Strike on Iran, page 14
He heard the controller continue. “All that’s left is the GBU-12 Paveway II, that’s a laser guided bomb.”
Talley’s shoulders straightened, and he painted a smile across his face. “I want you to keep that Reaper circling my position, Creech. Can you read my coordinates from this transmission?”
“That’s an affirmative, Lieutenant. We’ll feed in the course corrections, give us a couple of minutes, and she’ll be over your position. Do you have your laser target designator?”
“That’s a negative, Creech. I can send you coordinates over the radio, can you use those?”
“Can do, Bravo One. Call us when you’re ready.”
“Bravo One, out. And thank you, Creech.”
“You’re welcome, buddy. Anytime.”
Nolan grinned at the thought of the computer geek in the Nevada desert, alternating between playing computer games and piloting the deadly Reapers on their missions of death and destruction.
Does the guy understand the difference? Or is it all just another screen for him to look at?
“We’ll locate those enemy troops, line up the strike, and find their laboratory. My guess is they’ll be close together; the troops will be guarding the scientists. I reckon about fifteen minutes, that’s around daybreak. We can’t leave it any longer. Wait for my call, I’ll send you a couple of guys to help out.”
They nodded, and watched and waited the scene in the square. They turned as two men came up the alley from the rear, but it was their own people. The tall, tanned California beach boy, Dan Moseley, armed with his HK 416, and in total contrast, the Israeli Arab, Abdul Hussein. Someone had lent the Arab an HK 416 assault rifle, no doubt from one of the fallen Seals, so the men were similarly armed. Nolan nodded a greeting.
“Are you both on the communications net? Did they give you a spare set, Abdul?”
He meant did they strip one of the commo units from a dead body?
Abdul shook his head. “I’m sorry, no, they were all burned up pretty badly. This rifle was thrown clear, and Will Bryce checked it out before he gave it to me.”
“Okay, here’s the deal. We have sixteen soldiers in the square, one of them an officer, and there’s a Mullah too.” He looked sharply at Abdul, but he said nothing.
How will he feel if I order him to kill the Mullah? If he hesitates, it’s likely he’s the leak. In which case, I’ll have to kill him.
“That Mullah goes down with the soldiers. He could rally them after we hit them and cause us a load of problems. Vince and I will start whittling them down. We’ll start with that officer. You guys hit them with short bursts from the HKs, and make sure you don’t miss any of them. We’re running this mission on a shoestring, and we can’t afford to make any mistakes.”
Abdul Hussein looked at him and nodded.
“Copy that,” Dan affirmed. “When do we start shooting?”
“When the Boss gives the order, you’ll hear it over the commo. Abdul, don’t start shooting until I do. Clear?”
The Arab nodded. “It is clear.”
They were next to a small house, more of a single floor, one-roomed hut that dominated the end of the alley. Of more important to them, it had a glassless window that looked out over the square, and another overlooking the alley.
“Dan, go with Abdul inside the house and shoot from the window. Vince and me will find a stand out here. You’d better get into position. The fun could start at any moment.”
Which means the Arab will be in front of me. I don’t fancy having a Muslim behind me with a loaded assault rifle. If he does anything funny, he’ll be within pistol shot.
The Seal and the Israeli climbed through the window and crouched down just inside the room, their weapons ready to fire. Nolan and Merano, with long experience, found a niche; a low wall the other side of the alley with a good view of the square. Nolan rested the barrel of his Mk11 SWS on the stonework and checked the clip. It was full, twenty long, 7.62mm rounds waited to be sent on their way to destroy the enemy. He’d checked it after the action when they’d ambushed the platoon of Pasdaran, but as was his habit, he checked it again. The rifle was accurate to a range of fifteen hundred yards, and at two hundred yards, he’d be able to make every shot count. He had three spare magazines, more than enough for the job, and then made a similar check on his Sig Sauer. The P223 was in its holster, and he confirmed it was loaded and ready. He sighted on the men in the square. Their faces loomed large and clear in the emerging dawn. The officer was talking to one of his men, a sergeant. He sighted on the Mullah. And he gasped as he saw his face. Mullah Kareem. Vince grunted as he recognized him too.
“What the fuck!”
“Yeah, how the hell did he get here?”
The officer stomped back up to Mullah Kareem and to their amazement; he kicked the man’s legs from under him. The elderly cleric was thrown to the ground. He squirmed, trying to get back to his feet, and they saw that his hands were tied behind his back.
“Jesus Christ, he’s a prisoner, the poor bastard,” Vince breathed.
As they watched, the officer drew his pistol and pointed it at the old man’s body. Kareem shook his head decisively and in a flash, it all came clear.
“Yeah, they took him after we left, and now they’re trying to get him to talk,” Nolan agreed. “Shit, he’s going to kill him.”
“If we fire now, it’ll screw up Talley’s attack,” Vince warned him.
“I hear you. Get a bead on that officer, and don’t shoot until I say.”
He keyed his mic. “Bravo One, this is Two.”
He had to wait for several seconds, and then the reply came.
“This is One. What is it, Chief?”
Nolan explained what was happening in the square.
“The Mullah, Christ, he’s an ally. How close is the officer to shooting him?”
“Maybe half a minute, maybe less. He’s getting pretty worked up.”
Out in the square, the officer was repeatedly kicking Mullah Kareem with his gleaming, polished assault boots. He was still shouting at him, but they were not questions. Now he was pouring out a stream of accusations.
“It’s the end game, I’d say,” Vince offered. “A few seconds, not much more.”
Nolan passed it on to Talley.
“You’ll have to hold on. We may be able to go early.”
“We’re out of time, Boss. They’re about to shoot him.”
“Just wait, Chief. We’re closing in on them. We can see a clutch of guys in NBC suits working inside a building, and there’s a military barracks next door. I guess it’s Pasdaran. The trucks are parked right outside, and some of the troops are out prowling around. I’m guessing the rest are inside the barracks. We have to finish the barracks. We only have the one Paveway. When they’re taken care of, we’ll deal with the laboratory. If you go off early, they’ll be alerted, so you’ll have to wait for my signal.”
“Fuck it,” Nolan fumed after he’d cut off the mic.
“Yeah, I don’t like it any more than you do. I can’t see we can do anything.”
Nolan shook his head. And then an idea started to form.
“We need a diversion. Stay on him, Vince. I’ll be right back.”
He climbed through the open window into the stone hut. Dan and Abdul turned quickly as he came up behind them, relaxing when they saw it was Nolan.
“Abdul, you can see what’s happening in the square?”
The Arab nodded. “Yes, they’re abusing a Mullah. What is this, some test of my loyalty, Chief Nolan? You want me to shoot him? Go ahead, if you think it’s necessary.”
“It’s Kareem.”
Both men stared at him. “Mullah Kareem, from Mashhad?” Dan gasped.
“Yep. They must have taken him shortly after we left.”
All Nolan could think of was the daughter, the delectable Mitra. Oh, God, if they had her, they’d set upon her like a pack of wolves. He looked out at the men in the square and saw a soldier deliver another hard kick to the Mullah. Then he wrenched his gaze back and stared at Abdul.
“I reckon they’re about to kill the old man. We need to buy some time, so that Talley can launch the attack. We’ll need a diversion, just enough to gain a few minutes.”
Abdul nodded.
“Abdul, you’re the diversion. Put down your weapons and get out into the square. You’ll need to go out the back way and loop around. Don’t draw attention to us here.”
His eyes opened wide. Surprise or fear? Or was it something else?
Whose side are you on, Abdul? We’ll soon see when you get out into that square.
“What do you want me to do when I get there?”
“I dunno. Surrender, I guess, or something like that. Anything to take their minds off that old guy. Think of something, man. You have to get out there, now!”
Abdul only took a few seconds to make up his mind. He nodded.
“I will do my best.”
He put his assault rifle carefully on the ground, took off his body armor, and looked grimly at Nolan. “If this doesn’t work, I’ll see you in hell.”
Nolan nodded. “Yeah, I expect you will. Good luck, now go to it. We have you covered if they don’t go for it.”
“But you cannot fire until the Lieutenant launches the attack, can you?”
“No, we can’t.”
Abdul smiled. “In that case, I must hope it is not delayed.”
Then he walked out the back of the house and disappeared.
* * *
Nolan ran back to join Vince, and he checked out the square through his scope. It was close, very close. The officer was talking loudly to his men. If Nolan were a betting man, he’d have put money on the guy delivering the death sentence on the old Mullah. And then his guess was confirmed as the man swung around and sighted his pistol at Kareem’s head. The square was well lit, and Nolan was certain he could see the man’s finger as it tightened on the trigger. They’d run out of time, and it was too late. And then the officer looked up as one of his men shouted. Nolan swung the scope across, to see Abdul walking slowly toward the group of Pasdaran. He was shouting, but at two hundred yards his words were inaudible. His hands were held above his head, palms out, so he was pretending to surrender. And then as the Arab’s back came into view, Nolan saw something that chilled him. He’d tucked a small pistol into the small of his back. Maybe he was hoping they’d miss it when they searched him. But Nolan knew that when they found it, they’d kill him as a spy.
Shit!
“What do we do, Chief?”
Vince was watching too and had come to the same conclusion.
“I don’t know, Vince. The crazy bastard, he thinks he’s got something to prove, like he’s Rambo or someone.”
“Doesn’t he? Have something to prove, I mean. You’ve been riding him pretty hard about being a Muslim. We all have.”
They watched the drama unfold in the square. Abdul had achieved the first objective, and he’d drawn attention away from Mullah Kareem. But the officer was advancing on him, pistol pushed forward, and pointed threateningly in the direction of Abdul. He was snarling something at him, and they could see his lips moving, big and fat, like two red slugs on his face. They reminded Nolan of Yasser Arafat. The sergeant ran up to support his officer and moved to search the prisoner. His hand reached up, and it happened in slow motion. They didn’t need to be lip readers to interpret. The sergeant’s expression widened, and his jaw dropped as he felt the butt of the gun behind Abdul. He turned to the officer, shouted something, and then clawed for his own pistol. The officer shouted a reply to his sergeant and took aim at Abdul. And Nolan heard the Reaper controller over his earpiece.
“Bravo One, this is Creech. We are in position, locked onto your coordinates. Do we have a go for your fire mission?”
Nolan didn’t wait any longer. He turned sideways to Vince and said two words. “Take him.”
Vince was ready. The sound suppressed rifle spat out its load, and the bullet unerringly flew to its target, and then another. The officer collapsed, and the sergeant stared in disbelief at his Lieutenant who was standing next to him at one moment, and in the next moment, lying in a pool of blood. Dead. And then he had a whole new situation to face, not just a dead officer. His world dissolved into fragments as the attack began. The Paveway GBU-12 bomb smashed into the barracks building, and five hundred pounds of the finest explosives that American dollars could buy exploded. It was like an atomic detonation in the small village, and the sky was abruptly filled with a soaring cloud of smoke, flame and debris as the blast destroyed the barracks and everything in the immediate vicinity.
Talley was shouting orders over the commo. “Go, go, and don’t wait for the smoke to clear. Hit them while they’re still rattled.”
Nolan had no time to monitor Talley. He and Vince were busy with their 7.62mm rifles, pouring out lethal double taps into the disorganized troops in the square. By the time Dan had opened fire, short, accurate bursts from the HK416, the fight was almost over. Abdul leapt up and grabbed the Mullah by the shoulders, dragging him down to the ground away from the risk of stray bullets. He put his hand behind him and withdrew the small pistol, holding it ready. Satisfied that the Mullah was as safe as was possible, Nolan kept on hitting the enemy in the square. The attack was so sudden, so devastating, the stunned and leaderless troops were beaten almost before they’d fired a shot. Two men threw up their hands in surrender, but there was to be no surrender this day. The grim weapons of mass destruction they guarded were too awful to let any of the men involved go free. When the Seals pulled out, the village had to be empty so that the encrypted sitcom could do its work and call in the Tomahawks. The last Pasdaran made an effort to reach the Mullah, holding up his hands to implore the cleric to protect him. Nolan recognized him as one of the men who’d dished out several kicks to the old man while he lay on the ground. Whether he recognized him too or not, Abdul raised his pistol and fired. Once, twice, a third bullet from the tiny gun, and the man crashed to the ground.
“Bravo Two, this is One. What’s your situation?”
“This is Two. We’re all clear. They’re all taken care of.”
“Good. Wait one. We may have a problem. Stay where you are.”
Nolan looked at Vince. “What’s that all about?”
“Search me. Shouldn’t we get out there and make sure of those guys we shot?”
Nolan nodded. “Yeah, we don’t want any leakers.” He shouted through the window. “Dan, we’re going out to check those Pasdaran, just in case any of ‘em decided to play possum.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait here and cover you. What’s the deal with Talley?”
Nolan shrugged. “Probably nothing serious. That Paveway sure evened up the odds. They’ll be rounding up the scientists, I imagine.”
“To kill them?”
The Chief was surprised that Dan sounded so squeamish. “I guess. They were making the biggest, dirtiest bomb in the world to explode on the US of A. Maybe outside your living room, Dan. It don’t earn them any Brownie points in my eyes.”
Dan nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, you’re right. All the same…”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. We’ll see what Talley has to say about it. It may be out of his hands. The guys that pull the strings may have other ideas.”
“In the Pentagon, you mean?”
“Or higher up than that.”
There were no Pasdaran faking death. The Seals had seen the real thing too often, and in each case, it was the real thing. When they were clear, Nolan walked over to Mullah Kareem who had been helped up into a sitting position by Abdul. The old man smiled a greeting. He had been beaten up pretty badly. His face was covered in blood, his clothes were torn, and one eye was closed. It looked as if he couldn’t stand unaided, which meant one of his legs may be broken. Maybe both of them.
“How do you feel, Kareem?”
“Thank you, Chief Nolan. My bruises will heal. I offer my thanks to you and your men.”
“You’re welcome, Sir. I reckon we owed you a favor or two. How did they find you?”
“A traitor, I believe. Probably someone was watching my house and saw unusual activity during the night. They came an hour after you’d left and took me away with them in a military jeep.”
The one they’d seen entering Goldiz. Nolan had only one question he wanted to ask this man, and he wasn’t sure how to phrase it, to sound casual enough. But Kareem was no fool.
“You are wondering about Mitra?”
“Yes, Sir, I am.”
“I do not know. When they took me, I was outside in the yard, making certain the gates were secure. I do not know whether she managed to elude them or not. Perhaps when they took me, they were satisfied. Why would they take a girl prisoner, one who has no connection to any kind of illegal activity?”
Nolan stared at him, without reply. Finally, Kareem nodded.
“Yes, of course. The obvious reason.”
“She may be okay, Mullah Kareem. Can you call her, does she have a cellphone?”
The old man smiled. “This is one of the remotest parts of Iran, Chief Nolan. There are not many cellphones in this area.”
“I hear you. When we’ve taken care of things here, we’ll see what we can do to check it all out.”
“Thank you, but it may not be necessary. I need to get back to my mosque as soon as possible, and I hope to find Mitra there when I return.”
“Go back? You’re not serious?”
“Of course. Why not?”
“Because someone knows about you. If they catch up with you, you’ll hang from a crane in the main square of Mashhad. And that’s if you’re lucky. As for Mitra…”
“I see. I had no idea it would come to this when I agreed to help you.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come over the border with us, and we’ll see about getting you and your daughter resettled. When we…”
“Bravo Two, this is One, where are you, Chief?”
“Still in the main square. It’s all over here. We’re just counting bodies.”
