The Tiger who appeared to be the leader approached Alex and said, “We ready when you ready. I am Lieutenant Zadeh.” Lieutenant Zadeh had long, black curly hair and a handsome face, like a rock star. His men looked more like pirates.
“You can call me Alex.”
“I know.”
“Let’s do this,” Alex said.
13
* * *
At night, the SEALs, Leila, and the Tigers changed into dry suits. With the Caspian Sea’s temperature in the fifties on the Fahrenheit scale, and considering the possibility that Alex’s team might have to spend much time in the water, the dry suits would keep them warmer than wet suits. Alex showed Leila how she would need to hold on to her mask with one hand while somersaulting out of the back of the fastboat while it was still moving.
The SEALs traveled light, carrying small waterproof backpacks and their customized Iranian Zoaf 9mm pistols. Leila carried no weapon. “Does she need a weapon?” Lieutenant Zadeh offered his firearm.
“Never used one before,” she said, “and I don’t know how.”
“She’ll be fine,” Alex said.
Each Tiger carried an Israeli TAR-21, a bullpup assault rifle that fires 5.56mm NATO rounds. The bullpup design imbedded the weapon’s action in the buttstock, conserving space. Although the TAR-21 was small like a carbine, it fired with the velocity of a rifle.
SEALs and Tigers loaded into the boat. The Tigers cast off the fastboat’s lines and the coxswain started the engine. The coxswain eased the throttle forward a bit and the fastboat floated out from underneath the covered slip. Then the coxswain pressed the throttle forward. The boat responded by leaping forward, spitting a rooster tail of water behind it. Light dotted the land, water, and sky. Alex and the others lay on the floor of the boat, keeping a low profile. Not only did the fastboat’s bulkheads hide them from sight, but they also protected Alex’s crew from the cold wind that tried to bite their faces. They sped south.
After four hours of being knocked around on the deck of the fastboat, Pancho peered over the bulkhead to see where they were. They must have approached within three kilometers of the Iranian shore, because Pancho looked at Alex and the others. Alex nodded. Pancho somersaulted off the back, plunging through the rooster tail into the Caspian Sea. Alex motioned for Leila to jump; she executed a perfect somersault. Alex was next. John would be right behind him. Alex tumbled through the speedboat’s wake and held his face mask to keep the water from ripping it off his face. He didn’t know which way was up until the water settled and he floated to the surface. Alex recognized the outline of the Iranian shore from the photos in the skipper’s brief. Between the shore and Alex, an Iranian patrol boat headed straight for him. The bow might crack his head open before the propellers chewed him up. Alex dove underwater. The buoyancy of the dry suit made it more difficult to dive, and Alex didn’t want to kick his feet and splash a signal to the Iranians. He furiously breast-stroked with his arms until his fins submerged—then he kicked as hard and as fast as he could. The Iranian patrol boat passed, and he tasted its motor oil.
When Alex emerged, he saw the patrol boat race northward after the fastboat, which seemed to run full throttle. Little by little, the gap widened between the Tigers’ speedboat and the Iranian patrol boat, but the patrol boat continued to give chase. Better them than me. Give ’em hell, Tigers.
Alex searched for his Teammates until he accounted for each one. Everyone seemed okay. Pancho and John led them south in a swim for the beach. Using only gestures, Alex helped Leila keep a low profile so she didn’t splash. Although the dry suit kept Alex dry, he still felt the cold. Swimming fast kept him warm, and Leila had little trouble keeping up.
After an hour of swimming hard, they stopped. Ahead churned the surf zone, where the waves broke and rolled to the shore. Pancho donned his NODs and held an infrared flashlight. He pressed the flashlight button, signaling shore. No one could see the light with their naked eye and they couldn’t see the response from shore. When Pancho began swimming through the surf zone, Alex followed. John swam next to Pancho and Alex and Leila followed. Inside the surf zone, small waves pushed them to shore, making the swim easier. They continued until their bellies hit bottom. Covered and concealed by water, they stuck only their heads out enough to breathe. Underwater, the SEALs took off their swim fins and hooked them to bungee cords strapped to their backs. Leila didn’t finish as quickly as the SEALs, so Alex helped her.
Pancho crouched low and moved inland to the tree line on the eastern edge of the Sisangan National Forest. Alex and Leila followed. After checking their rear, John joined them.
Alex squatted among the trees and shook hands with their contact, an Iranian-American named Reza, who was working for the Activity—his nickname was Razor. Razor led them across a highway paralleling the beach, then farther into the woods, where a big gray SUV, a Toyota Land Cruiser Prado, sat off the road. Everyone piled into the vehicle. Razor drove out onto the highway to the east. With the black Caspian Sea to their left, black forest to their right, and black sky, the world seemed black. Soon the forest ended and the land brightened up with a few lights shining from scattered houses, assorted buildings, and large farms. Alex and his crew changed into their Iranian clothes.
“It’s about one hundred and fifty klicks from here to Tehran,” Razor said.
I must be crazy, Alex thought. We just escaped from Iran, and now we’re going back in.
With the sea still on their left, the Toyota Land Cruiser passed several small towns on the right. Razor drove over a bridge before turning right at a larger town. They traveled southeast on Expressway 22 until it became Expressway 77 and took them around a city that looked about half the size of Virginia Beach.
“What city is this?” Alex asked.
“Amol,” Razor answered. “This city has been around since at least the third century. It was a capital city until the Mongols invaded. Today it mixes the past, present, and nature. A lot of people have summer homes just south of here.”
Leila put her head on Alex’s shoulder and closed her eyes. He thought about nudging her head off, but she looked so peaceful—and beautiful—that he did nothing. He looked to see if John was paying attention, but he was focused on the road.
Alex and his crew passed Amol and after riding ten kilometers south, their Land Cruiser climbed up the Alborz mountain range. The Land Cruiser groaned and Razor shifted into a lower gear, relieving stress on the engine. After a while, they descended the other side, and the engine raced. Razor shifted back up into drive, calming the engine. The Land Cruiser traveled around, up, and over smaller mountains. When they rounded the last mountain and headed west, Alex saw some scattered lights in front of them. Abruptly the lights became a sea of orange, yellow, and white—Tehran.
In the city, on top of a six-floor lobby that looked like a saucer, stood a tower that rose more than fourteen hundred feet in the air. At one thousand feet, a twelve-story pod looking like a giant Fabergé egg perched on the slender column of the tower. Above the pod, the tower was topped off by an antenna.
“That’s the Milad Tower,” Razor said. “The antenna is the Islamic Republic of Iran telecommunication antenna used for television and radio. Adjacent to the east of the tower is the Milad Hospital, where your target is located.”
Razor took an exit off the Expressway 77 and zigzagged through Tehran until he came to the parking lot of an upscale condo. He pulled into an empty space and stopped. When they had all exited, Razor pressed the key remote, locking the SUV’s doors. He handed the keys to Alex. “This is yours. The SUV has no connection to me or our friends. It’s clean, so you can do whatever you want with it. This other key on the key chain is for that green van.” Razor pointed to the van. “The smaller key is to your condo, which is also clean. The condo key also opens the gate to the stairs, but the gate is low, and you can jump over it, if needed—it isn’t burglar-proof, but it helps to keep unwanted visitors out.”
Alex and his team follow
ed Razor into the lobby, where they walked across a granite floor. They stopped in front of a locked glass door to the elevator, where Razor typed “8888” into a number pad. The locked glass door opened. “I didn’t choose the combination,” Razor defended himself, “the building manager did. This isn’t the most secure condo in the world, but it’s one of the most secure in Tehran—and one of the nicest.”
The group rode up the elevator to the seventh floor, where Razor showed them to unit 701. Alex used the key Razor had given him and opened the door. Inside, he took a look around. The four-bedroom condo was well furnished. The refrigerator was packed with food. On a table was a notebook computer that probably had hidden software for secretly communicating with JSOC. Even the closet had local clothes and hospital uniforms for the SEALs and Leila. The glass balcony doors afforded a view of Milad Tower and Tehran. “You done good,” Alex told Razor.
“The view is to die for,” Razor quipped.
“What’s the phone number for room service?” Pancho joked.
Razor smiled. “If room service comes calling, you’ve worn out your welcome.”
Alex used the notebook to quickly report to JSOC that his team had arrived in Tehran. Meanwhile, the others grabbed food out of the refrigerator and made an early breakfast. Then everyone ate while Razor briefed them on their target’s location and relevant information. Finally, Razor departed. The SEALs and Leila decided they’d do a reconnaissance of the hospital the next afternoon, when there would be a lot of people and confusion—if the opportunity presented itself, they’d hit Dr. Khamenei. On this day, they took turns sleeping and standing watch.
As evening approached, everyone was awake. Leila started to make dinner, but the guys told her not to. “The koobideh is ready,” she argued. “We must eat it tonight.”
Alex had no clue what koobideh was and he could tell by the looks on Pancho’s and John’s faces that they didn’t, either. After she finished cooking, they all sat down for the meal. Leila served them plates of buttered Persian rice with grilled tomatoes on the side. Then she brought out two kebabs in her left hand. On one stick were skewered Persian-style barbecued lamb and onions. On the other was Iranian minced meat that she called koobideh, made from beef and mixed with parsley and chopped onions. In Leila’s right hand she held one piece of nan flatbread. She placed the kebabs on Alex’s rice and used the nan to hold the food in place as she pulled out the skewers. Then she did the same for Pancho and John. Alex waited for the guys and Leila to get their food before eating. In Alex’s mouth, the hot meats tasted of an exotic mixture of salt, black pepper, garlic, celery, olive oil, sumac, and saffron.
While everyone ate, Leila served drinks. As she gave Alex his drink, her breast brushed against his shoulder. He looked again at John, but either the frogman was oblivious or doing one hell of a dumb act. The drink was a deliciously sour mix of yogurt, carbonated water, salt, and dried mint—doogh.
While eating and drinking, Alex noticed Leila looking at him. When she realized he’d noticed, she looked down. Alex resumed eating, then he noticed her looking at him again. This time she stared longer before lowering her eyes. He watched her devour her food. This is nuts.
Finally, Leila served dessert: Persian ice cream flavored with frozen chunks of cream, rosewater, and saffron—sandwiched between thin crispy waffles. As she gave Alex his dessert her hand discreetly brushed against his. This time he was sure it was no accident. Alex felt lonely, but he didn’t want to risk the mission by getting romantically involved with her.
After dinner, the SEALs cleaned up while Leila took a shower. Although there were four bedrooms, there was only one shower. Alex showered next, followed by John and Pancho. Then Alex took a long look through the glass balcony doors at the nighttime view of the Milad Tower and the sea of lights that was Tehran—its beauty had caught him by surprise. In the reflection of the glass, he saw Leila—she was catching him by surprise, too. He went to his room, stripped down to his black silk undershorts, crawled into bed, and tried to sleep, but he was too anxious about the mission—and Leila. He lay in bed awake for a couple of hours. Then his door slowly opened.
Alex kept his pistol under his pillow, but he hadn’t heard anyone break into their house, so it had to be one of three people. Maybe it was Leila, but this seemed too bold for her. Or Pancho was about to play a practical joke on him.
Alex looked and saw Leila walk across his room toward him. She lifted his sheet and crawled into bed with him. How far is she going with this? After a few minutes, Leila moved closer to him and pressed her body against his. “I do not usually do this,” she whispered in his ear.
Leila’s thin T-shirt did little to cover the touch of her curves. Alex’s mind wanted to tell her no—he didn’t want to endanger the mission. If he spoke, he was worried Pancho and John might hear and know that she was in his room. He worried that he was eroding his leadership in his men’s eyes. Just because he could, didn’t mean he should. Alex knew that John was attracted to Leila, and he felt a momentary pang of guilt. In spite of the red lights, his body signaled green. He wrapped his arms around her. She felt firm, yet soft. Her nose nuzzled his face. Alex’s lips found her lips. Her lips parted slightly and he kissed her more deeply. Her lips parted more. Alex’s temperature rose. Leila’s hand caressed his cheek. Her hand continued down to his shoulders, then his chest, making him warm. Alex removed her T-shirt and explored her naked body with his hands—her skin was warmer than his. Leila felt his right bicep before returning to his shoulders and chest. It became so hot that Alex removed the bedsheets. He kissed her neck. Her hands descended to his abdomen. Alex and Leila’s bodies combusted, burning into the night.
14
* * *
In the morning, Leila, who had gone back to her own room, acted as if nothing had happened. Alex did his best, but he worried that Pancho and John could see through them. Alex checked his computer to see if there were any messages—there was one from Razor: “Today target is checking out of hospital at 1700.”
Alex updated Pancho, John, and Leila and told them to get ready to hit the target ASAP. Then Alex sent a secure email to JSOC to tell the Tigers that he needed the extract for his team tonight.
Leila put on a black skirt and gray blouse with a doctor’s white coat. She covered her hair and neck with a black scarf called a maghnaeh. Although the burqa and niqab were seen in Iran’s southern rural areas such as Abadi Abad, headscarves and maghnaeh were popular throughout the rest of Iran. Alex, Pancho, and John wore dark slacks, gray shirts, and doctors’ white coats—and Zoaf pistols. After breakfast, they went downstairs and loaded into the SUV.
Leila drove them to the hospital. From the hospital parking lot, they entered a side entrance to the main building and passed a handful of armed Revolutionary Guards milling among the crowd of patients and staff. The Revolutionary Guards stared at John, then Alex. The SEALs and Leila stepped into the elevator and the door closed. Pancho pressed the button to the tenth floor. The four of them put on their surgical masks. On the tenth floor, they stepped out and walked down the stairs to the eighth floor, where their target was. Riding the elevator up was easier than walking up stairs, and getting off on the wrong floor tricked anyone who might be watching.
They walked down the hallway. Outside their target’s door, two Revolutionary Guards stood with their AKMs, modern versions of the AK-47 rifle, slung on their shoulders. One Guard’s uniform was wrinkled and his hair was uncombed. The other Guard had an ironed uniform and his appearance was neat—they looked like the odd couple. When Alex’s crew neared the Guards, they became rigid and alert.
Alex led his posse into the room two doors before the target’s room and waited for the odd couple to relax a bit. Inside the room, a patient lay asleep, another sat reading a book, and another lay in bed staring at Alex. Alex pulled the curtain, so the patients couldn’t ogle him and his crew. Because their target would be checking out at 1700, doing the hit at night was no longer an option. They could wait f
or another day, but that day might never come. Alex led them out the door.
The four walked down the middle of the hallway. The odd couple was alert but not rigid as the two watched Alex and his team. Good. Alex took one step in front of the odd couple then turned sharply, walked between them, and proceeded into the target’s room. Alex reached into his right pocket, which had been cut out, and pulled his sound-suppressed Zoaf pistol from its holster. Behind him, the odd couple chattered loudly in Farsi. Alex trusted Pancho and John to protect him—if the odd couple went for their weapons, Pancho and John would dispatch them.
Inside the room, a sleepy Revolutionary Guard sat in his chair. His AKM leaned against the wall. The Guard reached over and grabbed his rifle. Alex aimed and shot him twice in the upper torso and once in the head. The Guard tumbled out of his chair and onto the floor. Alex continued forward into the room. Two of the three beds were empty. Alex recognized the middle-aged woman in the third bed as his target, Dr. Sheema Khamenei. Alex wheeled his pistol around in the scientist’s direction.
Eyes wide open, Dr. Khamenei babbled in Farsi. Alex didn’t understand it, but her lips slurred like she’d been drugged.
Alex aimed his pistol at Dr. Khamenei’s forehead and squeezed the trigger. Click. Alex’s pistol malfunctioned. Alex tapped the magazine on the bottom and racked the slide to fix the malfunction, but the slide didn’t return forward properly. Probably two rounds had tried to enter the firing chamber at the same time—a double feed. Damn!
Dr. Khamenei’s voice rose in pitch, volume, and speed.
Leila had followed Alex into the room. “She says there is another biological weapons lab,” Leila translated. “More secret than the one near Abadi Abad, but in another location, and close to launching an attack on the United States.”
Easy Day for the Dead Page 10