“What’s that mean?” Ritchie asked.
“Don’t know,” Crocker answered. “You and Manny wait here. Akil, come with me.”
They ran in a wide circle around the edge of the yard to the side of the plant, then hugged the dirty brick wall to the back of an old BMW.
“The motor’s running,” Akil whispered. “I see three people inside. The driver’s-side window is open.”
“Stay here and cover me,” Crocker whispered back. With the Kashtan in his right hand, he ran to the dark garagelike building in front of them, went into a crouch, and scurried to the driver’s window.
Crocker heard Middle Eastern music and someone singing along to the bouncy melody. He took a quick breath, came up, and pressed the barrel of the Kashtan against the side of the driver’s head.
The man lurched forward so hard his chest hit the steering wheel.
Crocker said, “Shut your mouths and put your hands over your heads!”
The man in front and the man and woman in the backseat complied immediately. He saw what he thought was a high-powered military pointer pen on the brown leather passenger seat.
“Is one of you named Ramin Kian?” he asked.
“That’s me,” the driver said. His hair was short and gray. He had a square, bony face and looked older than Crocker had expected.
“I’m Mansfield,” Crocker said. “Behind me is my colleague Jerid. What happened to the green laser?”
“It worked yesterday when I tested it, but not tonight.”
“Kill the engine and get out. I want all of you to follow me.”
“Where?” the young woman who had been smoking a clove cigarette in the backseat asked.
“Put out the cigarette and do as I say.”
She frowned but complied. Crocker got his first good look at her and the third passenger as they exited the vehicle. She was an attractive young woman, about five nine, with dark, almond-shaped eyes, wearing tight jeans, her shoulder-length black hair covered with a black scarf. The male was very thin and young looking, with amber-colored eyes.
Ramin, last one out, had pissed his pants. Crocker watched him reach under the front seat and pull out a dark sweatshirt, which he tied around his waist.
They walked quickly and in silence. The Iranians looked scared when they saw the two other armed SEALs waiting behind the shipping container.
“I’m sorry if we frightened you, but it couldn’t be helped,” Crocker said.
“Okay. Y-y-yes,” Ramin stammered. “We’re glad you’re here, but this is very dangerous for us.”
Crocker: “Your English is good.”
“I studied two years at the University of Maryland.”
“College Park?” Ritchie asked.
“Yes. The Terrapins.”
Ritchie: “I used to live on Adelphi Road, not far from the campus.”
“Adelphi Road. Of course.”
“Are you a football fan?” Mancini asked.
“No, basketball. Steve Blake, Chris Wilcox, Juan Dixon.”
“Awesome team.”
“We won the national championship in 2002 under coach Gary Williams,” Ramin said proudly.
Ritchie: “I remember.”
Ramin seemed like a personable guy, even if he wasn’t a trained soldier. He pulled Crocker aside. “John told me he was going to get me and my family out of the country and find me a job in the U.S. Did he say anything to you about that?”
“No, he didn’t. But if he told you he was working on it, I’m sure he is. I’ll talk to him next time I see him.”
Ramin looked confused. “My mother is very sick.”
“I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him that. John told me you have a plan.”
“I do.” The wind picked up, throwing sand in their faces. Ramin walked over to his shorter colleague and placed a hand on his shoulder. “This is my friend Danush,” he said. “He’s going to pick you up from here tomorrow at 6 p.m. and take you to the arena.”
“My name is Anahita,” the girl said in British-accented English, looking annoyed that Ramin hadn’t introduced her.
Crocker took her hand. “Nice to meet you, Anahita.”
She lowered her eyes to the ground. “I’ll be with Danush.”
“Tomorrow night?” Crocker asked.
“Yes.”
“We’ll all fit in the car?”
She nodded.
“The arena is near here?” Crocker asked.
“Thirty kilometers,” Danush said.
“So it’s relatively close.”
“Yes, about a twenty-minute drive. Twenty-five at most,” Ramin said. “Danush’s brother will meet you there. He manages the sports arena.”
Crocker turned to Danush. “Your brother,” he repeated. “What’s his name?”
“Shah.”
He saw the smirk on Ritchie’s face and knew what he was thinking.
“Shah what?” Crocker asked.
“Just Shah.”
He looked at Danush and nodded. “Okay. You take us to the arena, then what happens?”
“You’ll meet with his brother and he’ll show you where to hide.”
“John Smith told me you had a plan. What’s the plan?”
“We do have a plan,” Ramin answered defensively.
“That’s it? We meet Danush’s brother and he shows us where to hide?”
Ramin looked at his watch. “You want me to show you everything now?”
“Yes, please do.”
Ramin said something to Anahita, who turned, reached under her blouse, and removed a piece of white paper. She unfolded it and handed it to Ramin. On it was a bird’s-eye-view sketch of the arena, entrances, and parking lot. It matched the satellite photo Crocker had in his backpack.
Pointing to a spot on the paper, Ramin said, “This is the sports arena. The customers enter in the front, but special dignitaries arrive in the back. Here. That is where Alizadeh and Suleimani always enter. They come together in one car with a bodyguard and driver. Another vehicle with more bodyguards will follow them.”
Crocker pointed to the curb in the drawing. “This is where the vehicles stop and the two men get out?” he asked.
“Correct. The bodyguards always get out first. They look around to make sure they haven’t been followed, then one of them opens the back door.”
“I see,” Crocker said. “Do the bodyguards wear body armor?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will Suleimani and Alizadeh be armed?”
“I don’t know that, either.”
“We’ll assume they will be.” Pointing at the sketch, Crocker asked, “Are there usually other vehicles parked back here?”
“Yes.”
“And people?”
“Sometimes people, too, yes.”
Danush said something to Ramin in Farsi, then turned to Crocker and said, “You don’t need to worry about other people. My brother will clear them. He’ll show you where to hide.”
Crocker had dozens more questions, having to do with disguises, uniforms, other guards and policemen at the arena, and their escape. Ramin and Danush answered some of them. When it was time for them to leave, they led the SEALs a hundred yards past a chain-link fence to an old shipping container. This one had a lock on it, which Ramin opened with a key.
It stunk inside, and old mattresses covered the metal floor. “You can sleep here tonight,” Ramin said.
“I give this place half a star,” Ritchie cracked.
Akiclass="underline" “Don’t you have something with a view of the swimming pool?”
Ramin frowned.
“What happens next?” Crocker asked.
“We lock you in for the night,” Ramin answered. “Then we come back tomorrow morning and bring some food and beverages.”
“We brought food and water with us.”
“Then Danush will return about 6 p.m. to drive you to the arena. The game doesn’t start until seven.”
Akil turned to Crocker and raised an eyebrow.
“Two things,” Crocker said. “Number one, you’re not going to lock us in this shipping container, so forget about that. Number two: What’s likely to happen at the steel plant tomorrow? Are we going to wake up and find this area overrun with people?”