The Primary Objective, page 26
“What about you?” said Jo.
“Don’t wait for me. I have a little cosmetic fieldcraft to do before I get back.”
Jo looked at Gul, “What’s he doing?”
“Not much – at least not until we are out of these gates,” the Uighur replied grimly.
Exiting proved to be no more of a formality than the arrival had been. The truck was the same; the driver had the same soft Mongol features. A casual smile and wave, the sidekick nodding off under the camouflage baseball cap. No need to get involved.
Rodg waited while they passed the external gate to the compound and used the tone of the gear change as his queue to get to work.
He had been impressed with Gul’s actions at putting both men down. They were still out concussed, but their vital signs were OK. Using a pocket torch, he looked at their faces and hands. Neither had the requisite bruises and cuts. Both carried watches on their left wrists and, as right handers, he closed their hands to check the width of their fists before hitting their knuckles with the butt of his Makarov a couple of times to draw blood. Then he lifted their reversed balaclavas and gently removed the mouth seals, being careful to avoid any chafing of their skin. Faces upturned towards the sky, torch in mouth, he used the knuckleduster on each of them to leave severe bruising and cuts with just two blows each, swearing as the truck turned the corner, causing him to miss with his last blow and hit the floor. With one head damaged, just above the left eyebrow and the other on the right cheek, they now looked convincing as the victims of a brawl.
Gul and Jo followed instructions in Ibrahim Sami, leaving Rodg to replace their pistols and jackets, first ensuring each had some of the blood stains of the other.
The truck had now been abandoned and he could hear the sound of high spirits coming from the restaurant. It was time for the finishing touches to the bodies. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small flask of arak given to him by Fawaz. Cradling each, he opened their mouths to pour the fiery liquid in and, after all he had done, this was the action that stirred them into life. Both were now coughing and spluttering as the liquid burned its way to their stomachs, but clearly had no idea of where they were and what was going on.
Rodg picked up the first body like a sack of coal and jumped down from the back, dropping his shoulder to let the body fall awkwardly forward into the undergrowth at the back. Time was now running out, so when jumping back down with the second body he carried it a couple of metres further on before dumping it, then diving himself for the cover of the undergrowth. Typically, his efforts resulted in him landing in a gorse bush, providing cuts and scratches, part of the same injury he had sought to recreate on the other bodies. He chose to lie completely still as there were now raised voices coming from above his location.
Swearing to himself, he wondered whether he had been seen, but knew if he made a run for it now he would definitely be spotted. The raised voices were indistinct, but he took them to be separate languages, Farsi and Mandarin, and not just from one or two but a group – maybe six or more, as far as he could tell. Had Rodg looked up, he would have seen one of the passengers from the bus being thrown out of a fire escape, but he certainly heard the shriek of a woman. He took his chance to roll further out of range of casual sight into the darkness and far enough away to get clear. He would have been amazed and proud of the actions of one of his colleagues, had he been present in the Chinese restaurant in the preceding hours.
Fawaz and Jack, and Dave and Anya had spent different parts of the evening at the hotel. The first pair had arrived in time to witness the arrival of the Chinese party and to check no one in the hotel had reason to go out to the bus before Gul, Jo and Rodg took control. Once they saw the evening’s events getting under way, they had started to leave but were caught unawares making their exit. Fawaz’s sister, Shimina, had arrived with one of her girlfriends and immediately took an interest in Jack. Despite Fawaz’s best efforts, Shimina attached herself to them, resulting in the quartet going to the cinema. Fawaz’s stress was convincing his sister of Jack’s deafness, allowing him to interpret answers to questions she asked. Dave had an entirely different experience. His contribution had been to take a Chinese meal later on with Anya, and they were one of the few non-Chinese couples on the premises. He had been surprised how the new recruit had smartened herself for the occasion, considering she was living out of a bag like the rest of them. In black trousers, make-up and loose black hair, she wore a sheer mauve blouse and little else. From a positive perspective, it was true that the standard of the food was authentic: a relief to Dave, who had what he thought was duck in a sweet and sour sauce. Anya settled for a bowl of noodles, but what had happened after they had eaten was the bit that took him by surprise. Just after two in the morning, with the food service finished and other guests departed, the floor was cleared for dancing. Anya decided she wanted to dance and had suddenly left Dave at the table and joined the group of Chinese men, who wanted to get off with the small group of girls from the base. Anya moved into the middle of the group and targeted one of the men. At first, he looked embarrassed, but then took an interest watching her sweating, gyrating body, thinking she was a prostitute hitting on him. Having danced closely and getting him under her spell for what seemed like an eternity, she then went to a nearby table a picked up another man for the same treatment. It didn’t take her first choice long to realise he was in a competition where there could only be one winner. Pushing the group of Chinese girls out of the way, he moved in, knocking his perceived rival away, and then that was it – blows were exchanged. Drinks, glasses, chopsticks, then heavier items – plates, table flower vases, bottles, ash trays and more – became projectiles. The Chinese girls started screaming, amid the din of destruction, running to the balcony at the back, followed by the melee of Chinese men. Ironically, the DJ had put on a lengthy disco rap with a fast beat, which he evidently thought would be a great accompaniment to the impromptu choreography. Two staff grabbed the till and started barricading themselves in the kitchen. By this time, Anya coolly walked over to Dave, taking his hand and walking purposefully towards the elevator. Behind her, the fighting mob first succeeded in throwing one of their number off the open balcony at the back, with others rushing down the steps to continue their battle, right next to the truck – their transport home for the night. As Dave and Anya walked purposefully in the other direction, they first heard shouts, before half a dozen Revolutionary Guards with assault rifles ran towards the scene. The couple continued their steady pace away and into the shadows with the sound of shots ringing in their ears. Dave became conscious of the closeness of his colleague and the scent of her body in the chill of the night.
There was a mood of celebration on the mezzanine in the al-Fouadi’s number three barn. The first incursion into the target compound had been completed successfully without death, compromise or serious injury. It was Rodg who had been the first to congratulate Dave.
“A classic soldier’s diversionary tactic you pulled off there, gaffer, and without a mark on you. I can tell you I was wondering what to do with ‘Pinky’ and ‘Perky’ on the way back. Thought I might have to drag them off somewhere in the woods, but you really did me a favour and your timing was spot on.”
It was the serious-looking Anya who started, breaking out into a brief smile. “It was nothing. I knew you had to run to time, so we started fifteen minutes ahead of your schedule.”
Dave took a more analytical approach.
“It was a good step forward and we were probably not likely to have achieved more. But the headcam stuff is not definitive evidence, as Gul knows. We need data and must know where to find it. It seems Jo has the best relationship with this girl, Amy Fong, and we need to concentrate on making that connection work. Despite what she says, we cannot know she will be successful in getting leave on Tuesday, so we must be ready to meet her any night from then onwards. We must also be clear we have a number of handicaps now. Firstly, Gul, it is certain they must have camera monitoring on the gate and will have facial recognition technology available. They might be able to run a trace on you. Secondly, there was security monitoring at the restaurant and, although we sat at a table below the main camera position, there will be some footage of the dancing and fighting, so me and Anya will be on there somewhere. And then there’s you at the cinema, Jack…” He paused. “We’ll have to wait to speak to Fawaz about that, so in the meantime I will try to get in touch with Gil so we can get the headcam stuff downloaded and out.”
Breakfast in the al-Fouadi household was designed to allow the family to get together, and talk about their plans for the day, especially when Hafiz was home, but that morning circumstances dictated an unexpected change of plan. He had already been out to see his wrecked restaurant and had supervised Hanif boarding up the door. Fortunately, nothing outside had been damaged and, temporarily, it would be possible for hotel guests to eat meals in the foyer while the premises was closed.
He walked in through the front door, mobile clasped to his ear, talking with Jafar, the builder, and went straight to the table. Dilshad was already in the dining room, earlier than usual, as she had an early start in order to visit her sister in Hamadan, having just finished packing clothes and presents for the trip. Shimina was there too, especially to see her mother and to share the news about going to the cinema the previous evening. Fawaz was the last to arrive, immediately after his father, but he had his own plan to see his old schoolfriend Kolani, the carpet merchant in Ashelqu. Hafiz had expected to visit the sheep sales at Ahar that day but that was all cancelled now. A casual observer of the scene might have wondered whether it was Hafiz visiting the chaos or the chaos was following him, as he shouted and gesticulated at the phone or anyone else who happened to be in front of him or even in sight.
“Seven hundred and fifty thousand rials… for fuck’s sake! Who are you kidding? Do you think I’m made of money? I’ve got a family to feed and workers to pay and you can’t do it before next Wednesday? That’s a week’s worth of wages. Shall I tell my staff there’s no wages until you’ve done your job? I expect they’ll organise a riot round at your house, then you’ll know how I feel… No, I’m not… OK, if you want, take it as a threat!”
He threw his phone onto a couch on the other side of the room.
It was instructive for Fawaz. He had never witnessed his father in such a rage.
He and Shimina were quiet.
Dilshad went to him and put her hands on his arm.
“You can make it right, my love. I heard you say earlier it’s just redecorating and some new bits and pieces for the tables.”
Hafiz shook the temper out of himself.
“I know, I know. It’s the principle of the thing!”
There was a knocking at the door and Khalifa appeared.
“Sir, there is the Chinese officer at the door.”
Major Ho did not wait for a lengthier introduction. He walked past the housekeeper into the dining room.
“Honourable Mr Hafiz, please excuse this unannounced visit, but I felt I had to come immediately to offer my sincere and personal apologies for the unruly actions of my staff last night. I have heard some accounts of the disturbance and, apart from damage to your property, I understand no other people were caught up in the trouble. My men have brought shame on our nation. All those present have been reprimanded and their leave withdrawn until further notice. The driver and his assistant who were on duty have been arrested and charged with negligence. They will face court martial and re-education on their return. I am on my way to visit Colonel Rahman to express my thanks for the Iranian Guards’ help in cleaning up and alerting us to come and collect our truck and personnel. Finally, I have authorised a task force of ten people plus materials from the base to make good all damage caused within the next twenty-four hours. It will be put back to the standard it was before. One of my sergeants and team will be at the restaurant presently. Thank you and good day.”
The soldier saluted and nodded to the family before departing.
“All’s well that ends well,” said Fawaz after the officer had left. “Perhaps we can all calm down and enjoy some breakfast. I’ll come with you if you like, Dad, and meet these military workers who are going to set things right.”
“Thank you, son. I would appreciate that. I’ve never had to deal with a situation like this before.”
“How did it start?”
“Some of the guys started fighting over some woman who was with one of our other guests. Mr Choi, the manager, said she wasn’t Chinese, but she was alluring. He’d not seen her before but would certainly recognise her if he saw her again.”
“So, the Chinese guys were fighting over an alluring Iranian woman? Weird!”
Shimina glared at the brother.
“How did it finish?” Fawaz asked.
“In the end, the Revolutionary Guards from the duty guard post came down from the bus park and fired a few rounds in the air. They soon stopped fighting and sat on the ground waiting to be collected.”
“What was that about their driver?”
“God knows. I heard the duty soldiers joined the fray. Apparently, they both got badly battered. Our guys found one of them slumped in a bush three metres away. They nearly missed him when they were cleaning up.”
Hafiz picked up his coffee and headed for his study, prompting Shimina to change the subject.
“Anyway, Mum, I’ve got something much more interesting to tell you about. I’m surprised Fawaz hasn’t told you about my dishy date at the cinema.”
Shimina’s mother reacted predictably to her daughter’s baiting.
“What on earth do you mean? Fawaz, I thought you were looking after your sister.”
Fawaz shook his head and buttered a bread roll.
“Well, I went down to the foyer last night with my friend Shadi for a milkshake and some of that yummy chocolate cake they do. Who is there having a beer? Your son. And who is he with? A really fit bloke I met on a bus the other day in Posyan at the Pomegranate Festival. I know he likes pomegranate cake, but he looked at me, you know, in that way. Can you believe it? He’s young and quite light-coloured for one of us, with brown hair and this wild, sexy beard with a hint of ginger.”
She started to giggle and so did Dilshad, until she realised Fawaz was watching.
“It turns out Fawaz knew this guy from the army and he went deaf by getting too close to explosive shells he was firing in Syria – or was it Yemen? I can’t remember… Anyway, he has big blue eyes and can only talk with sign language that Fawaz taught him. Isn’t that right, Faz?”
Fawaz had a mouthful of roll but made some gestures ending with one finger to his lips.
“Well, I thought I’d try and chat him up, only, according to Faz, he didn’t want to talk, so I made Faz take us to see that film, The Beginning. Is it boring or what? I thought it was a love story, but is about a divorce. Apparently, it’s won all these international awards and is one of our most famous movies. Well, if that is so, what does the world think of us Iranians? We’re depicted as being bland, dutiful and dull. Well that’s not me. I don’t want to grow up like that. I want to wear lipstick, share my selfies on Snapchat and go dancing, not stay in reading.”
“You must be careful with social media, darling,” her mother admonished. “It’s not just your friends who take an interest. You never know who is looking at your posts. I have heard the Gasht-e Ershad morality police are taking a particular interest in pictures of young women.”
“That says more about them than me. What’s the point in dressing up just to stay home? I want other people to see me as I want to be seen, not wearing a black blanket. Anyway, back to this boy. Did I tell you he has a beautiful smile? And his name is Parviz – which means lucky. Lucky he’s found me! Apparently, he has just moved to Ashelqu, so guess where I’m going for my next night out? Hey, Faz, is there anywhere to hang out up there?”
Jamshid had taken the first available flight back to Bandar. Going home to check the authorisation for his sabbatical was uppermost in his mind. He remembered clearly what Alrakahthan had told him and had rehearsed the line about his recognition from the Energy Ministry. The two-hour flight south passed without incident. His car waiting at the airport, he headed straight to the office. Checking his phone en route, he had a message from his newly appointed boss at the Port Authority, Elias.
“Hi Jamshid, it’s Elias. I’m not sure whether you are caught up with business in Tehran, but this is to let you know I have just received a requisition order for you from the Energy Ministry. It releases you from your day-to-day duties here at the port. I’m sorry as your boss – it seems I am the last person to get to know you – but I would like to add my congratulations to those of your colleagues. This is a great reputation success for the Port Authority and I hope we will get the chance to get to know each other better in a while. If your duties bring you back to Bandar, please give me a call. I would like to learn lessons from your achievement. By the way, your paycheques will be mailed to your home as usual. Don’t be a stranger. Good luck and bye for now.”
It was ironic Jamshid had taken the message ten minutes away from the office. The good news was that he could now put the day job to the back of his mind, but he would have liked to have said a couple of personal goodbyes before leaving. What would the new man be saying about his departure? His sudden absence would inevitably lead to speculation about his future in the office, but, in the scheme of things, did it matter? He was now clear, he was engaged in affairs of the state, so, in one way or another, he had moved on professionally and probably personally too.
The unexpected gap in his diary created space for the next most important person in his life in the locality, Mahta. He pressed his speed dial.
