Justin shook his head, then sighed. “Yes, we can make it to the border, but you agreed to give us an exfiltration team here, inside Iran. Now you’re going back on your word.”
He looked over at Nathan. The man’s face remained stoic, but Justin could sense a hint of concern in his eyes.
Another useless ramble.
“So, you’re not going to lift a finger to help us, is that correct?” Justin’s tone had turned harsher than he wanted. They were wasting time arguing about their exit plan.
Colonel Garryev gave Justin the same negative response.
Justin cursed under his breath, then ended the call. “He’s being a wimp. The coward is craping his pants, thinking Iran will cause a diplomatic scandal. He’s not dispatching an exfil team.”
“We’re alone?” Nathan asked.
The hint of concern in his eyes had grown into a dark look on his face.
“We’ll rely on one another,” Justin replied. “And we’ll get out of here alive.”
They removed their camouflage fatigues and changed into local clothing: brown salwar kameez, the long tunic and pants, and headdresses. They looked like most of the people living in this area, at least to anyone observing them from a distance. Dark-skinned, rugged and unshaven, they could easily pass for locals.
Their weapons, bulletproof vests and other gear secured in their knapsacks, Justin and Nathan began their long fifteen-mile trek to the border with Turkmenistan. The first few minutes were crucial to escaping Iranian Revolutionary Guards helicopters or any search patrols. They steered clear of dry river beds and obvious trails. Instead, they cut their own path, using rock boulders and shrubs as natural cover from prying eyes in the sky or in the semi-desert.
Half an hour later, a low engine rumble caught their attention. Nathan was leading the way toward the opening of a narrow gorge puncturing the hills. He stopped as the rumble overtook them. “What is that?”
Justin looked to their right. They had left behind the winding road, but a small stretch was still visible, perhaps five miles away. He fished out his binoculars from one of the tunic’s pockets and observed the road for a few seconds. “Nothing. I don’t see anything.”
The rumble echoed from the other side of the hill. Justin looked up at the sky, his left arm protecting his eyes from the blinding sun. He struggled with the binoculars. “It’s a small airplane.”
The noise disappeared, but Justin continued to scan the horizon. He checked the road again.
“He missed us?” Nathan asked.
Justin nodded. “Or we were not what he was looking for.”
“You think the plane was picking up the sniper? Or carrying a shipment of opium?” Nathan resumed his fast pace.
“I don’t know. Something doesn’t make sense.” Justin lifted his knapsack higher over his shoulders.
“What is it?”
“This… this silence. No sign of the Guards.”
“It means we evaded them.” Nathan shrugged, tilting his head to the side.
“Maybe. For now.”
“Or maybe the sniper was working alone.”
“Working alone for whom?”
Nathan shook his head.
He entered the gorge, which was barely four feet wide. Justin took another glance at the hills, then followed Nathan.
“The sniper could be working for anyone,” Nathan said. “Drug lords, one of the Pashtun tribes. He sees two men in military fatigues, he gets nervous, he starts taking shots.”
“And it was a coincidence our defector appeared at that exact time?”
Nathan lost his footing on some loose rocks. He reached for one of the sandstone walls to keep his balance.
“You OK?” Justin asked.
“Yeah, I’m good. I don’t know whether it was a coincidence or not.”
Justin shook his head. “No, the sniper was waiting there for us.”
“I’m not sure if by us you mean specifically you and me or whoever was going to be there to meet the defector.”
“I mean the latter. The more I think about it, the more I suspect someone followed Safavi to our meeting place.”
“If they were tracing his calls, then it’d be child’s play to pinpoint his exact location at all times.”
Justin shrugged. “It’s possible.”
They marched for the next few minutes in silence. They left the gorge and the hills behind, and they entered a vast, open field. Justin kicked a few rocks with his boots when they came up to the shoulder of the road. A gas pipeline ran parallel to the road. Further in the distance, a turn led to what resembled a gas pipeline service station, almost two miles away. It was a small cinder block building, surrounded by a wide array of pipes and steel structures.
Nathan raised his binoculars. “One truck. Four workers in uniforms roaming around. Looks like a general inspection.”
“Let’s stay low.”
They continued in the other direction, on the other side of the field. A flock of dark vultures were pecking at a dead carcass in the middle of the road. One of birds noticed the two agents and let out a high-pitched screech. Another one hopped to the edge of the road, then spread its large wings and circled the roadkill in a defensive maneuver.
Justin smiled. The vulture screeched again. This time it was a different type of cry. It sounded more like an alarm call. The other vultures began to ruffle their feathers. Two of them cocked their heads to the south, then took off. The rest joined the screeching chorus.
“What’s going on?” Nathan asked.
Justin saw the dust cloud before he heard the loud rattle. A small jeep painted in a desert tan camouflage pattern came into sight, followed by a large army truck painted in a similar pattern. A second jeep brought up the rear.
“The Guards,” Justin said in a hushed tone.
They hurried their steps, careful not to give away their position by kicking up sand or scattering rocks as they crawled behind a cluster of large boulders, one of the tens dotting the hillside. They were about half a mile away from the road, stretched over a dry patch of grass.
“How did they get here so quick?” Nathan peered through his binoculars. His chin rested an inch above the grass, and half of his head was hidden behind a large rock.
“The sniper called them in.”
“Still they got here incredibly fast. They were waiting for their order.”
Justin nodded. “How far are we from the border?”
Nathan glanced at his dagger, the Defense Advanced GPS Receiver. Slightly larger than a smartphone, the receiver used the Global Positioning System to indicate their position in an intricate map grid of the area. Two days ago, Nathan had uploaded the details of the terrain, in case the drug runners were less then reliable as guides. He studied the dagger’s display and read the map. “We’re still eleven miles away.”
The front jeep drew nearer to the roadkill. Most of the vultures had flown away, with the last brave bird still protecting its food. The driver honked, and the vulture hopped back, reluctantly flapped its wings, and lifted off at the last possible moment. Justin saw a handful of feathers falling over the jeep’s windshield. His carbine scope brought every detail very close.
“They’re not slowing down,” Justin said.
“No, they’re not.”
The convoy continued until it reached the fork in the road. The front jeep turned left, toward the service station, followed by the other jeep. The truck proceeded for another mile or so, then stopped. Six men in desert tan military fatigues stepped out. Justin and Nathan fell behind the boulder as soon as the troops raised their hands to their eyes. There was only one reason why they would observe the hillside.
Justin cocked his carbine.
“We can’t take them all on,” Nathan whispered.