“We could always pull out. There’s nothing stopping us.”

  “Except that if he’s telling the truth, the movers and shakers behind that weapons program are across the street. If we get out now, they’ll set up again, and this time we may not get lucky and locate their site until it’s too late. No, we have to keep going.”

  Nolan nodded. In front of them, he could see another sound stage, relatively undamaged, with wide, open double doors. Large enough to take the vehicles. He nosed inside, and the truck followed. Immediately, the men jumped down and began closing the doors. Even with the doors slid shut, the space was well lit; a big chunk of the roof had collapsed and was lying in a heap on the ground.

  “What’s the fuel situation?” Talley asked Will Bryce.

  “I checked just before we reached here, and we’re about a quarter full.”

  “Not enough to get us to the border.”

  “No, I guess we’ll need gas, or another vehicle.”

  “Chief, what about the SUV?”

  “About a half full. It’d probably make the border, provided there are not too many detours of off-roading. Otherwise, who knows?”

  “Understood. We need gas, that’s for sure. We’ll find a way to top off the tanks before we leave, that’s priority. Second priority, we all need some rest. Chief, set up a sentry rota. I’ll take first watch. It’s just after 1500 now. We’ll get together at 2000 and decide how we’re going to play this. We have two objectives, to gas up the trucks and to take out those two characters. Then we get out of this shithole and hightail it for the border. We’ll work out the details when we’ve had some rest.”

  Nolan found a place to lie down, close to the SUV. He was exhausted; they all were. Yet his sleep was not peaceful. The dreams came, and he tossed and turned, thinking about his dead wife, Grace. About Carol, back in San Diego, helping to care for his kids. And then Mitra, dear God, had they taken her? She’d be suffering, and it would be bad.

  Kyle, save me, help me, please!

  Mitra!

  These people were animals, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He pictured the Pasdaran, had taken, soldiers with faces like wild animals, slavering wolves, hyenas, and then it was Carol they had taken. She was screaming as they came for her, ripped her smooth, creamy skin until it hung in bloody shreds from her body, and she screamed even more.

  Oh, my God, Carol! I’m trying to get to you. Hold out, just a bit longer. I’m coming, Carol…”

  “Chief!”

  He started to wake up slowly. His vision was blurred, and there was a loud buzzing in his head, like someone was using a motorized saw. Someone was there, a guy with an assault rifle. Jesus, they’d got inside, and there were more of them, gray shadows, a few yards away.

  Who are they? What is this place?

  His guts churned, and his vision became even more blurred, as if he’d taken a hallucinogenic drug.

  Have they captured me? Is this an interrogation? Carol!

  But her agonized face faded to black.

  “Chief!”

  He looked up and looked for his rifle, but it was only Talley, standing over him. He couldn’t speak. Something was wrong, badly wrong, and he worked hard to control his frantic breathing, to calm his racing brain.

  “Yeah, what is it?”

  He tried to keep his voice normal, but he knew it shook. Talley knelt down beside him.

  “You were screaming, as if, I dunno, I guess you were having a nightmare. Christ, you were out of it for a time. How do you feel now?”

  “Feel? I’m okay, yeah. Is it my watch yet?”

  “No. I want you to take it easy. You’ve had a bad experience. I want you rested when we go in tonight.”

  He argued, but Talley was adamant. In the end, to satisfy him, he pretended to lie back and rest. But his mind went back to working in overdrive. He knew exactly what had happened. Another blackout, brought on by stress. Thank Christ this time it hadn’t been quite so bad. If they ever found out the truth, they’d bench him for sure.

  “How do you feel, Mr. Nolan?”

  He opened his eyes. Mullah Kareem stood over him. His face was badly bruised, but Abdul had worked miracles on most of the cuts, and the bleeding seemed to have stopped. He was supporting himself on a piece of round timber that looked like a broken broomstick.

  “I’m fine, thanks. But shouldn’t you be resting?”

  “I have rested enough for now, and these old bones need to move around. But I came to ask about you.”

  “Really, I’m okay.”

  “You cried out the name of my daughter, Mitra.”

  Oh, shit, he heard me.

  “Yeah, I was dreaming, I guess.

  Kareem stared at him. His expression was unreadable, and Nolan waited.

  “I was young once, Mr. Nolan.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “So there is little that surprises me, little that I either do not know or cannot guess at.”

  Nolan nodded and waited for him to continue.

  “She is there.”

  He lay there for a few moments more, digesting what the guy had said. Then he jerked up and jumped to his feet. His head swam for a few seconds, and he staggered. Kareem held his arm to steady him until he was sure of his footing.

  “Where?” But he already knew.

  “In the Pasdaran barracks. That is where they would have taken her.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “I am sure, believe me. I would ask you one favor; a favor that I believe you would be very disposed to grant me. When you go in there tonight, find her. Save her, and bring her back to me.”

  “She, er, I guess if she’s there, yeah, I’ll do my best.”

  “Bring her back to me, Mr. Nolan. If she means anything to you, do not leave her there.”

  He looked up and saw the Mullah was staring at him with eyes that were suddenly not the eyes of an old man. They stared at him with the heat and strength of hundreds of years of fanaticism, of living the hard, desert life, of power and determination. He almost wilted beneath the gaze.

  “I’ll bring her back to you, Kareem.”

  The old man nodded and walked off, back to where the Israeli, Abdul Hussein, waited a short distance away.

  * * *

  “We go in at 2200, that’s in two hours time,” Talley told them. He’d drawn a simple plan in the dust, and it occurred to Nolan that before the introduction of high technology, briefings would have been conducted just like this. “We have those Iranian uniforms. I want Dan Eisner and Zeke Murray to dress as Iranian soldiers and distract the guards while we take ‘em from behind. They’re designated Bravo Four.”

  “We could use the sniper rifles,” Vince pointed out. “That would be quick and clean, and no need to dress up.”

  “And if someone hears the noise as their equipment drops to the ground, we’re in the shit before we start. We’ll do it the old-fashioned way, a simple ruse-de-guerre. Mullah Kareem had been inside the barracks, in his role as local Mullah, and has identified the commander’s quarters. It’s here,” he pointed with his stick to a rectangle in the dust. “A two story house, and we’re pretty sure our targets will be on the first floor.”

  Nolan stared at the plan.

  And Mitra will be on the second, if she’s there at all.

  “We head straight for that house, and kill everyone inside. It needs to be quick and silent, which is what we’re all trained to do. And here’s the important part. We have to identify the targets, Mohammed Saradi and Colonel Mahmoud Radan.”

  “How the hell will we know who they are?” Brad asked him.

  “Take a prisoner and ask him. If you do it right, they’ll be more than glad to help out.”

  Brad smiled. “Got it.”

  “Vince, I want you to find a good place inside the barracks and keep us covered with that rifle of yours. If there’s any sign of trouble, we need you to silence it before the whole place erupts. You’re Bravo Three.”

  He nodded. “Understood, Boss.”

  “Chief, I’ll take two men in to search the first floor. You take another two men to take the second floor. You’re Bravo Two. Zeke, I want you to look around quietly and locate a couple of vehicles to get us out to the border. Remember, they need to be gassed up. If we run out of fuel halfway there, you can push us the rest of the way on your own.”

  He smiled. “Copy that. If there’re any vehicles with full tanks, I’ll find ‘em.”

  “Good. So that’s it. With the exception of our two Iranians, Dan and Zeke, black up. This’ll be silent and invisible, except you, Will,” he smiled. “No offense.”

  “None taken. I’ll white-up for daytime operations.”

  Talley grinned. “You do that. We can’t make any detailed plans, as we don’t know what we’re up against in there. But they shouldn’t be expecting us, and with any luck, they’ll be in process of getting to bed. Those guys get up early. I gather their day starts at five. That all about covers it.”

  Unless Colonel Parviz has double-crossed us. It would sure give him Brownie points to help capture a squad of Navy Seals, Nolan thought.

  He shot a skeptical look at Talley, who nodded. He knew the risks; they all did. But what else could they do?

  * * *

  Five minutes before the start time, they crouched inside the front gate, out of sight of the Pasdaran sentries across the street. Zeke and Dan, dressed as Iranian soldiers, had ducked out the back way to loop around the front as if they were on a routine patrol. There was a worry about the HK416s, but at night, it wasn’t likely they’d be noticed. Talley checked his watch for the tenth time and nodded. Time to go. Then he stiffened and stopped. The men whirled, their guns ready. A man was running toward them, threading his way through the wrecked lots of the studio. He held up his hand to stop them.

  “What the hell is that? Don’t shoot, let’s see who it is.”

  And then a dark shadow detached itself from behind the building they’d been hiding in and began to pursue the first man. They passed between two buildings, an open space and for a brief moment, the rays of the emerging moon lighted them both. And Nolan recognized them.

  “Jesus Christ, it’s David Meir. And Abdul Hussein, he’s going after him.”

  They waited in frozen silence, unable to risk making any noise that would alert the nearby barracks. Abdul was fast, much faster than the older, less fit Israeli. They saw a flash of light reflected in the moon’s rays, and a huge, curved knife stabbed down into Meir’s back. He fell to the floor, and Abdul glanced at them. Then he stabbed down. Talley and Nolan ran over to where he stood, breathing heavily over the body. Nolan checked Meir’s neck, but the pulse was very weak.

  “He’s only just alive.”

  “What happened here, Abdul? Why did you try to kill him?”

  Talley waited for the Arab to calm his labored breathing enough to reply.

  “He was a traitor. He’d been passing information on to the Iranians.”

  “Yeah, we wondered about him. Something wasn’t right.”

  Nolan stared at Abdul’s face, his eyes. He looked shifty and defensive. Why? Surely Meir had been the leak, otherwise why had he run out on them and taken off across the desert? He’d exaggerated his injuries so that he could stay in the background and avoid suspicion. But why did Abdul look so guilty? And there was something else there. Fear. Of what? Nolan looked down at Meir again and saw something in the man’s hand, a piece of paper. He stooped to pick it up and stood to read it. Abdul held out his hand.

  “Here, let me, it’s probably written in Hebrew.”

  Nolan looked closer. “It’s okay, some of it’s in English. I’ll use my flashlight.”

  He took his small flashlight out of his pocket and switched it on. The paper was a fax, the quality very poor. He looked closer at the jumble of lines and saw it was a photograph. The text underneath read, ’Per your request, IDF photo ID Abdul Hussein, October 2010’. Talley was looking over his shoulder at the image.

  “It’s supposed to be Abdul Hussein, but it doesn’t look anything like him.”

  “It’s not,” he looked up. “Abdul, grab him! Stop him, shoot the fucker!”

  Nolan had been standing next to him less than a minute before. Now he’d disappeared, and there was only darkness, wrecks, and silent buildings.

  Chapter Nine

  “He’s gone.”

  Nolan glanced at Talley. “Yeah, he’ll run straight back to his buddies. We’re out of time. We need to go now, right now! Are Dan and Zeke in position?”

  Talley nodded. “You’re right, we have to hit that barracks before that little fucker warns them.” He called for Kareem to come over to where Meir lay unconscious. “You’ll need to look after this man while we go into the barracks.”

  He grimaced. “He is truly related to Golda Meir?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Kareem smiled. “I never thought the day would come when I would assist one of that family, after what they did to the Arabs. But times have changed. Never fear, I will make sure he is safe.”

  “Do that.” He keyed his mic. “This is Bravo One. Are you in position, Bravo Four?”

  “Affirmative. Ready when you are.”

  “Stand by.”

  He took a last look around and across the street. It all looked peaceful. He keyed his mic.

  “Bravo One to Four. Take ‘em down.”

  They watched Zeke and Dan walk up to the gate. The sentries, wearing Pasdaran camo uniforms, stiffened. But there was no shout of alarm. They were relaxed with their rifles slung on their shoulders. They glared at the new arrivals, just the normal distrust of Pasdaran for regular army, but there was no sign they suspected anything amiss. One of them shouted a challenge, a question. Dan waved and pointed up the street toward the city. The sentries looked around, and the two Seals moved in closer. They were almost up to them when one of the sentries sensed something and whirled, simultaneously unslinging his rifle. Zeke stepped close to him, a combat knife flashed, and he pulled the man in toward him, holding him up. Even at a distance, they could see the line across his throat, and the blood that flowed down over his tunic. The other sentry gaped in astonishment, but it was his last surprise. Dan clamped a hand over his mouth, and with the other, slashed across the man’s carotid artery. A spray of blood jetted out, and Zeke had to jerk to one side with his victim to avoid it. They bundled the bodies through the gate into the barracks to hide them in some dark corner. Then they transmitted the all clear.

  “This is Four. We’re clear, you can come on in.”

  “On the way, Bravo Four.”

  Talley nodded at them, and they ran across the street and through the gates into the Pasdaran barracks. Zeke and Dan followed them in and stripped off the Iranian uniforms. Night actions were no place to be wearing enemy uniform; accidents happened too often. Zeke ran off to locate suitable vehicles to make their escape. Nolan looked around. There was no sign of anyone. The place looked almost deserted. Lights streamed from some of the windows, but most were dark. In front of them he could see their target, the Commander’s house. There was no guard out front, which was surprising.

  “Vince, are you in position?”

  His earpiece crackled. “I’m here, got a good view. I’m set up on top of a truck cab about forty yards in front of the target.”

  Nolan looked across the open ground and saw a single truck parked next to a fuel pump. There were several fuel barrels on the ground. It looked as if the vehicle was waiting to be refueled in the morning.

  “I see you. I can’t see a sentry outside that house. It looks odd. Maybe he’s gone inside for a piss, but watch out for him. There has to be a guard somewhere.”

  “Copy that.”

  He took a last look around and nodded to the waiting Seals.

  “It looks clear. Let’s go.”

  They ran across the open yard and reached the front door of the house. Talley drew his Sig Sauer with the suppressor fitted to the barrel, and put his hand towards the knob to open it. But before he got there it opened, and a soldier stepped out. Talley pressed the trigger, and the slug took the man in the throat. He hit him with a second tap as he was falling backwards, then he rushed forward and lowered him gently to the floor of the hallway. He looked around inside and nodded to the men waiting outside. They went in.

  They listened for a short time and heard the sound of music coming from a room at the back of the house. There was no noise from upstairs. Talley nodded to Nolan.

  “It looks like they don’t know we’re here. Go on up and check the upstairs rooms. We’ll see who’s in back. Remember, our principle targets could be anywhere in the house. And we need a prisoner to identify them. So let’s move.”

  Nolan ran up the stairs; Dan and Brad followed him up. All three had their rifles shouldered. Their sound-suppressed pistols were in their hands, ready to use. The procedure for checking the rooms was one they’d done many times before. Dan covered the landing. Nolan opened the door and rushed in, going left. Brad was right behind, going to the right. The room was empty. They went out to the landing just as the door opposite opened. A soldier was exiting the bathroom.

  “Don’t shoot him!” Nolan snapped, as three pistols aimed at the guy’s head. The man’s face went pale, and he stood still, rigid with fear. Nolan gestured with the barrel of his Sig, and the guy’s hands went up. They pushed him back into the bathroom and closed the door.

  “Do you understand English?”

  The man nodded eagerly. “I can speak some English very good. Please, Sirs, do not kill me. I help you.”

  “Yeah, I thought you might. Mohammed Saradi and Colonel Radan, can you identify them for us?”

  He looked worried. “Why do you want me to do this? Do you mean to kill them?”

  Brad leaned forward and took the guy by the lapels of his camo jacket. “If was you, feller, I’d worry about us wanting to kill you.”