“Get him a styrette,” said Grease. “Morphine.”
“God, he’s burning up,” said Turk. “He’s hotter than hell. He’s got some sort of fever. His wound must be infected.”
“Get the morphine.”
Turk stumbled back to the medical kit for one of the morphine setups. When he returned, Grease had spun Gorud over on his stomach and was holding him down with his knee. The CIA officer continued to scream until the moment Turk touched the morphine needle to his rump. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, Gorud looked at him with large, puzzled eyes, shuddered, and began to breathe calmly.
Turk pushed the plunger home.
“I’m going to give you an antibiotic,” he said. “And aspirin. You have a fever.”
Gorud said nothing. Turk took that as an assent and went back for the drugs. Gorud didn’t talk as he plunged the second needle home. He swallowed the aspirin wordlessly, without taking the water Turk offered.
“Don’t give us any more trouble, spook,” Grease told Gorud before letting him go.
Gorud curled up defensively.
“It’s all right,” Turk said, reaching to help him up. “We’ll get out of here.”
Gorud stared but didn’t take his hand.
“We need to get back to the mouth of the cave,” said Grease. “And we have to be quiet.” He spun the flashlight around. “Come on. You, too, Gorud. Let’s go. And don’t do anything weird.”
Turk reached out to help Gorud, but he refused to be touched. He got up on his own.
“We’ll be OK,” Turk told him. “We’ll be OK.”
12
Iran
ABOUT A HALF HOUR BEFORE THEY PLANNED TO leave, an Iranian military vehicle drove down the hard-packed road near the cave. It was a Neynava, a new vehicle with a squared cab in front of a panel-sided open bed, the local equivalent of a U.S. Army Light Military Tactical Vehicle, or M1078.
The sun had just gone down, but there was still plenty of light, more than enough to see the lingering dust cloud after the vehicle passed. The rear was empty; the man in the driver’s seat concentrated on the road.
A few minutes later it came back up, moving a little slower this time. Turk decided it must have gone to the small hamlet about a mile south and then returned for some reason. It wasn’t until the truck came down the road again, this time moving at a snail’s pace, that he became concerned. He called Grease over from the pickup, which he’d been loading.
“He’s gone back and forth twice now,” he said. “The back of the bed is empty.”
“Mmmm,” said Grease. “Probably moving troops around.”
“I don’t see any.”
“Not yet.”
Grease took the binoculars. Turk checked the AK-47, making sure it was ready to fire. He had an extra magazine taped to the one in the gun, and two more in easy reach. Suddenly, they didn’t feel like enough.
“If they come up at us,” he said to Grease, “do we fight, or try to sneak out the back?”
“I don’t know. Depends.”
“On?”
“How many there are?” Grease continued to survey the area below. “I see two guys patrolling. They’re just walking, though. Heads down. They don’t have anything definite.” Grease crouched down and moved to his right, angling for a better view. “They’re just assigned to check the road. BS stuff, that’s what they’re thinking . . . It’d be best to sneak out, but then we have to walk. It’s a long way.”
He didn’t say that they’d have to leave Gorud, but Turk knew they would.
“We can wait a while,” said Turk.
“Yeah.”
Grease moved away, toward the mouth of the cave. Turk stayed near Gorud, who was propped against the cave wall, sleeping.
Leaving Gorud would condemn him to death, he was sure. But maybe he was already doomed.
Leaving him alive here was too risky, Turk realized. They’d have to kill him.
He knew he faced death himself. He didn’t think about it, didn’t even consider the many times he had, to one degree or another, cheated it. But killing someone else, someone on your side, to complete a mission—that was very different.
“I saw two more guys coming down the road,” said Grease, returning. “The truck went back up.”
“What do you think?”
“I think they’re just looking along the road for anything out of place, then they’ll leave.”
“Are they going to come up this far?”
“The mouth of the cave blends into the rocks. They can’t see it. These guys don’t look too ambitious.”
“So we chance it.”
“I guess.”
They waited another half hour. Night had fallen by then; Turk heard insects but no vehicles.
“We’re going to have go down and see if they’ve left,” said Grease finally. “Otherwise we won’t know if it’s safe.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“One of us has to stay with Gorud. I’ll be fine. You’re the better scout.”
Grease said nothing.
“I’ll be OK,” Turk insisted. “You don’t have to look over my shoulder the whole time.”
“It’s my job.”
“One of us scouting is less likely to be seen,” said Turk. “And it makes sense that you’re the one to do it. You’re going to have to trust me.”
“It’s not a matter of trust.”
“I haven’t done anything stupid yet,” said Turk. “Except get involved in this.”
Grease helped Turk put Gorud into the cab of the pickup. The CIA operative was still running a fever, though he didn’t feel quite as hot as he had before. It was dark in the cave now, too dark for Turk to see anything more than Grease’s shadow as he backed out of the truck and closed the door.
“Stay by the mouth of the cave,” Grease told him. “Just stay there. No matter what happens.”
“Agreed.”
“I’ll come back and we’ll drive out. Or we’ll go the back way.”
“Got it.”
It was hard waiting. The darkness made it impossible to see. Turk was anxious. For the first time since the mission began he felt very alone—more alone than he had ever felt in his life.
He started thinking about what he would do if Grease didn’t come back.
He heard a vehicle in the distance, driving in his direction. He waited, saw the faint arc of the headlamps.
They disappeared. The night fell quiet again.
Ten minutes later he heard someone scrambling across the rocks to his right. He went down on his right knee, brought the rifle up and moved his finger to the trigger, ready to shoot.
“Me,” hissed Grease, still unseen outside.
“Come.”
“There’s a patrol down there,” said Grease when he was closer. “They have a checkpoint on the road. My guess is there’s another one on the north side that we can’t see.”
“Can we take them?”
“Going Rambo’s not going to help us complete our mission.” Grease moved past him to the pickup.
“What are you doing?”
“Watch the mouth of the cave.”
Turk hesitated for a moment, then started after him. He didn’t catch up to Grease until he’d reached the truck.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Grease ignored him, working inside the pickup. Turk peered over his back as he jabbed Gorud’s side.
“What are you doing?” said Turk again. “Hey.”
“Shut up,” snapped Grease.
Turk tried pulling him away, but the sergeant was built like a bear and wouldn’t be moved. He jabbed twice more.
“Grease, what the hell?” he demanded.
“He’s not going to make it.”
“You’re giving him morphine? Why?”
Grease remained in the truck. Turk pulled at him.
“Just get back,” said Grease, voice shaky. He turned and shoved Turk with his free hand. Caught off guard, Turk stumbled back and fell down. He felt powerless for a moment, then gathered his energy and leapt back to his feet.