“Oh, well, in that case — it wouldn’t help, sir. There are way too many patrol boats. Besides, that isn’t our only problem.”
He gestured to an operator, who called up images on the briefing screen. “This is why I called you. This is the beach where the rendezvous took place.”
The UAV image showed the now-familiar beach, but Guthrie saw men in a ragged line, slowly walking over the landscape. “They’re searching for something,” he said.
Frederickson smiled grimly. “I don’t think they’re looking for seashells.”
“This is seriously not good. Why that beach?” Guthrie asked, but the answer was obvious. “Correction — Is there any way that this is
The SEAL lieutenant frowned. “There has been no activity in that area since our people left last night.”
“Other areas?”
“Nothing that we’ve seen, yet. They drove up in a couple of vehicles and began systematically searching the beach. We’ve got traffic on the road, people moving near structures, but this is the only organized activity near the shore within the UAV’s field of view.”
“Well, whoever they are, it’s obvious we can’t execute the pickup on that beach, or the secondary one down the coast.”
“They can’t stay there forever. My bet is that they’ll leave when they’ve finished their search, sunset at the latest. It’s really hard to search in the dark.”
“That’s not the real issue.” Guthrie countered. “Why are they there? Are the Iranians looking for our people? If so, how much do they know? How hard will they look?”
“Increased boat patrols, search parties?” Frederickson asked. “Less than a day after our guys landed on that beach? There is no other logical conclusion. The Iranians are looking for our people.”
“Then can we afford to have them sit tight? How safe is their hiding place?”
“Matt Ramey’s good, Skipper. I’ve walked within a few meters of his position and I didn’t spot him. But hiding’s what you do while you’re waiting for something to happen. If we can’t go in to get them, then hiding’s not the right thing to do.”
“We need a new plan,” Guthrie concluded.
“We’re improvising at this point, Skipper, but we’ll work up something.”
“I know a few things about staying covert myself. This is just like submarine warfare, but on land. The enemy has a datum, and they’re searching. The tactic is to clear datum quickly and quietly. Don’t let them get a better whiff of you, and get outside their search radius.”
Frederickson nodded. “Understood. Give me fifteen minutes with the rest of the platoon.”
The call came early. They weren’t supposed to make a go/no-go decision until after sunset, and that wasn’t for another half hour. Jerry knew it had to be trouble. He took the handset from Lapointe.
It was Guthrie. “XO, we have to scrub the recovery mission. There are people carefully searching your beach, and the boat patrols have increased this afternoon.
Jerry’s heart sank. Automatically, he answered, “Understood, sir. Do you have a recommendation?”
“Get out of there. Head northwest to Bushehr and find a boat. It’s Frederickson’s recommendation and I agree. Put Lieutenant Ramey on and I’ll give him the details.”
Jerry had turned the handset so that Ramey and Lapointe, both now close by, could hear. The others had seen his face and heard his tone. He passed the handset to Ramey and said to the rest, “The recovery mission’s scrubbed. They’re looking for us.”
