room to park the troop trucks and ambulances that were still being loaded.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Yavari demanded angrily. Rahim’s identification didn’t impress him, and actually made him even angrier.
“Are you the one who sent my men out to their deaths? An entire squad is dead, and it’s your fault.” Yavari reached for his sidearm as he spoke, taking a step toward Rahim.
“You lost an entire whole squad? Twelve men?” Rahim’s tone was incredulous, but he added enough contempt to make it clear who he thought was at fault.
“If you’d bothered to tell us who or what we were fighting, my men would be alive right now.” Yavari actually had his weapon out of its holster, and was bringing his other hand up to work the slide.
“Colonel, please,” Dahghan almost ran over to stand in front of Yavari. “We’ve just come from Charak, where we’ve been investigating the last attack. We still don’t know everything, but we’ve got a few answers.”
“Who attacked my squad?” demanded the colonel. Curiosity joined anger, but he didn’t put away the pistol.
“We know at least three professional soldiers, probably with NATO rifles of some kind, are traveling with the two fugitives, one of whom is a Pasdaran captain.”
Yavari, eyes wide, almost laughed. “Four armed men — wait, you said ‘at least’ four men. Well, that explains everything!” His sarcasm was biting. “Come with me!” Striding out of the tent, the three VEVAK agents hurried to keep up. Almost running, the colonel reached the pavement and walked west.
They’d set up work lights on either side of the highway, but the harsh beams showed only debris and destruction. Yavari pointed to a splintered traffic barrier. “This is where they set up the checkpoint. We knew any lawbreakers would ignore it, so the ambush was laid out beyond, with a mortar registered on the road, and a machine gun set up there.”
Still walking, he pointed to the right, past the hulk of a burned-out truck, still smoking. “A marksman was up there with a sniper rifle.” He pointed to a hill on the left. “Sistani’s men were arranged here.” He swept his hand in a line along the road. “See where they dug fighting positions?
“After the truck ran the roadblock, Sistani’s men opened fire, driving it off the road. My men have counted over a hundred bullet strikes on the vehicle. Somehow, whoever was in the truck survived an RPG hit, and got out after it tipped over. We found tracks down to a depression where the enemy took cover. Sistani’s men charged them, but were defeated. Look at this.”
The colonel led them to the left, behind the squad’s firing line, to a shallow pit, which Rahim realized was actually a crater. A shattered 60mm mortar lay in the depression. “The dead soldiers, may Allah grant them peace, have been removed, and most of the weapons have been collected, but I told them to preserve the entire area until we can examine it in the daylight. Remember the machine gun I mentioned? It looks much the same. Sistani’s transport” — he pointed — ”is over there, also destroyed.”
He turned to face Rahim. “Tell me again how only four armed men did this. They must have possessed heavy weapons.”
His face was half-shadowed, but Rahim could still see Colonel Yavari’s anger plainly. “I personally called Sistani” — he growled while pointing to himself — ”and warned him when I heard about the fight at Charak. He was a good officer. We received a radio message from him when the shooting started, but nothing after that.” When he’d started speaking of his lieutenant, the anger began to fade. By the time he was finished, the colonel was drained, the anger replaced by an equally strong sense of grief and loss.
“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.”
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.
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
