Christ, who’d be a peasant farmer?

  Then the truck swerved off the highway, bumped over a rubble-strewn strip of concrete, and Zeke stopped. Nolan climbed down and took a look. It was a workshop or warehouse with high, double doors. Like the buildings around it, they all had the look of abandonment. Talley climbed down.

  “This should do it. Help me get these doors open, and we’ll get the truck out of sight.”

  Will jumped down to help. The doors were held shut with a flimsy padlock. He gave it a kick and it sprung open. They dragged the doors aside, and Zeke drove in. He switched off the engine, and they closed the doors. They’d made it, this far. They were out of sight of the Iranians, and it seemed as if their luck had at last changed for the better. The vast, open space had obviously been a warehouse during better times. The whole structure was built of wood, and there was a dilapidated staircase that went up to an office, overlooking the entire building. At the bottom of the staircase was a row of clothes pegs, with a half dozen ragged overalls hanging there. A sad reminder of the men who’d once made a living in this place. Fed their families and maintained their dignity. Nolan couldn’t stop himself yawning. He felt an overwhelming sense of depression.

  Is that our fate, to be strung up like these old overalls?

  He had a picture of them gasping out their last from ropes strung from cranes in the main square of Mashhad, or even Teheran. Human sacrifices to the colossal Iranian religious deception that ran every aspect of life in what had once been the proud and ancient nation of Persia. He shook his head, realizing he was desperately tired. It was a moment of weakness, that was all. Not a problem, he’d been tired before. If they had to fight a running battle that night to get out of Iran and over the border, he’d need every resource he could muster.

  We’re not going to hang, no way! It’d take more than this sorry bunch of camel jockeys to back us into a corner there's no place a squad of Navy Seals can’t get out of. He walked over to Talley.

  “Boss, I don’t know about you, but I’m all in. I guess we all are. I’d suggest we take it in turns to get some sleep.”

  “You’re right. Tonight will be the big one. So far, they’ve come after us piecemeal. They won’t make the same mistake again. We’ll have a brigade of troops on our heels. They could send in the works, attack helicopters, you name it. Set a sentry rota, and make sure there’re two men on watch at all times. I’ll take first go. I need to check out a few things first.”

  Nolan nodded. “Sure thing. I’ll ask Dan Moseley to join you. You think we’ll get out of here tonight?”

  Talley stared at him. “With half the Iranian armed forces on alert? What do you want me to say? You want an honest answer?”

  Nolan shook his head and went to find Dan. It was about what he’d figured.

  We’ve got this far by a miracle. Do miracles come in pairs? Because we’ll need another one to get much further.

  * * *

  They slept in the back of the truck. Mitra had cordoned off a corner for herself and Meir. At the back of the truck, Vince dozed, holding his rifle loosely. Occasionally, he awoke, glanced around, ratcheted a round in and out of the breach, and then went back to sleep. They were all on edge. Close by, Dave Eisner, normally taciturn, a man who kept to himself, murmured quietly to Dan Moseley and Mullah Kareem. Will kept an eye on Brad, making sure his wounds didn’t bring up anything unexpected. The big, black senior petty officer and the junior PO with the beach boy looks often seemed closer than blood brothers. Even Zeke had fallen asleep, and Nolan wished he could join him. He felt terrible. The huge stresses of the mission had left him feeling physically and mentally drained. He needed to rest, a few hours sleep, yet he couldn’t.

  * * *

  “Kyle!”

  Christ, Carol, she’s reaching out for me. Where the hell did she come from?

  “Kyle, help me, please. I need you, hurry!”

  “But, you’re back in San Diego? How did you get here to Iran? What are you doing?”

  “I came to help you, Kyle, but they’re coming for me.”

  “Carol, I can’t see you. Where are you?”

  “I’m close. I have to go, Kyle. Call me. They’re coming. I can’t wait any longer.”

  And then he saw her. She was being chased.

  Son of a bitch, it’s that bastard Abdul Hussein. He’s trying to kill Carol!

  “Carol! I’m coming! I’m nearly there!”

  He ran, faster and faster, yet he couldn’t seem to close the gap. And Hussein was nearly on her. He turned and saw Nolan, and he laughed, a deep, mocking laugh that chilled his blood.

  “Kyle, call me. You must call me, otherwise I won’t get back. Don’t forget, call me!”

  “But how can I call you? Carol…”

  “Kyle, help me.”

  “Carol!”

  * * *

  “Chief! Are you okay?”

  He stared up at the face of Vince Merano.

  “What happened, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing. It’s 1800, and you’ve been asleep. For the past hour, you’ve been shouting, but I didn’t want to wake you. I wasn’t sure, you know…” he tailed off.

  Yeah, I know. Vince thinks I might have had another blackout. Maybe I did, maybe not.

  “Where’s Talley?”

  “I’m here.”

  Nolan saw his head peering over the top of the tailgate.

  “Uh, okay, Boss, I’m coming down. We need to get the men together and talk about getting out of here tonight.”

  “Sure,” the Lieutenant nodded tiredly.

  “Didn’t you get any sleep?”

  He smiled at the Chief. “Not much, no.”

  They gathered around Nolan in a half circle, looking at him curiously. Mitra had helped David down from the truck, and she was forcing him to work his limbs and get some circulation moving again. Mullah Kareem slid down carefully, easing the stiffness out of his old joints. Talley nodded.

  “Go ahead, Chief.”

  “Yeah. Where’s Will?”

  “He’s upstairs. He found a handy place at the top of that old staircase to keep an eye on the road.”

  “Right. First off, what’s your plan, Boss?”

  “Plan?” Talley smiled. “Head for the border and hope no one notices, that’s about it.”

  “You think that’ll get us through?”

  “We’ve alerted the military garrison for the entire northeastern side of Iran. They’ll be hunting for us with everything they have, so no, it’s not a good plan. We’ve been lucky so far. We’ve only come across isolated units and been able to take them out, but now, the moment we start shooting, they’ll send everything they have to finish us. We can’t stay here. We have to take our chances and get out. We’re low on everything, ammo, equipment, even food. We haven’t eaten properly for days. We’re on our own, and we have to run for the border tonight.”

  “That’s what I thought. We need help, air support to get us through, right?”

  The Lieutenant laughed. “Yeah, we need air support. And we aren’t going to get it. You planning on calling up a couple of Reapers, Chief?”

  Nolan nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting, yeah. We get out as planned, and if we hit any strongpoints of resistance, we call in air support.”

  “Right. Except we haven’t an encrypted satcom. Other than that, it’s a good plan.”

  “Right. So we call them.”

  “Call them? How?”

  “We’re heading into town, yeah? This Bakharz place? I say we find ourselves a cellphone that’ll connect into the local cell towers. Ideally, a satphone. In a place like Iran where the cell towers are very few, they must be pretty common.”

  “Some of my father’s worshippers had satellite phones,” Mitra interjected. “They showed them to me. They were always so proud of owning the latest technology. I do not think it would be difficult find one of these phones in a large town.”

  “Okay, so we call our people, make contact, and use the line of communication to direct air support onto any opposition we hit on the way out. It’s not perfect, Boss, but it’s better than we’ve got now.”

  “Fuck yeah, that’s damn good, Chief. We’ll do it.”

  “Boss!” Will came running down the creaky wooden stairs. “Company, there’s an Iranian Pasdaran column coming down the road from the direction of Mashhad. Looks like they’re headed for the town, or maybe they’re going on to beef up the border. Either way, we ought to be ready for ‘em.”

  Talley nodded. Suddenly, his face that had lit up with hope looked tired again.

  “Okay, you all know what to do. Get the civilians in the truck and set up a defensive perimeter.” He looked at Nolan. “It was a good idea, Chief, bit it looks like we’ve run out of time.”

  “Maybe not. If they’re heading into Bakharz, why don’t we join ‘em?”

  Talley shook his head as if he didn’t believe what he’d just heard.

  “It’s a bit late to start learning Persian, Chief.”

  Chapter Eleven

  They waited in the truck. Zeke had the engine running. Dan Moseley and Brad Rose stood by the sliding doors. The long column slowly moved past, led by an SUV command car. Truck after truck followed, together with APCs, armored cars, two artillery tractors towing 122mm howitzers, Russian built D30s. They counted forty-six vehicles in total, an entire regiment on the move. At last, the final vehicle in the convoy, a mobile canteen, drew abreast of their hiding place and cruised slowly past.

  “Go, go!”

  Dan and Brad were already sliding the big doors aside, and they jumped aboard the back as Zeke eased the big truck out into the open and onto the highway. He drove the Kraz up behind the mobile canteen and slowed to keep behind them. What could be more normal, a Pasdaran truck bringing up the rear of a Pasdaran convoy? Zeke and Talley had removed their vests and half-helmets, and donned a set of the old overalls they’d found in the warehouse. It wasn’t Pasdaran issue, but the ragged, dirty garments were better than MARPAT camouflage and armored vests. They watched the houses and buildings of Bakharz become more numerous as they headed into the center of the town. People started to appear on the streets, men in an assortment of clothing, women in black robes, their heads and in most cases their faces covered, so only their eyes were visible through slits in their veils. Zeke found a convenient side street, made a fast right turn, and they were on their own. He drove down the street a couple of hundred yards and abruptly jammed on the brakes. Talley came on the commo.

  “We’ve got something of a problem, Chief. They’ve stopped in the town square. Maybe they’re reinforcing the garrison here.”

  “Shit. We can’t go back. It would look suspicious. We need to find somewhere to park up until we can work out what they’re up to.”

  “Yeah, there’s a derelict factory up ahead. I’ll ask Zeke to drive in there.”

  The truck lurched forward along the potholed street, and Zeke drove through an open gate into the yard of a factory. It looked like an abandoned steel mill. The buildings were all half dismantled; probably the locals had stolen the materials to repair their own houses. The truck halted inside a huge building, like a man-made cave. There were no doors, but they were screened by a rusting blast furnace, shrouded with pipes and conveyor belts. They climbed down, and Talley assigned Merano and Rose to take the first watch. He called Nolan over to decide on their next move.

  “This whole damn town is all derelict shops and businesses. It’s like the damned rustbelt,” he commented. “At least it gives us a few places to hide.”

  “We can’t stay here for too long,” Nolan replied. “It could be they’ve brought those troops in to search the town. I’m going out there to take a look. We need to know how things stand. If the troops are moving out, we’ll leave when they’ve gone. But if they’re staying, that’s a whole new ball game. Besides, we need that phone. I’ll have to try and find a store that’ll sell me one.”

  “I will go.” Mitra had come silently behind them. “I know this town. I have been here many times. I can go anywhere without being noticed, and I know the kind of place to locate a phone. Here in Iran, it can arouse suspicion, buying a phone. They think that anyone buying a cellphone, especially a satellite phone, may be a spy.”

  “I’m not happy, Mitra. If they have an APB out for you, you could be spotted and arrested. These Pasdaran guys are not very happy right now, and they could execute you on the spot.”

  She smiled. “Many Iranian women carry a chador just in case it’s needed. Our religious police can sometimes insist on them. One moment.”

  She delved into her purse and pulled out what looked like a bundle of black rags. She shrugged into them, holding the front closed with her hand. Suddenly, she was no longer Mitra Kareem. She was just another anonymous Iranian woman, impossible to pick out from a thousand like her. Talley nodded.

  “Point taken. Except that if they set up checkpoints, you’ll have to show id. I doubt you carry a spare set of documents with that fancy outfit.”

  She shook her head. “I hadn’t though of that, and it would be noticeable if I was alone.”

  “We could still use her,” Nolan said. “I’ll put one of those overalls on and go with her. If she runs into any trouble, I’ll be able to help her out of it.”

  “You don’t even look Persian,” Talley objected.

  “That’s true.” He looked at the girl. “If I wore a set of overalls, and my face was dirtied up, would I pass for some kind of laborer?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I think that would work. Show me what you mean, and I will tell you if I think it is sufficient.”

  He went to the truck and picked up a set of overalls, big enough to fit over his camo kit. He removed his armored vest and webbing, but it was still too tight over his camo kit. He removed his jacket and pants and tried again. This time it fitted. He went to the open furnace door and scooped out a handful of black ash from inside. Nolan rubbed it over his face and hands and returned to Talley and Mitra. Mullah Kareem and David Meir had dismounted from the truck, and they stood watching as Nolan waited for Mitra’s approval. But she shook her head.

  “No, I’m sorry, but you just don’t look like an Iranian laborer. I don’t know what it is, but it’s just wrong.”

  “He needs something on his head,” Kareem muttered. “No Iranian laborer working outside for most of the day would go bareheaded.”

  He pulled a piece of cloth out of a pocket in his coat. “This is a piece of cloth that can be used in a number of different ways. I use it to wrap over my turban when there is a sandstorm. If I fold it so,” he went on, “it becomes the kind of headgear worn my millions of Iranians to keep out the sun.”

  He put it on Nolan’s head, and Mitra nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, that’s perfect. He looks very Iranian. You can carry a bag or a box; as if it is something I have just bought. That way, it will arouse less suspicion.”

  Dave Eisner brought over a wooden crate, almost square and slightly wider than two feet. “It’s the only thing we had in the truck that’s unmarked.”

  Nolan picked it up. The box was empty. But most importantly, there was space for his weapons. He tucked the Sig Sauer inside his overalls, making certain there was room to draw it quickly in a hurry.

  “I need an HK416, something that’ll fit in here.”

  Dave’s HK416 was strapped to his chest, and he unslung it.

  “This’ll fit in there. I’ll collapse the stock. If you need to use this baby out there, I doubt you’ll need to worry too much about accuracy.”

  With the stock folded, the assault rifle fitted well. Dave removed the remaining spare clips from his webbing and stashed them in the box with the rifle. Mitra, still covered from head to toe in the black robe, inspected him carefully.

  “You won’t arouse suspicion looking the way you do, Kyle. Perhaps we should leave now. It may take time to find the kind of store we require.”

  Talley nodded. “She has a point. We’ll keep an eye on things here. If we have any problems, make sure you keep that earpiece in, and we’ll call you. And call us if you need backup.”

  * * *

  They walked through the streets toward the square. Nolan wasn’t happy about heading for the square that would be crowded with troops, but Mitra insisted they needed to head for the main shopping district, and it was in the same area. He walked along behind her, feeling totally vulnerable in the unfamiliar clothes. His face was filthy, covered in greasy soot, and men ignored him, some looking at him with contempt. He was a lowly laborer. Most of the women were veiled. It was impossible to measure their response. In general, he was satisfied that all they saw was a poor laborer and didn’t look beyond the disguise to see what lay underneath.

  Maybe this will work.

  “Mitra, have you any idea…”

  “Be quiet!” she hissed. She nodded ahead. A pair of soldiers had stepped out of a café and were looking up and down the street. He put his head down and went past; ready to snatch out the Sig if they showed any sign of asking for their papers. But they looked right through him, not even noticing the ragged man carrying the wooden crate.

  “It’s okay. I didn’t want them to overhear us speaking English. There is a street just across the square, and we should find what we want there. Most of the shops sell electronic goods, stereos, televisions, and cellphones. Hopefully, satphones.”

  “Across the square? Is that a good idea, can’t we go around it?”

  “We’re heading for a side street. It skirts the square. But there will be many soldiers around, so be careful.”

  He grinned.

  Be careful, what does that mean? Not sing ‘America the Beautiful’? Maybe ask a passer-by directions to the nearest MacDonald’s?