“I believe so. Let me have a chat with the boys over at S &T — the TACSAT-10 is their toy, after all.”
“No,” Kranemeyer replied, cutting the analyst short. “You’ll handle it. Find a work-around, but keep the circle close. Orders of the DCIA.”
“What’s going on?”
“That’s not your concern. Just play it close to the vest tonight, Ron.”
“All right,” Harry whispered, holding up his hand for a halt. He dropped to one knee behind a rock formation, the rest of the team forming in a huddle behind him. “This is where we break up. Go the rest of the way on our bellies.” He reached into his shirt and unfolded a small map. It was plain, no marks save those chiseled into his mind back in Washington.
“Intel says the hostages should be in one of these two trailers. They’re both in the northeast quadrant of the camp. I want them hit, fast and hard. If it’s carrying a gun, it goes down, just remember your fields of fire and stick to them. Tex, you and Davood take that quadrant. Hamid, I need you on the northwest. I’ll be coming in from due west. When you are in position, signify by toggling your mike switch twice. Other than that, maintain radio silence. No exceptions.” He glanced at the dark faces surrounding him. “Any questions?”
Davood nodded. “It’s going to be hard to stage this attack without using the radios. So why can’t we? Langley said they’re secure.”
“Langley also said the Iranians had no idea we were coming.” A grim smile creased Harry’s face. “The suits get it wrong from time to time. ‘Bout time you learned that. Radio silence. And for heaven’s sake, remember your fields of fire. Let’s roll ‘em.”
One by one, his team members slipped away into the night, leaving Harry alone again.
Time to move. He took his Kalishnikov in one hand, raising himself from behind the rocks. The camp was spread out below him, in a hollow of the valley, lab trailers ghostly white in the moonlight. His eyes swept from side to side, in an attempt to pick out the sentries he knew must be patrolling the perimeter.
Nothing. Only silence hung over the plateau. He crawled fifty meters, then covered behind a large rock, plucking a small pair of binoculars from a pocket of his combat vest.
His radio buzzed with static, then Hamid’s voice came through, loud and clear. “FULLBACK to EAGLE SIX, the camp is empty. No signs of life.”
“Confound it, FULLBACK,” Harry hissed, “you were told to maintain radio silence.”
“Roger that, boss, but it’s like a ghost town. Didn’t the tangos leave anyone home?”
Major Hossein’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. What was going on? He didn’t understand — the next words answered his question.
“Continue moving in on the base camp, EAGLE SIX?”
“Follow your orders, FULLBACK,” the American leader replied, anger clear in his tones. “Toggle mikes twice to signal your position. Now get the deuce off the air.”
“Roger, EAGLE SIX.”
Hossein spun into action, charging down the hillside toward the main body of his men, heedless of the American sniper who was still out there somewhere.
“I want twenty men back in the trucks!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the rocky slopes. “The Americans have tricked us.”
The helicopter settled down on the roof of Mossad HQ and General Shoham was out of the door almost before the rotors had stopped turning. A light rain was just beginning to fall and one of his aides handed him a poncho.
He brushed it away and strode purposefully to the side of the helipad, where he spied the watch officer.
“Any word on RAHAB?” he demanded.
The younger man shook his head. “Nothing since last contact at 2430. We’ve heard nothing from—”
His words were cut short as a door opened and slammed shut behind them, a young woman wearing a corporal’s uniform running onto the pad.
“Sobel! We just heard—” She stopped suddenly, in surprise at the general’s presence. “Excuse me, sir,” she continued, drawing herself up into front of Shoham and snapping off a sharp salute.
“You’re excused, corporal,” Shoham answered, smiling at her confusion. “Go on with your report.”
She nodded, pausing to catch her breath. “We just got a report from RAHAB over the satellite uplink.”
“And?” Shoham demanded, stepping closer to the corporal. “What’s going on?”
“They’ve secured SCHLIEMANN. Are proceeding to the extraction zone. That’s all.”
“No casualties?”
“None were reported, no, sir.”
“Everything’s proceeding according to plan,” the general said briefly, turning to the watch officer. “Give RAVEN the go-codes. Get in and pick them up.”
“Understood, sir.”
Major Hossein swore in frustration as the trucks ground their way up the mountain road, bumping and jouncing over the hard terrain. The Americans had outfoxed him once again. If it weren’t for BEHDIN…
He didn’t want to think about it.
The words, though, still puzzled him. FULLBACK to EAGLE SIX, the camp is empty…it’s like a ghost town. Didn’t the tangos leave anyone home?
He had fought against the American forces in Iraq for long enough to know what was meant by “tangos”. Taken from the NATO phonetic alphabet, it was special forces shorthand for “terrorists”. They were talking about his base camp. Empty?
Thomas rose up from the rocks beside the road, his finger flicking off the safety of the AK-47 he cradled in his hands. Another fully-loaded Kalishnikov was slung over his back, both rifles he had taken from the Iranian soldiers he had killed.
The trucks looked brand-new, a Chinese make Thomas recognized vaguely from some Langley intelligence photos. The way their gears whined as they made their way up the steep mountain road, they weren’t likely to remain that way for long. His presence reduced that likelihood to a statistical impossibility.
The lead truck came abreast of his position and he could see the two figures in the cab, glowing green through the lens of his night vision goggles.
Now!
The windshield disintegrated before Major Hossein’s eyes under the impact of a short burst of gunfire, the sound of an AK-47 on full-automatic filling the air like the popping of firecrackers. The corporal driving let out a strangled cry and Hossein felt something warm and wet spray over his face. His hand came away sticky with blood.
The truck lurched to one side as the tire blew, careening off the road into the rocks. The driver’s body slammed into him as the truck turned over, pinning him against the door. He lay there, feeling the shattered glass dig into his flesh, the breath completely knocked from his body.
From the road above, the gunfire continued, but it was being answered now, as his men responded. They need me! His mind screamed, but he lacked the strength to answer that call. The corporal was dying, slowly, his body pressed against Hossein’s chest, blood dripping from his neck wound onto the major’s face. Above, the stars twinkled down through scattered clouds. And the gunfire continued…
Something had gone seriously wrong. The back of the young sentry’s head was blown completely away. Harry rolled the corpse onto its back, noting the single bullet hole squarely between the eyes. The mark of a professional.