moved very slowly, maybe he could fool them into thinking he had been hit. He gradually brought the cell phone up to his chest and carefully slipped open the face, trying desperately to hide the light. He managed to push the speed-dial number for Teymour’s phone, and even heard it ring once. But that was the last thing he heard as a bullet sliced through his skull. The phone dropped onto the sand, a concerned voice emanating from its speaker, “Hafez? Hafez? Hafez, can you hear me? Hafez!”
By the time Sattari arrived eight minutes later, the Americans and their precious Iranian cargo were almost five kilometers down the road. Fazel drove with the lights off, using the night-vision goggles they had obtained from
15
TASKING
“Would you care for more tea, Major?” asked Badar. The elderly cleric lifted the teapot and offered to pour more steaming liquid into Rahim’s cup.
“You are most gracious, Mullah Badar. Yes, please,” replied Rahim politely. What he really wanted was more information on the missing patrol, but he had to be patient with the old man who insisted on being a good host to one as important as himself.
The drive to Bandar Tahari, while short, had been exceptionally pleasant. The sun hung low in the cloudless sky, an accompanying soft warm breeze from off the gulf beckoned him to stop and appreciate life. Under different circumstances, Rahim would have allowed himself the luxury of enjoying the trip. As it was, he barely noticed the ancient castle of Sheikh Nosouns, an eighteenth-century fortress seated high up on a hill that dominated the village’s skyline. His mind was elsewhere. All his abilities and energy were focused on killing the traitors and their likely American allies.
Rahim’s phone call to Moradi as he left Kangan was short and to the point. The Pasdaran had to be mobilized. If American commandos were indeed on Iranian soil, as he strongly suspected, the Basij were not adequately trained or equipped to handle such an adversary. General Moradi was not keen on ordering the mobilization without just cause. If he didn’t have a good reason, he had said, it would only draw unwanted attention, attention that could interfere with their operation. There had to be a tangible justification to declare a mobilization. One based on a clear threat to the Islamic Republic.
Rahim knew exactly what Moradi was hinting at over the unsecure phone. If he wanted the Pasdaran to become fully engaged, Moradi needed a bone to throw to the rabid bureaucratic dogs. One that would get their gaze focused in a different direction, away from Natanz. Reluctantly, Rahim acquiesced and agreed that Moradi could display his prize.
The general sounded extremely pleased, and said he would order the mobilization immediately. He also reassured Rahim, saying that it would take a little time to arrange the proper media spectacle. It wouldn’t be until tomorrow morning before the world would learn of the foreign invaders. As the signal weakened, and almost as an afterthought, Moradi informed Rahim that the navy had agreed to send one of their Kilo-class submarines into the Persian Gulf to try and find the American submarine.
Content that all the pieces were being put into play, Rahim concentrated on how to deploy them to best effect. To do that, he needed to find the enemy. To find them required information on where they had been, and when.
“I do not wish to seem rude, Mullah Badar, but time is of the essence. What additional news have you found concerning your missing patrol?” prodded Rahim, as he took a sip of tea.
“I see that you are a man of action, Major. My apologies for not sensing the urgent nature of your visit. Here is my brigade’s report on this incident.” Badar handed Rahim a folder with several sheets of paper and a folded map. The report was neatly written and referenced the local map that had been liberally annotated. “We have found no trace of the patrol led by Corporal Molavi. He is an army veteran with some combat experience and is one of my best fighters.” Badar spread out the map and highlighted their patrol route with his wrinkled hand.
“They were one of three patrols along a twenty-five-kilometer front on Highway 96. These patrols roamed between two established security checkpoints, here and here, ten kilometers on either side of the village. Molavi and three new privates had the early morning shift.”
“Were there any reports of suspicious activity from the checkpoints or the other patrols?” queried Rahim.
“No, Major. Everything seemed very quiet.”
“What measures have you taken to locate this patrol?”
“Molavi’s patrol started their shift promptly at midnight. When they failed to muster at 1600 the next day, we went to each of their homes and verified that they had not returned after their shift was done at 0600. We then conducted a thorough search of the village and along the highway. We found no trace of the four men or their vehicle.”
“Their vehicle?” Rahim asked with interest.
“Yes, my Basij only have two small cars available, so we asked for help from the local people. Private Salani’s employer had a medium-sized van that could easily hold four, and he graciously allowed us to use it. It has also vanished. The details on this van are on the third page of the report,” explained Badar.
Rahim turned to that page and noted the van’s make, model, color, and license plate number. There were also several photographs. Excellent.
The mullah’s description of Molavi also reinforced his suspicion that Akbari had help. He glanced at his watch. They could have had up to eighteen hours if they’d jumped the patrol early in their shift.
“Major? Major, I asked if you have any other questions?” Badar had apparently repeated himself.
Startled by the loudness of Badar’s voice, Rahim was pulled from his musings. “My apologies, Mullah. I was just evaluating the information you provided. I have no further questions, but should some come up in the future, I will be sure to contact you immediately. You’ve been most helpful, and a most gracious host. However, I fear I must depart so that I can analyze this information further. May Allah’s blessing be upon this house.”
“May Allah guide you in your investigation, my son,” responded Badar, pleased by Rahim’s compliments.
Dahghan was sitting across the street, watching the last bit of sunlight fade, when he saw Rahim emerge from the house. He quickly jumped to his feet and trotted over to the car.
“Was the meeting with the mullah useful, sir?” he asked.
“Actually, yes. Yes it was. I want you to put out an alert for the van that is described on page three of this report. I believe the traitors commandeered the van after eliminating the Basij patrol that was using it,” answered Rahim, satisfied. He handed the folder to his assistant and climbed into the car.
Dahghan took the folder and placed it in his case. After getting into the car, he turned to Rahim and said, “Where to next, Major?”
“Back to Kangan. I have a lot of thinking to do, and I need to speak with Tehran again.”
“Sir, you’ve had almost nothing to eat today, and you ate sparingly yesterday as well. I suggest you get something to eat here. There is a nice cafe up the road. I can order us something while you make your call to
