“Okay.” Gino slung the Barrett across his shoulder and headed for the side of the roof. “I’ll meet you…” He looked down and was surprised to see a dozen Iranians headed in his direction. “Uh oh.” He pulled back, unlimbered the MP-5 he’d carried as a backup. “I’ve got company and they’ve got me cut off.”

  “On the way,” Flame had dropped his empty magazine and slammed in a new one but he hadn’t taken more than three steps when troops inside barracks two opened up on him.

  “Shit!” Flame stumbled to cover. “I’m cut off.” He looked around. “Topper! Give me claymore three!”

  “It won’t do much damage…”

  “It’ll keep their head down and give me time to get to Gino.” Flame looked back to Topper’s position. “Set it off now!”

  “Roger that.” There was a short pause. “In three, two, one…”

  Flame moved as the explosion rocked the little camp, the sound of the metal balls slamming into the barracks assuring him that he was covered.

  Nobody’s sticking a head up through that! he thought, speeding up.

  ***

  Gino was worried. The Iranians had separated and had the little brig covered from all four sides. It was going to be tough to get down. Come on, Flame! he thought, scanning the region from which he thought the big redhead would be coming. Don’t let me down!

  There was a CLUNK sound from behind him. Gino whirled to see a hand grenade bounce on the rough surface of the roof. Reflexively, he kicked the thing off and dropped flat.

  There was a dull BOOM from the ground on that side of the brig. That might work. He pulled one of his own grenades from his web gear. Maybe I could…

  CLUNK. He turned, reached for the second grenade. CLUNK. CLUNK.

  Shit! Gino pulled the pin on his grenade, tossed it over the side—and shook his head. I guess this is…

  The world went white.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Flame was just rounding the corner of barracks two when the grenades went off. “Gino!” he yelled into the earbud—but he already knew he was too late. “Bastards!” He flicked his AK to full automatic and came at the crowd of Iranian troops from the rear. Two fell before they even realized he was there—and then the rest turned in his direction.

  Flame dropped to the ground and began killing Iranians—it was something he was very good at.

  ***

  Aesop shook his head as he listened to the transmission coming from the two men who were still in harm’s way. Gotta hurry, he told himself. Get this thing into position to evac them before they get overrun.

  It was clear that no matter how efficient they were, Flame and Topper alone could never hope to stave off the hundred or so Revolutionary Guards that were now swarming out of their barracks. Hold on, Flame. Aesop avoided a deep rut and pushed down on the gas. We’re coming!

  ***

  Back in the compound, Flame rode out the blast as Topper set off their last claymore.

  “I’m pulling back,” Topper reported. “I’ll join up with you near the brig.”

  “Roger that.” Flame snapped off a shot, hitting another Iranian in the chest. “I’ve got about ten still in front of me.”

  “I figure there’s eighty or so behind you.” Flame could hear the other man chuckle. “I hope we’ve got enough ammo.”

  “Only one way to find out.” Flame took down another of the soldiers that were blocking his path to the brig. “By the way,” he said as he ejected his magazine and reloaded. “Why do they call you Topper?”

  “I was wondering when you’d ask.”

  Flame started to react as a shadow moved to his left—then stopped when he realized it was his fellow redhead, Topper.

  “It’s simple really.” The redhead settled next to Flame and fired three rounds to his left, taking down an Iranian who was trying to move into a position that would flank them. “My mother and father had eight children.” Topper fired again. “I was the eighth…” Three more rounds went to his left. “And the only boy…”

  “Seven sisters.” Flame took out a target to his right. “Tough.”

  “Not that bad.” Topper fired again, reloaded. “Anyway, when I was born, my grandfather took one look at me—his only grandson—and said ‘he’s the Topper.’” There was a brief pause while Topper tossed a grenade toward a small group of Iranians who were trying to reform. “It stuck.”

  “Simple enough.” Flame tossed one of his own grenades to the left, taking out two troopers trying to get around him. “Let’s see if we can reach the brig.”

  “On it.” Topper’s weapon went to full automatic, sweeping across the face of the brig, forcing the handful of Iranians still there to duck down low.

  That wasn’t enough to save them from Flame. The big ex-SEAL followed the cover fire and unloaded his own weapon into the four men still in his way.

  They never saw had a chance to react.

  “Okay.” Topper came up on his left. “What now?”

  “You take that side.” Flame pointed to his right. “I’ll take this one.” He nodded left. “And we hold here until Aesop shows up with our ride.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Not long at all!” The words boomed out of their earbuds as the minigun-topped Safir erupted from behind the brig. “Get aboard, while Bremby takes care of business,” Aesop said as he pushed the door open.

  “Not yet.” Flame shook his head. “We’re not leaving Gino up there.” He put his foot onto the half-finished window, used it to boost himself onto the roof. “We don’t leave men behind!”

  The minigun began to hum as Flame reached what was left of his one-time partner. You did good, man. He looked down at the other man’s still-intact and quite peaceful-looking face. Real good. He gathered Gino’s remains into his arms and stepped to the side of the building. Bremby’s stream of death was keeping the Iranians face down and Topper had grabbed a blanket from the cell inside the building.

  “Use this!” he yelled as he tossed the cover up to Flame who nodded and quickly wrapped the blanket around Gino before leaning over and lowering the body to Topper.

  “I got it,” the other man said, turning to push the remains into the back of the Safir. “Now get the hell down here so the rest of us can leave!”

  “Coming.” Flame slung the Barrett over his shoulder and swung down, dropping to the ground with bent knees. “Let’s go.”

  Topper pushed into the rear seat of the Safir, firing out of the driver-side window as Flame, snap-firing at an Iranian that had almost reached their right flank, joined Aesop in the front.

  An instant later they were clear of the base and heading back toward the border.

  ***

  “They’re clear,” Bivens reported from his position in front of the computer monitor. “Although the heat signature from one of them…” He turned to Dana. “….is fading fast.”

  “Dead?”

  Bivens nodded. “Probably.”

  “Any idea who it is?” She kept her voice level although she could feel the fear welling up inside. Flame had come to mean a great deal to her—and if he was dead, it might mean the end of their enterprise…

  “Can’t really be sure.” Bivens shrugged. “Whoever it is was on the roof of the brig.”

  “That was Gino,” Francis put in. “He was using the Barrett from up there.”

  Dana felt some of the tension loosen—although she was careful not to show it. “We’ll have to notify the admiral—arrange transport back to the States.” She touched Bivens on the shoulder. “Any sign that the Iranians are regrouping?”

  “I’m not sure.” He shook his head. “There’s something going on but with the fire and so many heat sources at such varying temperatures…” He flung up his hands. “I can’t be sure of anything.”

  “Stay on top of the situation,” she told him. “And notify me immediately if anything changes.”

  “Of course.” Bivens began working his keyboard. “What else would I do?”

  “Come on.” Dana motioned to Francis. “Let’s meet them as they come in.”

  ***

  Flame and the others were silent on the trip back across the Iranian border. He and Gino hadn’t exactly been friends—especially since the incident in Scarsdale—but they had been comrades, men fighting for the same cause and Flame grieved at the other man’s loss.

  “Anyone following?” Aesop broke the silence, slowing as the tents of their base came into view.

  “Nothing behind.” Bremby had his minigun transversed far enough to cover the rear. “I think we’re clear.”

  “Good enough.” Aesop nodded. “Fixer!” he yelled into the earbud as they closed on the camp. “How are the two old men?”

  “One’s beat up pretty good,” the marine responded instantly. “Nothing broken that we can find. Other one is still out—drugged, I think.”

  “We’re working on them,” Dana cut in. “They’ll be okay.”

  “Roger that.” Aesop maneuvered the vehicle across the last set of hummocks before they crossed onto the dirt road that led to their ‘dig site’. “You okay, Flame?” Aesop asked after making sure his earbud was off.

  “Yeah.” Flame nodded slowly. “I’m fine.”

  “We did it, man!” Aesop shook his head in wonder. “We took on a whole Iranian Company in Iran and came out winners!”

  Flame looked at the wrapped body behind him. “More or less.”

  Aesop followed his look. “Yeah.” He nodded. “I didn’t think about that.”

  “We’ll have to get him back to the world, get him a proper burial.”

  “Yeah.” Aesop nodded. “We will, man. You know we will.”

  The Safir pulled into the little camp, braking in front of the big tent.

  ***

  “You, Corporal!” Lt. Kaveh El-Mafty had emerged from his hiding place as soon as he was sure that the invaders had left. “Over here!”

  “Sir?” Corporal Fanaei had been the junior NCO in ‘B’ Barracks. He was a sound sleeper and hadn’t wakened until the second claymore went off. By that time both senior Sergeant Qazwini and his own sergeant had been killed, their skulls shattered by some very large caliber weapon.

  Fanaei had done his best to rally the troops and had almost reached the invaders when their vehicle with its frighteningly quick-firing weapon appeared. Several of his men had been killed immediately and it was only through the luck of combat that Fanaei lived to answer to his officer.

  “I want the men formed up immediately!” El-Mafty glowered at the soot-covered man. “Take a roll call—see how many we have left!”

  “Sir, Sergeant Qazwini had the pay book, I don’t know all the names…”

  “Do what you can…” El-Mafty patted the man on the shoulder. “Sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir!” Fanaei brightened at the battlefield promotion. “Right away, sir!”

  It took some time but, eventually, the new sergeant had the men lined up in some kind of order. First platoon was almost non-existent—only a handful of men had survived the onslaught and fire that had been concentrated on their barracks. Second platoon, on the other hand, was in far better shape with only about twenty percent casualties.

  In all, Kaveh thought, looking over the formation, I have about sixty men left. He knew that his superiors would not be pleased—especially when he told them that all that damage had been done by, at most, five or six Westerners.

  I cannot tell them that, he knew. At least, not until I have destroyed the men who did this and found out their secret. One that is so important they were willing to die to keep it safe!

  He turned to his surviving men. “Men—comrades—our friends have been killed, slaughtered in their beds! Has this been done by an honorable enemy—one who would face us in battle?” He shook his head. “NO!” His eyes ran across the ranks. “This was done by cowards! Infidels who came sneaking into our midst in the dead of night to strike without warning.”

  He saw a spark go through the ranks—and knew he had to stoke it. “How many of our people have the crusaders killed? How many have been stricken from the air without warning?” He saw lips tighten, faces set. “We must not let this go unavenged! We must find these men, kill them as they killed so many of us!”

  He began to walk now, packing back and forth in front of the formation.

  “We know where these men are! They are in the hire of those non-believers who have, for years, defiled our most holy sites! The men who hide their true purpose in a supposed ‘search for knowledge’!”

  He stopped and turned to face the men. “I will go after these men! I will do everything I can to avenge those who have fallen.” He looked back and forth across the ranks. “Who will go with me?”

  Instantly, the formation erupted in cries and cheers.

  They will follow me, Kaveh thought. Follow me across the border and to a final reckoning.

  Afterwards, I will return to my rightful place in the Guard—as a captain, or a major…

  Kaveh El-Mafty, who had hidden throughout the just-ended battle, smiled a satisfied smile as his men cheered his courage and leadership.

  ***

  Marmor and Raymond carried the semi-conscious Parfitt into the big tent, laying him on the central table so he could get a proper examination.

  Flame, in the meantime, faced the far unhappier task of preparing Gino for his last journey.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Flame.” Dana walked with him as he carried the body into the smaller of the tents where he was planning to properly wrap it.

  “I know.” Flame gently placed the broken pieces of the man onto the folding bunk there and pulled the cover he’d used off. The grenade had detonated somewhere behind Gino, severing his left leg at the knee and leaving the right foot in tatters. Flame tucked what was left of the foot into the blanket and carefully worked it around the body, cocooning it within the colorful wool. Quick ties around the single ankle, knees, waist and neck ensured that the covering would stay in place.

  “I’m going to leave him here for now,” he told Dana. “Until we can move him back to the States.”

  “Bivens and I already notified the admiral,” she told him. “He’ll have the proper paperwork ready.”

  “Good.” Flame stood and took one last look at his former partner. “Now I think it’s time we had a talk with the rest of the team.” He looked at Dana. “We need to be ready if the Iranians decide to finish the fight.”

  ***

  “What do you mean, it won’t run!” Kaveh snarled at the young man behind the wheel of the Safir. “It ran just fine a few days ago!”

  “It will not start, Amir.” The young private shrugged. “No matter what I do.”

  “Check the engine,” Kaveh suggested. “See if something is loose there.”

  “Ah!” The driver nodded as he propped the hood open. “Here is the problem!”

  “What is it?”

  “The distributor cap.” The man turned toward the officer. “It is gone.”

  “Gone?” Kaveh leaned forward. “How can that be?”

  “One moment, sir.” The private went to the second Safir in the big bay, opened its hood. “This one is gone as well.” He jumped down, rushed to the final truck. “This one is intact!” He faced the lieutenant. “This vehicle will run.”

  “Can you fix the others?”

  “Not without the parts.” The man shrugged. “Which we would have to order from higher headquarters…”

  “Find out what will run and what will not.” Kaveh turned away. “I want a report in ten minutes.”

  He stalked away, wondering how he could move sixty men with a single truck.

  ***

  “Do we have any more claymores?” Flame asked Bremby as the little group assembled over coffee around a little folding table that sat in front of the command and control vehicle.

  “A couple.” He shrugged. “Maybe six or eight.”

  “That’s a start.” Flame turned to Aesop. “Ammo for the minigun?”

  “I still have three tins—about another two thousand rounds.”

  “Less than a minute’s worth.” Flame shook his head. “Great.”

  “We do still have a couple of M60’s,” Bremby put in. “Each with about five hundred rounds.”

  “That’s good. Grenades?”

  “I think we have two dozen plus whatever you guys brought back.”

  “All right,” Flame sighed. “It’ll have to do.” He looked around the table. “I don’t think they’ll even think of attacking at night.” He looked at Francis. “Do you agree?”

  “They’ll want to see what they’re shooting at.” Fixer nodded. “Especially after what we did to them just now.”

  “Most of them will be on foot,” Flame told the others. “I took out two of their trucks before the shit really hit the fan.”

  “What does that leave them?” Topper asked.

  “One Safir in troop-carrying configuration, one civilian car and three motorcycles,” Fixer interjected. “That’s what they have.”

  “We’ll set up a funnel,” Aesop put in. “Meet them out in the desert; force them together, then take them with the mini-gun.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Flame nodded. “What do the rest of you think?”

  “Seems okay to me.” Topper yawned. “Think I’ll get some shut-eye while I can.”

  “Me too.” Fixer stood. “Give me a call when they start to move.”

  “You should sleep too,” Aesop told Flame. “You know you’ll be in the middle of it.”

  “Later.” He stood and turned toward the big tent. “Right now I want to see what our friends from Sinope have to say.”

  ***

  “All right, men!” Kaveh had once again called his surviving troops together. This time, rather than lining them up in front of him, he encouraged them to crowd around him. He’d seen a film in which a British field marshall had used the tactic to build morale and thought it was worth a try.