The Bradley rolled over a rock. Keaton reached out to grab the chain gun. The desert stretched for as far as her eyes could see, and shimmered in the distance.

  ***

  Strike Team 3 was bivouacked on flat ground east of the ridge where the unit had spent most of three days. If all went well, the “Third,” as some soldiers referred to it, would be rolling east in a matter of hours. In the meantime, Finn was meeting with supply officer Lieutenant Jim Emery, and Air Force TACP officer Lieutenant Linda Pinnick, about the impending airdrop. They were standing in a patch of shade thrown by an awning, and staring at the image on a shared laptop. The freeze frame was courtesy of a Raven UAV.

  “It’s going to be a low-level extraction,” Pinnick said, as she tapped the screen. “And, if everything goes according to plan, our supplies will land here.”

  Finn eyed the grubby finger and the terrain under it. The C-27 J Spartan prop planes couldn’t land the way the C-17s had during the insertion because, while the drop zone was unquestionably flat, it was also cut by deep gullies.

  “Yeah,” Emery said in response to Pinnick’s comment. “But how often does everything go according to plan? And, even if it does, I’m worried about how long it will take us to collect, sort, and distribute all the goodies.”

  Finn shared the supply officer’s concern. Strike Team 3 needed to move quickly in order to catch up with the bombs. So preplanning was essential. His eyes made contact with Emery’s. “How many fuel bladders are you expecting?”

  “One in each drop.”

  “Okay,” Finn said. “I want you to preassign vehicles to each bladder. That will prevent a free-for-all. We’ll fill the tanker truck last. Do the math and figure out how to ensure it won’t be forced to visit more than one bladder. How about the rest of the stuff?”

  “I requested that they pack all the ammo, parts and food for each vehicle separately,” Emery answered. “And each box or crate will be labeled with the name of a vehicle. So, once we know where a particular package is located, we’ll send the correct vehicle to collect their supplies.”

  “That’s outstanding,” Finn said. “Well done. Linda? What can we expect from your people?”

  “Four 27s were allocated to us via the Intra-Theater Airlift Request System,” Pinnick replied. “And the 2nd Sustainment Brigade was in charge of rigging the loads. They’re good. Damned good. So, I’m sure everything will be strak (tight).”

  Finn eyed the sky—the place from which good things would fall. But there weren’t any airplanes to look at. Just vultures. Circling his command.

  ***

  The SWORD OF ALLAH crushed a sun-bleached camel skull and spit pieces out the back as the Bradley completed a loop. The final loop. Because the vehicle’s commander had orders to explore up to three miles out and return to camp. And that was fine with Keaton. It was getting hot. Too hot to sit on steel.

  Then she saw a glint of reflected light. From a shard of broken glass? Or a piece of metal? Either was a possibility. The team had passed all manner of wrecks, litter strewn campsites, and the remains of a light plane during the trip from Natanz. But what if?

  Keaton stood, made her way over to the commander’s hatch, and had to shout to be heard. “I saw a glint of light over there, Sergeant … Let’s take a look.”

  There was no way to know what the Saudi noncom thought about women who had tattoos, wore khaki shorts, and ordered men around. Nothing good most likely. But Keaton didn’t give a shit. Not so long as al-Fadel did as he was told.

  The Bradley turned and churned toward the area where the glint of light had been. Keaton was looking for a full-sized SUV and there was none to be seen. But what if it was sitting in a gully? Or partially hidden by a sand dune?

  But as the Bradley drew closer it became obvious that the Mercedes wasn’t there. Keaton was about to give up when she saw another glint of light. She ordered al-Fadel to stop. The reporter was certain as she slid to the ground. Certain that she’d seen something.

  As Keaton drew closer, she knew what had caught her eye. She was looking at two shiny toe caps, attached to a pair of fancy cowboy boots, both poking up out of the sand!

  And, who wore cowboy boots? Doctor Larry Beech, that’s who. So where was the Mercedes? Had the physicist wandered away from the vehicle during the storm?

  Keaton summoned Sergeant al-Fadel who went to work with a shovel. It took less than a minute to uncover the man’s face. It was Beech alright. Who, judging from appearances, had been shot in the face. “Get on the radio,” Keaton ordered. “Get ahold of Major Finn. Tell him what you saw.”

  Al-Fadel hurried away leaving the shovel behind. Keaton went to work clearing more sand. That was when she came across Vahid Nouri’s body. And saw that he’d been shot as well. Keaton had seen a lot of dead bodies by then. And thought she was inured to it. But the raw meat, the gleaming bone, and the stench brought her breakfast up.

  The vomit had been buried by the time al-Fadel returned. “The major is coming,” al-Fadel said. “You found another body. Is that Vahid?”

  “I think so,” Keaton answered. “Did you know him?”

  “A little,” al-Fadel admitted. “He was okay for an Iranian.”

  Finn arrived aboard the WHEELER DEALER. He jumped down. “I hear you found Beech,” Finn said. “Somebody shot him?”

  “And they shot Vahid Nouri.”

  Finn winced as he eyed the bodies. “No sign of the other two?”

  “No,” Keaton replied. “And since the SUV is missing, it seems safe to assume that they left the scene. Probably during the storm.”

  Finn nodded. “It’s unlikely that Beech and Nouri were killed by bandits. That leaves Okada or Jafari.”

  “I’d put my money on Jafari,” Keaton said.

  “As would I,” Finn agreed. “But why?”

  “The murders have something to do with the bombs,” Keaton said. “That’s my guess.”

  “Maybe Jafari was in on the theft,” Finn mused. “He could have planned it! And, once the hijacking was over, he wanted to leave the convoy. The storm gave him the perfect opportunity to escape.”

  “That makes sense,” Keaton agreed. “But what about Okada?”

  Finn frowned. “Jafari needs her advice on how to handle the bombs.”

  Keaton raised an eyebrow. “Or how to set them off.”

  Finn’s eyes widened. “You are an incredible pain in the ass.”

  Keaton nodded. “That’s what they tell me.”

  Finn’s radio squawked. “Six, this is Two,” Pinnick said. “We have Romeo in from the west. He’s carrying four coolers full of iced beer. Over.”

  Finn thumbed the transmit button. “This is Six actual. Roger that. I’m on the way. Tell Seven that we need a burial team at this location. I want photos of the scene and every inch of the bodies. Copy? Over.”

  “Did you say bodies plural? Over.”

  “I did,” Finn replied. “Six out.”

  Finn turned to Keaton. “Thanks. You were a big help. I owe you.”

  ***

  Keaton watched him go. Finn was taller than her ex, better looking, and smarter too. “Don’t, she thought. Don’t care. You’ll be sorry. They die. They always die.

  ***

  Finn felt a sense of apprehension as WHEELER DEALER carried him around the south end of the ridge to the wide-open area beyond. The good news was that Strike Team 3 was about to receive much needed supplies. The bad news was that once the cargo platforms landed, and the vics went after them, the company would be dispersed and therefore vulnerable.

  Fortunately, Finn could see two specks circling above, ready to deal with any Iranian or Russian fighters who might crash the party.

  Finn arrived just in time to join Pinnick and witness the first plane’s arrival. The C-27J was low. Very low. No more than fifty feet off the ground.

  Rolls Royce engines roared as the Spartan sped past. Finn caught a glimpse of Italy’s red, white and green roundel on the fuselage of the plane as it flashed by.

  That’s when two parachutes appeared, immediately filled with air, and jerked a platform loaded with supplies out through the transport’s rear hatch. The tightly wrapped module hit hard, and skidded for a hundred yards, before the chutes collapsed and the load came to a dusty stop.

  Three planes followed. Two of them circled around to make additional drops. “Arrivederci e buona fortuna,” a voice said over Pinnick’s radio. “Romeo out.”

  During the next two hours Emery was everywhere, cajoling, encouraging and, in some cases, swearing as he sought to expedite the collection process.

  But, notwithstanding the supply officer’s efforts, it was a painfully slow affair from Finn’s point of view. He was in a hurry to capture the bombs, free Okada, and kill Ahura Jafari.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Kahf Alqafila (Caravan Cave), the Kavir Desert, Iran

  According to geologists the Great Salt Desert (Kavir) had once been a salt rich ocean. As the climate changed the ocean dried up and left a thick layer of salt behind, along with isolated salt diapirs (domes). One of which had been hollowed out by eons of flooding and wind action, creating a large cavern, and a maze of lesser “rooms.”

  It was shady inside, the air was ten degrees cooler, and briny water was available from a well. And even though the water wasn’t sweet, it was sufficient for the camels that made ancient caravans possible, and for which the cave had been named.

  None of which had anything to do with Haatim’s decision to park his vehicles inside the dome. He needed to hide the bomb truck and the SUVs from satellites, spy planes, and drones until Uncle Ahura arrived. And the older man had been delayed.

  All in all, three plus days had elapsed since the hijackers had taken shelter in the cavern. Now the thieves were starting to run low on water and food. That led to complaints. Most of which had been put forward by Saood who, as the enforcers’ unelected leader, had become increasingly vocal. So much so that Haatim was worried about a revolt. What if the enforcers decided to steal the bombs, and sell them on the black market?

  The idiots didn’t realize they were nuclear bombs of course … So, it stood to reason that they would attempt to sell them to a group like Al Qaeda which, though weakened, was still a force to be reckoned with. And now, as Haatim ate a candy bar for lunch, the four men not on guard duty were huddled together, muttering to each other.

  Haatim felt a growing sense of fear. Should he wait? And hope for the best? Or assume the worst?

  Always assume the worst,” Haatim decided, as he dropped the candy bar wrapper onto the cave’s litter-strewn floor. He tried to look casual as he got up, stretched, and made his way toward one of many passageways that branched out from the main cavern.

  Then, once the others couldn’t see him, Haatim’s pace quickened. Thanks to previous explorations Haatim knew how to make his way up through a series of galleries to a tunnel that led out over the main chamber. He had to crawl to reach the overlook. Shafts of golden sunlight slanted down from holes in the dome’s roof to form pools of light on the sand below.

  The enforcers were gathered below Haatim, searching his knapsack. For food? No. They were after the keys to the truck. And, when the bastards came up empty, they would hunt him down. So, what to do? Kill them before they can kill me, Haatim decided. But how?

  Haatim was carrying a gun for the first time in his life. And there were six enforcers to deal with—counting the sentries outside. And the moment he shot one of them the rest would come running. That was when Haatim felt the salt formation give way. He plunged into the cavern below.

  Fortunately, a thick layer of sand was there to cushion Haatim’s landing. But the force of the impact left him gasping for air. Haatim had to get up. And do so before one or more of the enforcers beat him to it.

  Haatim managed a pushup and made it to his knees. Large chunks of salt encrusted dirt lay over and around the enforcers. But Saood—damn the bastard to hell—was struggling to his feet.

  Their eyes met and both men drew their pistols. Saood fired first. Haatim felt a burning sensation as the bullet nicked his neck.

  Then Haatim was firing, and firing. All without aiming. A bullet smashed through Saood’s teeth, cut his spinal cord, and kept on going.

  The enforcer collapsed. More, Haatim thought. There are five more. Kill them.

  One of Saood’s co-conspirators was either unconscious or dead. Haatim shot him in the chest. Then, unsure of how many bullets remained in his magazine, Haatim thumbed the release. His hands shook uncontrollably as he fumbled a fresh magazine into his pistol, heard a click, and thumbed the slide lock. The semiauto produced a clacking sound as a bullet entered the chamber. That was when both sentries arrived, weapons at the ready. “Thanks to Allah!” Haatim exclaimed. “Amjad shot Saood! It was horrible!”

  The sentries were processing the lie when Haatim shot them. And shot them again. Then he performed a quick about face with plans to kill any enforcer who was still alive.

  Amjad was up and on his feet. He fired. The bullet knocked Haatim’s left leg out from under him. Amjad fired again and missed.

  Haatim was lying on his back. The trigger seemed to pull itself. Amjad jerked as a 9mm bullet punched him in the stomach, and a second slug tore through his privates.

  The enforcer stood there, swaying as if drunk, his eyes staring. His mouth moved but no words came out. Haatim fired again. Amjad toppled like a tree.

  Haatim’s leg hurt. It felt like a cramp. A bad cramp. The pain caused him to whimper. Blood, he thought. I’m losing blood. But there’s one more. Kabeer … I need to check on Kabeer.

  Haatim was forced to crawl to Saood and the bodies sprawled around him. Good, Haatim thought, Kabeer is dead. There’s no need to shoot him.

  But Kabeer wasn’t dead, as Haatim discovered when the enforcer rolled to the right, and stabbed him.

  Haatim fired, and fired again. Then, after grasping the blade with both hands, he jerked it free. Blood flooded his chest. That was a mistake, Haatim concluded. Darkness took him in.

  ***

  The Kavir Desert, Iran

  After the killing of Nouri and Beech, Jafari had stopped the Mercedes, and turned the engine off. The next twelve hours passed slowly. They were less than pleasant. As muscles relaxed both of the dead bodies emptied their bowels and bladders. The stench was sickening. Plus, Jafari had to endure the sobbing sounds Okada made as she huddled at the opposite end of the seat from Beech.

  Okada was a scientist. And therefore, a logical person. Yet in spite of that, she would try to open her door every now and then, on the chance that something magical had taken place.

  Jafari thought that was funny and liked to torture the physicist by turning the child lock mechanism on and off. “It’s off!” he would announce. “Oops … Now it’s on.”

  And such was Okada’s desire to escape, that she fell for it every time.

  But the scientist could do something that Jafari couldn’t. And that was to fall asleep. Because, if he were to do so, Okada might attack him.

  She was a little thing … So, there wasn’t much danger. But, what if Jafari were to doze off, and Okada were to attack him from behind?

  No, Jafari had to stay awake, which he managed to do for the most part, only occasionally nodding off before catching himself.

  Meanwhile the shamal shook the SUV from time-to-time, tiny pebbles rattled against the windshield, and the car’s automatic warning system complained.

  After what seemed like an eternity it grew lighter beyond the glass and Jafari could see that the storm had lost some of its force. By way of a peace offering Jafari passed a water bottle back to Okada. “You’re sick of the smell, right? So, you have every reason to help me pull the bodies out of the car. Don’t try to run. The sand is deep, visibility is poor, and I have a gun. Understood?”

  Okada’s voice was faint. “Y-y-yes.”

  “Good. I’m unlocking the doors.”

  Jafari got out, ready to chase Okada if he had to. But the scientist did as she was told. Wind driven particles of sand lashed in sideways to sting their faces. It took a conscious effort to lift their boots and put them down again.

  After reaching the other side of the SUV they had to scoop sand away from the passenger doors to open them. Then came the odious task of freeing Nouri’s seatbelt and dragging the dead man out of the vehicle. A process they had to repeat with Beech. And the scientist’s weight made the job that much more difficult.

  Finally, once the bodies were laid out side-by-side, the task was complete. Jafari felt a fleeting sense of guilt about Nouri. Not in regard to killing him, which had been necessary, but the lack of a burial ceremony.

  But such concerns were secondary to forcing Okada back into the SUV, and locking the doors. That was when Okada asked where they were going and why.

  Jafari told her about the cavern, and the need to link up with his nephew, but thought it was best to leave Warlord Wali out of his account. Jafari feared that once Okada learned her fate it might drive her over the edge. And Wali wouldn’t pay if the scientist were crazy.

  The long day faded into an equally long night. Another cycle followed.

  But the next time the sun rose the sky was clear. Jafari felt his spirits soar. The horror was behind them. And they could proceed. More than that, they needed to proceed lest the Americans find them.

  The first step was to get out and scoop sand away from the front wheels to create a ramp. Next was to start the engine and drive up the incline which, thanks to all-wheel drive, the Mercedes managed to do. Then, using the car’s built-in compass to navigate, Jafari drove east.

  Once underway Jafari took a moment to eyeball the gas gauge and saw that the Benz was down to a quarter tank. But there was nothing he could do except drive and hope. Unfortunately, the off-road driving was anything but fuel efficient. And it didn’t take long for the SUV to run out of gas.

  All Jafari could do was to get out, fire up his sat phone, and call Haatim. The boy was supposed to have his unit on 24/7. But the call went unanswered. Maybe Haatim was just out of earshot. Maybe his battery was dead. Or maybe anything.