Harry ignored the question and dropped to the back of the line, his eyes flickering to the rear as he edged up the side of the mountain. It wouldn’t be long. The men below would be coming after them. And now their pursuers had fuel…
4:22 A.M.
The base camp
Major Hossein stood in the ruins of his camp, smiling ruefully. The Americans had been thorough. Or at least they had tried to be. Only one of his fleet of fuel tankers was left, standing all alone, its paint scorched by the heat of the flames that had fanned across it. He knelt down by the back of the truck, noted how the det cord was looped uselessly around the tank. Uselessly, because of one oversight. One of the wires attaching cord and detonator had never been connected…
Oversight? Rather a gift from one of Allah’s faithful. And the major smiled once again, his dark countenance lit by the still-flickering fires. BEHDIN had come through for him…
6:23 P.M. Central Time
Joint Special Operations Command(JSOC)
Fort Bragg, North Carolina
“A call for you, commander. It’s the DCIA over at Langley.”
General Charles Benet turned, his eyebrows going up. “David Lay? What does that old sonuvagun want with me?”
The aide shrugged, handing the mobile phone to the JSOC commander. “Joint Special Operations Command, General Benet speaking.”
“General, this is David Lay.”
“So my aide tells me. Good thing you caught me, director. I was just leaving for the night.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to put that on hold, general. We’ve all got a long night ahead of us.”
“What’s going on?” Benet asked, a distinct note of hostility in his voice. He didn’t like the CIA director, and didn’t pretend to.
“You mean no one’s briefed you?”
“Stop circling the field, director. What’s going on?”
“Operation TALON went down the tubes two and a half hours ago. Our team was ambushed at insertion, the Huey blown out of the sky. We have four survivors on the ground, in need of extraction. You have a Pave Low squadron on temporary deployment at Q-West in northern Iraq.”
“So I take it you want me to send a helo in after your boys?”
“Precisely. Before daybreak, if possible.”
General Benet glanced quickly at his watch, pushing back the sleeve of his uniform utilities. “Can’t be done.”
“General, the SA-15 Gauntlet that destroyed the Huey has been taken off-line by my team. It poses no further risk.”
“Director Lay, I don’t ask you to assure me that my boys will be safe,” Benet replied, heat in his voice. “If I needed that assurance, my crews would be sitting on their thumbs in the barracks all day. However, there is not enough time for the orders to go through. My men would be caught in Iranian airspace in broad daylight. Classic recipe for a war. Perhaps that shouldn’t bother me, though. Sounds like you’ve already started one.”
“Then I’ll have to find another way.”
“Do that, director. If your men are still in Iran by tomorrow night, I’ll send in a Pave Low. Not until then. Good-bye.”
7:27 P.M. Eastern Time
CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia
David Lay hung up the phone, sighing heavily. He had held out hope until the last moment. Now Harry’s team was stranded, on their way to an extraction zone, to wait for help that wasn’t coming anytime soon. LZ Oscar hadn’t been selected with defense in mind. He reached over and picked up the phone.
“Any progress on the photo, Carter?”
The analyst sounded tired. As well he might be. He was going on hour thirteen. “I’m kinda working on overload here, boss. I shot the photo over to Monique Devonne. She’s been the head of photoanalysis ever since I transferred to ClandOps, so that’s her territory.”
“I thought I had Kranemeyer tell you to keep this operation under wraps.”
“I understand, director. She doesn’t need to know where the photo came from, so I didn’t tell her. And she can get you your answer.”
Lay shook his head. “Let’s pray to God you’re right. By the looks of that photo, if the Iranians start spreading that around, we’re all in a world of pain.”
“Right.” The analyst was no longer listening to him. “I’ve got a couple of vehicles moving down the mountain road into the base camp. Looks like a Chinese make, probably some of the trucks Iran imported last year.”
“Chinese trucks?”
“Part payment for oil, boss. It’s the way they’re playing the game.”
“Understood. Let me know when you have any more intelligence.”
“Sorenson’s breathing down my neck to release that satellite. I told him to give us a few more hours, I want it there when the helo extracts our field team.”
“There’ll be no helo,” Lay stated flatly.
“What?”
“JSOC says there’s not enough time before daylight.”
“You’re going to let Nichols keep moving toward the LZ?”
Lay glanced at the computer in front of him, at the satellite image of the destroyed Iranian base camp. “You have any better ideas?”
5:38 A.M. Local Time
The RAHAB helicopter
“We’ll be in Israel in fifteen minutes,” Yossi announced, returning from the cockpit. He sat down beside Gideon. “Mossad wants us to start the debrief on the way in. The Prime Minister is after them for actionable intelligence and after pulling your dossier, they realized you had the experience.”
Gideon nodded silently, worry in his eyes as he glanced over at the man they had recovered. This was hardly his first hostage rescue. He had conducted many of them with the Sayeret Matkal over the years. But Dr. Tal was not acting like any of the people he had rescued in that time. Their emotions tended to range from euphoria to disbelief, joy mingling with tears. Fear too was often a factor.
There was nothing here. The helicopter was darkened, but in the glow of the red emergency lights, Gideon could see the archaeologist’s face. The expression there was sullen, resentful-angry was the word that came unbidden to his mind.
He moved over and sat down directly across from Dr. Tal. “We’ll be back home in less than thirty minutes, doctor. Your control at Mossad ordered me to debrief you. They want to know as much about the Iranians’ plans as possible. As soon as possible.”
“I will tell you nothing,” Moshe replied, avoiding eye contact with the lieutenant.
“I understand your hesitancy to talk, doctor, but I can put you on the radio with Avi ben Shoham within minutes. I have his authorization to debrief you.”
Gideon half-rose from his seat. “Do you want to speak with General Shoham?”
“No.”
“Then, let’s start the debrief. How did all this begin with the Iranians, Dr. Tal?”
The archaeologist looked away. Gideon waited a moment, then repeated the question.
“I will tell you nothing.”
“Okay, I’ll call the general,” Gideon said finally, rising.
“It will do you no good,” Tal said, his words arresting the lieutenant. “I will tell him nothing either.”
Worry flickered through Gideon’s eyes. This man was a trained operative of the Mossad. He had only been in captivity a few days. Stockholm syndrome couldn’t have set in yet-could it have? He sat back down, determined to handle the situation as delicately as possible. “Why, Dr. Tal?”
Moshe lifted his head slowly, looking the young lieutenant in the eye for the first time. “You abandoned my team…”
5:56 A.M. Tehran Time
LZ OSCAR
It took the team just under an hour and a half to reach the secondary extraction zone, their progress slowed by the archaeologists. Harry had provided rear security for the entire trip, his AK trained on their backtrail. There was no one there, not yet. There would be. Soon enough.