The Primary Objective, page 11
Kolani’s story was different and more disturbing. The only son of his family, he had moved to Tabriz to work in a date-packaging factory, but moved home after his father had been arrested for joining a democracy protest march in the capital. He was held a prisoner in Tehran’s notorious Evin prison and tortured to persuade him to sign a confession to say he was an agitator working for the United States. He had resisted and went on hunger strike. He was banned from receiving visitors and held in solitary confinement. After some thirty days he had apparently tried to escape and died in a fall attempting to scale one of the jail’s perimeter walls. His family and friends knew he would have been too physically weak to make a break and the prison itself was the most secure in the country. Even after his father’s passing, he was given a pauper’s funeral at the prison. Hashmi believed he was killed by guards because he wasn’t a high-profile dissident and no one would protest at his death. The family had been denied his body for burial because it would have proved he had been murdered. Hashmi had become the head of the family. The salary of a date packer was small and the location too far away to commute back to Ashelqu. His mother and sisters were weavers at home. He had started by selling their work in Ashelqu’s market, then using his savings to buy rolled carpet from Afghanistan. His overseas trips were difficult to organise, so he had made a contact who helped him to get false passports, especially if he needed to go to Asia. That, in turn, had helped him to open his second stall and shop in Sami and so he had found success from a family crisis.
He had moved on to explain how he recently married a local girl from Sami and that as a result he would be moving to the town. He was hoping to discuss a swap deal with Jafar that would allow him to save money on the move. He explained he felt happier here because Ashelqu was “too tribal” and his female-dominated family faced daily discrimination and harassment when he wasn’t there. Kolani said in recent times he felt the area was becoming more dangerous and recounted his experience some time ago of finding a dead body “with warts and lesions” in a hessian bag at the side of the road. His tale was interrupted by the late arrival of his prospective customer and his lamb burger. Flustered at the appearance of food at the time, he broke off their conversation to introduce Fawaz to Jafar, and ordered tea for his guest, while the new arrival studied the menu. It was the polite time to move on. Standing and shaking hands, Fawaz thanked Hashmi and promised to drop by the shop in a couple of days.
“Great to see you, my friend, I cannot wait to tell my mother. She remembers you. If I can help in any way, just ask,” and with that he reached for his catalogue and started his sales pitch with Jafar.
The group sat cross-legged on the floor, facing each other, except Rodg. Had he been seated collectively, they may have constituted a circle. But Rodg was keeping watch – listening intently to the noise of the rain, the distant howl of wolves and faraway shots of likely poachers.
Notwithstanding these duties, he listened in as Dave started to talk: “We have only been here three days but it’s clear we have already a great deal of information that we would never have known without coming. I am not sure where the original intelligence came from regarding the research base, but it looks like it came from aerial drone imagery, probably from the US. We knew about the anti-aircraft protection first when a missile downed an Israeli drone back in March. Although we were aware of the location of the site and the position of buildings, we were able to conclude that the complex must be much larger underground, given the projected numbers of personnel working at the site. We have not known, however, why this compound exists in this location. If it was for a military purpose, it would be logical for it to be located in the Revolutionary Guard complex at Posyan.”
Jack was absorbed in Dave’s commentary and had already picked up his use of the term “we”. If “we” related to those in the barn, then the language was loose. If Dave was morphing into Commander of the Peace International covert mission in north-west Iran mode, then already he was imparting fresh information.
Dave went on: “We know there are regular personnel movements in and out of the compound, suggesting there is an active programme of work being undertaken, which is what we are interested in understanding. The most significant knowledge we have established is that the staff appear to be Chinese. Unusually, considering the compound is an enclosed base within a foreign jurisdiction, the Chinese operatives on duty are armed. Again, we don’t understand why this is, given the forces are there by invitation and not in a frontline battle setting.
“We are aware also there are tensions between Iranian hosts and Chinese ‘sponsors’. A relatively small group of Iranians charged with looking after their guests are profiteering from their presence, but the majority are not. Crime in the locality has reduced, largely because the perpetrators are off-duty militiamen and easily traceable. We are not aware of any capital punishment since the Chinese have arrived. However, most locals are aware of the slaughter of some twenty sheep in a field a few months back. The deaths have been attributed by some to the Chinese and has been a source of resentment as the state confiscated the carcasses without offering them as food. Thanks to intelligence from Fawaz, it appears that the local population have benefitted from the investments in the locality made as a result of the Chinese arrival, but no social or cultural integration is allowed.
“Nonetheless this factor considerably increases the complexities and dangers of our mission.
“Given the circumstances, the Iranians have done well to ensure the extent of Chinese involvement in the area has not been detected in the outside world.
“I would remind you: as operatives in a Peace International private operation, our mission is to achieve our objectives without the threat or incidence of killing people. I must emphasise, in this case, mission failure, if attributed, could be regarded by a state actor as hostile, leading to far-reaching and unpredictable consequences.
“Part of my responsibility to PI is to fulfil the mission objectives, avoiding loss of life and to ensure your safe return to your homes. Given what I have described so far, I am no longer confident of being able to do this within the constraints upon me.
“I have two courses of action available, and neither can be fulfilled unless we all agree.
“The first option is to manage a withdrawal. Under these circumstances Fawaz will guide us back to the river where we can retrace our steps back to Azerbaijan.
“Or we can remain in the theatre and request additional resources in order to meet our obligations. In this scenario, it should be understood that, despite our own personal views, the extra resources may not automatically be provided. If that is the case, we may be obliged to withdraw anyway.
“Finally, we are in an unpredictable, hostile environment. There is an ongoing risk that our presence may be detected and challenged. In such circumstances, we are obliged to avoid declaring our nationality and purpose in the face of certain torture. Each of you, individually, will have choices to make about protecting yourself by using the gun issued to you by killing an assailant or by the use of the cyanide capsule each of you has been issued with. The cyanide alternative is quick and final.
“As Mission Commander, my advice is to request additional resources to complete our task. The additional time we have to commit waiting for these to be provided will not be wasted but will allow us to continue to research our plan and deepen our knowledge of this community. I’m happy to take questions.”
Rodg was standing back from the group, his eye on the barn door. “How long will we have to wait to get the extra help you think we need?”
“Who knows? Because of PI rules of engagement on covert operations, we have no direct means of communication with headquarters. In this case, as some of you will know, we are being underwritten by the British government and we have a conduit for passing messages.”
“What does that mean?” asked Jack.
“This information is beyond your brief and classified. It means that, although the British government does not endorse our objectives and will not reference this action because it is covered by a D notice, they are prepared to use us to support their army’s own field training.”
“And…?”
“There is a SAS team shadowing our work.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Their role is to monitor our progress and provide logistical assistance if necessary.”
“What logistical assistance?”
“Exactly what it says. It’s about helping us to muster and do what we have come here to do. In fact, one of the ways they are providing assistance is with communication. I have identified a location for a dead letter drop, which will be the method used to get our message out. Our job will be to sit tight until we have the response.”
“And if we don’t get it?”
“We break up and withdraw as we have already discussed.”
“So that was who that guy Gil was?”
“Yes that’s correct.”
“And he’s out there somewhere on his own.”
“I have no knowledge about where he is, what he is doing, or who he may be with. In the meantime, with your agreement, I will send the message tonight. We need to make sure we are safe in the locality. The longer we stay here, the riskier it will be.
“Fawaz, could you be taking a look around to spot an alternative location if we need to leave quickly? Any more information on the locality and local military strength would be useful.
“Jo and Rodg, I need you to go and take another look at the research compound. We need to check exactly what we need to do to get in and out of there.
“Jack, you need to take over watch duties here until I get back.”
Sensing agreement, Dave added, “OK, guys, let’s get to it – remember, dawn is at 03.58 local. You must be back here by then.”
He checked there was no movement outside the back of the barn, moved the ladder out of the rear hatch, pulled his night visor down and stepped out into the wind and rain.
Jo and Rodg prepared to leave but waited for a few minutes before following.
“OK?” asked Jo to the others.
“He spoke well,” said Fawaz.
“That’s as much as he has said since we arrived,” added Rodg.
“Hope none of it gets lost in translation,” said Jack as he watched Rodg exiting feet first.
Fawaz waited until Jo had followed and pulled up the ladder to allow his own exit in the barn.
“She has courage,” he said. “I hope she doesn’t get hurt. This is different to how I thought it would be.”
“I know,” said Jack. “I’m not sure what I expected; it’s getting a bit scary, but she makes me feel confident.”
“How do you feel about the gun?”
“Before we got here, I didn’t see the point in it. Now it looks like we are up against the Red Army, I’m now sure I’ll be needing it. I know I will only have a moment to decide when the time comes; just have to be sure I don’t bottle it.”
Fawaz put his hand on his shoulder.
“There are big uncertainties for all of us. At least you don’t have to be a stranger in your own country.” He squeezed through the gap in the bales and descended into the sheep pen, leaving Jack alone in the dark with his thoughts.
Another man alone in the dark with his thoughts at that moment was Dave. Running low at the field perimeter, he was moving to the prearranged meeting point with Gil. Before Gil left to go his own way, they had agreed a place next to a particularly prominent cedar. No appointment had been fixed but Gil said he would monitor the site each night between midnight and one in the morning. It had taken Dave some ten minutes to get to the tree and, having walked round its magnificent trunk, retreated to the shadows to wait. It was still pissing it down and, although the tree kept the worst of the wet off, he was starting to feel like he had done when he had emerged from the river. Again, it was not the dampness but the cold which was noticeable. Anyone who thought the weather in north-west Iran was all sunny days and balmy nights could not have been further from the truth.
While he waited, he checked that his Makarov was primed with the silencer attached.
It was a long fifteen minutes before he saw movement in the undergrowth and the black silhouette of a man emerged with a quick wave. The figure approached and slid into the ditch next to him.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Gil began with some irony. “I wasn’t sure if we would get to meet again.”
“Come on, man; you must have known what we were coming into.”
“I had my suspicions, but all this looks like a bigger deal than I was expecting. Guess that’s your reading too. I saw you guys up at the research base last night. It’s quite a place, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’ve sent two of my team back now to measure up in more detail.”
“So why are you here? I wouldn’t mind a crack at it myself but, as you know, we’re grounded.”
“Don’t worry; I understand the rules of the game. But you are right: I haven’t got all the tools to do the job. I need you to get me help or instructions from London.”
“OK – what do you need?”
It was a short walk across Walpole Park, and past the tennis club to the west London Tube station. A crisp autumn morning, Edwin Wilson had an appointment first thing with the assistant permanent secretary at the Ministry of Defence. In a sign which he thought said much about their relationship, this meeting had only been set just before 10pm the night before and the venue was the distinctive red-bricked St Ermin’s Hotel just behind Victoria Street, often used by civil servants and politicians when they wanted “off the record” conversations.
The APS was first to arrive and, having done a quick recce of the reception area, settled at one of the tables outside under the portico at the front entrance. He was less concerned about the chill in the air than bothered that his seat would put him in the best place to monitor comings and goings. For a moment, he had been distracted by the arrival of a black taxi containing a group of American tourists. It was remarkable just how many people had squeezed out and how many bags were accompanying them.
The arrival of the cab had scrambled the hotel’s porters and even the cab driver left his seat to help. He assumed the summer tourist season was coming to an end and this must be the lull before the winter shopping trips arrived.
His initial scan into the foyer had taken him by the reception desk, where he was a known entity. His presence was noted, but no approach would be made until he had settled on a particular seat. The reason for having a quick look round was much more than choosing the best possible position but was more about checking at that moment whether any colleagues from Whitehall or indeed members of the Westminster rabble were holding court. In making the arrangement, given the hour, he thought it would probably be clear of people he would be obliged to acknowledge, which was a great advantage. The problem, of course, of meeting such people was that his presence would be noted and surreptitious questions would be volleyed into his office to determine what he was up to – all part of the “gossip go round”. That was particularly the case in the Ministry of Defence. That’s why, if he was going to be seen out of the office at this time, St Ermin’s was the natural place. Convenient, but not so out of place as to raise undue suspicions about his activities.
His thoughts suddenly moved from American tourists to the here and now as he saw Wilson walking briskly towards the hotel entrance. He had already spotted him and was smiling with a spring in his step. He stood to greet him.
“Eddie, my dear fellow, good to see you and thanks for taking time to drop by. I do hope I haven’t impinged too much on the day’s activities.”
His guest responded, “Sorry to have kept you waiting. Usual problem, delays on the District Line.”
Both men settled down, pots of tea were duly ordered. The host was happy as he particularly liked the complimentary biscuits.
“You may know why we had to meet. I am the bearer of a strange message from your man in northern Iran – Hebbert. On a positive note, he seems to be doing quite well, getting himself embedded in the thick of it, but on the other side of the coin he bumped into one of my guys last evening and asked to pass on a message to you. Now I do know why you operate in the way you do – in fact, I commend it – but I have to say my chaps have their own pressing tasks to perform, and there are others active in the theatre. Chaperoning your people running around is only a sideline for us.”
“Others?”
“Well, it’s hardly surprising under the circumstances, but we’ve detected a covert unit of Russians operating in the area as well. Funny lot, a bit untidy and certainly not as housetrained as our people. If we’re not careful, they could create problems for us all.”
“Well, you know, Roddy, we operate in constrained circumstances. No one understands the rules of the game better than Hebbert and, if he felt the need to use the back channel, I am sure he had good reason.”
“I wonder – but anyway apparently he’s moaning about being under-resourced. I seem to recall he said as much when he was working for us, when we had told the brass that getting our new aircraft carriers operational had to be our priority. But never mind: he is really one of us and apparently is in extremis.”
“What has he said?”
“In essence, he’s confirmed this research centre we have heard about is being managed by the Chinese and seems to have half a platoon guarding it. Presume that’s news to you?”
“Has he asked for more weapons?”
“Not really – not sure what you sanctioned for personal protection, but he’s looking for more ammo and another body. Are you sure he’s not trying to start a war?”
“On this mission the guys were issued with Makarovs plus ten 9mm rounds precisely so they could avoid the temptation to launch a skirmish.”
