by Run
Using GPS, compass and maps, Ryder was able to determine, with some certainty, that Kuh-e Mohammadabad could be reached in less than two days. The plain stretched out before him, rising at irregular intervals towards the foothills. As he looked at the target white-capped mountain, sharply rising, clearly visible now on the horizon, a strong feeling of isolation and doubt engulfed him. Would they find a missile base, and if they did, what would happen with a traitor in their midst? The pressure to expose whoever it was grew with each hour that passed and weighed heavily, but he was determined to press on and hope the traitor would be uncovered before they reached the objective.
After hours of steady slog nightfall came and they made camp in the lee of a shallow gully amongst dense bush. As they dug in, Ryder decided against a fire and the exhausted group made do with cold rations. The earlier rain had stopped but a stiff wind blew across the plain, heralding a cold and miserable night ahead. Nobody said much; all were almost out on their feet. When finished eating, Shiron and Hellmann volunteered to take first watch and the rest finally settled down to sleep as best they could in the shelter of the bush.
Night passed quietly. Shortly before dawn, as they began to stir, Fehed leaned across to awaken Saad. “Aheee! Allah, have mercy!” he cried, recoiling back, eyes wide, staring in disbelief at his fellow Iranian.
Ryder swung round, as did the rest, and what they saw made them, too, recoil in horror.
Saad lay dead, knife plunged upwards deep into his throat with such force that the blade tip protruded through the base of his skull. Blood covered the whole front of the body.
“Jesus, fucking, Christ… what son-of-a-bitch would do a thing like that?” questioned Sicano, voice quivering.
The others gathered around, stunned by the sight then stepped back, looking accusingly at Fehed.
The Iranian moved quickly away from the body and looked askance at Ryder, blurting out he had nothing to do with this; Saad had been his friend.
“Why, for Chrissake? Why?” shot Kellar, staring intently down at the sprawled Iranian.
“I’ll tell you why!” said Hellmann after several seconds, anger clearly showing.
“Corporal, say nothing!” snapped Shiron.
“They have to know now,” pleaded Hellmann.
The sergeant flashed a glance of disagreement and turned away.
“What the fuck’s going down here?” asked Ryder, staring intently at the two Israelis.
“Okay! I’ll tell you!” Shiron shouted, turning back. Then more calmly, “Something happened in the gully where the Iranian’s arm was removed that seemed strange at the time, something in itself not alarming, but enough to arouse suspicion something was not quite right.” He paused and glanced at those around him. “Corporal Hellmann said he thought the transmitter had possibly been tampered with, although he wasn’t sure; and it wasn’t the first time.”
The others gasped, looking stunned again at one another, except for Ryder. It confirmed to him why the Israeli sergeant had fired so violently at the soldier carrying the transmitter in the ambush; he didn’t want to chance this one being used by whoever tampered with the first.
“Tampered with?” shot Sicano.
“Used to send a signal,” replied Shiron, curtly. “Corporal switched it off before turning in; when he awoke it was on, set to another frequency.”
“So?” pressed Sicano.
“What the fuck – so!” spat Hellmann, eyes boring into Sicano’s. “It means one of us here probably used it for some fucking reason. Listen, I was very particular about conserving the battery, always turned it off without touching the frequency.”
“Hold it. Hold it,” Shiron intervened. “Danny, you admitted yourself you could’ve made a mistake.”
“I told you it happened before. I passed that off then as a mistake, but that last time in the gully made me real suspicious.”
“Was that why you wanted to move out in a hurry?” Ryder questioned, fixing Shiron.
“I guess so,” the Israeli replied resignedly. “Hoped we might spring the bastard and avoid aborting the mission, also avoid a potentially dangerous situation if every man became suspicious of the next.” He glanced at Fehed. “That now no longer applies.”
“For fuck’s sake, a man lies dead there,” said Kellar in a low, menacing voice, pointing to Saad, “and one of us here did it. So, who gives a shit about the trani?”
A stunned silence hung over the group for several seconds. Ryder decided it was time to tell them what he knew. “I found a note in the truck.”
All turned to him in disbelief.
“A note saying what?” shot Shiron.
“Who we are, and where we were heading.”
Everyone looked accusingly at the other.
“Who would’ve written that?” Sicano asked.
No one answered.
“Do you have it?” Kellar questioned.
“No, it was taken when we were captured. It was in Farsi.”
All were fluent in Farsi.
“So they know our intentions. You should’ve told me earlier about this, Frank,” said Shiron, a sharpness to his voice. “With the Iranians knowing the contents of that note, we could be walking into a trap if a base exists.”
Ryder shrugged. “The same could be said about the trani, Sergeant.” He didn’t intend to explain why he held back. Everyone here, as when he found the note, was under suspicion. “It’s my guess the Iranian found out who and has paid for it with his life,” he finished, looking at each of them for a tell-tale sign.
Everyone stood in silence, glancing at one another and then at Fehed and the body with bewildered expressions.
“Any other revelations?” asked Ryder, finally, glancing at each of the group.
“No. How about you, Corporal?” voiced Shiron.
“No,” answered Hellmann, sullenly.
“As you said, Frank: the Iranian found out ‘who’,” replied Kellar. Then, after a short pause, “Now we know why we’ve been so closely tracked; God knows how often the transmitter was used, or how many messages might have been left.”
“It has to be one of them,” shot Shiron, glancing angrily at Fehed and Afari. “To believe otherwise is too hard to accept.”
They all nervously glanced at one another again.
“I’ll get it out of the little shit,” spat Hellmann, making a move towards Fehed.
Ryder quickly looked at Shiron expecting him to intervene, but the sergeant said nothing.
If you’re not stepping in, I will. Ryder moved swiftly, standing in front of Fehed, pointing his automatic at Hellmann’s throat.
“Back off, Corporal.”
Hellmann reluctantly moved back.
Shiron remained silent too, looking intently at Ryder.
“He did not do this!” Afari intervened, “He is innocent; he would not kill his friend.”
With the exception of Ryder and Fehed, all eyes turned to her.
“So it’s you then,” said Sicano, looking as if he was about to grab her but she swiftly drew pistol and pointed it straight at his head. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” she said menacingly.
“Okay, let’s establish a few facts before anyone starts accusing,” Ryder said, calming things down a little. “Who’s missing a blade?”
They looked and all had a knife sheathed. The killer had used Saad’s own.
Ryder eyed each man closely; none had blood on hands or clothes.
“Did anyone see or hear anything unusual during the night?”
Kellar answered, “At the beginning of my watch, a mist was down and I couldn’t see more than a few yards, I thought I heard a thud and a cough, but dismissed it.”
Afari then said she heard a scraping noise, but the others said they heard nothing.
Everything was now out in the open; the trust needed to accomplish the mission had completely evaporated. Which one of these men could kill so violently and why?
Ryder faced a dilemma: should they abandon th
e mission or carry on? He would let the others decide. “With what’s happened, do we continue? From now on each of us will be watching his back – not good for what we have in mind. Trust is paramount; you know that.” He looked at the Israelis.
“This will not stop us completing the mission… I say shoot him so we don’t have to watch our backs and let’s get on with what we came here to do,” said Shiron firmly, glancing at Hellmann who nodded in agreement. “What about you, Frank?” he questioned.
Ryder had come this far and was not about to give up either now they were in sight of the objective. “I’m with you,” he shot back then looked at the two Americans for their response.
Both threw glances at one another before Sicano spoke, “Maybe we should abort under the circumstances, Frank, and go for the Gulf.” A long pause, “But if you guys are prepared to take the risk, then so are we. Count us in, but we want that shit,” he glanced at Fehed, “properly secured and guarded. You agree with that, Bear?”
Kellar nodded.
“That man you call a ‘shit’ saved our asses flying that helicopter, or had you forgotten?” Ryder angrily replied. “But if it makes you feel better we’ll do it. Once we’ve eyeballed the mountain then we’ll decide what to do with him.”
The Americans looked a little sheepish but seemed satisfied at getting what they wanted.
Ryder wanted it that way too, for the time being anyway, to let the Americans and Israelis focus anger on the Iranian, taking the attention away from themselves and hopefully encouraging the real killer to drop his guard and make a mistake that might expose him. He was convinced Fehed was not the killer, or Afari for that matter. The Iranian looked as if he hadn’t the strength – although he did handle that helicopter without showing a great deal of fatigue – and no way could she deliver a blow like that. Whoever killed Saad was an expert and strong to have made such a thrust at that angle; he would not have known what hit him. They would be playing a very dangerous game now until the killer was exposed. He wondered if all this was worth the ‘Queen’s shilling’; a cigarette now would certainly ease the stress he felt at this moment. Mouth real dry; he took a swig of water from his flask instead; a sick, anxious feeling tugging at his gut.
Ryder looked over to Afari and saw shock and horror on her features no doubt wondering, after what had happened, who she could trust. He couldn’t blame her; of the five Iranians starting out only two were left. Who would be next? She looked vulnerable and seemed to be struggling within, but suddenly rallied, stared at him and asked quietly, more as a statement than a question, “We were never going to the Gulf in the first place, were we?”
Everyone focused on Ryder.
“No, we were not.” It was time she and Fehed heard the truth. “See that big mountain over there,” he pointed to the range dominating the horizon. “We’re going to check it out then we’ll head for the Gulf.”
Afari looked at Fehed who could only stare back, stunned, “For what reason?” she questioned, sharply.
He nodded towards the two Israelis. “They believe it might house a base intending to launch missiles at Israel; if so, they want to try and disable it somehow, with our help.”
Ryder could almost see Afari’s mind gauging the significance of what she had just heard. He guessed this might present an unexpected opportunity to gain revenge big-time on the regime that killed her parents, despite the uncertainty of everything that Saad’s death now presented.
Moments later she turned and looked at him straight in the eye and said, voice tense and full of emotion, “I will join you and so will Fehed; he is a brave man.”
He was relieved; they would need all the firepower available if a base did exist. But the question of Fehed remained in the air.
“Okay, it’s your choice,” he shot back. “So, we stay with the plan and take the Iranian with us. I want him kept secure, and you, Sergeant,” he looked at Kellar, “will be responsible to ensure he remains that way.” He glanced around the circle of taut, bewildered faces, dwelling on the two Americans, then the two Israelis and thought, one of you four is a killer, before barking, “Bury the man and let’s move out.”
20
At the centre of the wide valley plain the file of six silent men and one woman, led by Shiron with Ryder bringing up the rear, reached the edge of a saline marsh criss-crossed by narrow streams. The streams, as far as Ryder could tell, were less than knee-deep and easy to negotiate. But the openness of the whole area, stretching for several miles, would leave them highly exposed, especially as there were clear signs of human habitation in the form of small huts and dirt tracks scattered over the marsh. After scanning the flats with his glasses, Ryder decided it was far too risky to cross in daylight and ordered the group to rest until darkness arrived. Finding a shallow gully, lined with rock and bush which gave an unobstructed view for miles around between vegetation on the rim, they kept together within sight of one another and bedded down to get some sleep. Sicano and Kellar took the first watch.
A few hours later, on his watch with Afari late in the afternoon, Ryder turned to the Iranian. She looked tired and worn out. He felt a pang of concern, if not guilt, at what they were expecting of her; the brutal death of Saad may have been the last straw, shattering her resolve, making her regret the decision to join them. Maybe he could talk her into getting away whilst she still had the chance. He said in a low, soft voice, “If a base exists it’ll be tough – if not suicidal – attempting to get inside and disable. You prepared to risk that?”
She gave him a wary, piercing look but did not answer, ignoring him and glancing away, her cocked pistol held firmly in one hand, finger on the trigger.
“You don’t have to do this,” he pressed, knowing full well the kind of dangers they would face if they had to enter that mountain, especially with a killer in tow. “None of us would feel bad if you were to leave now and make for the Gulf.”
She swung back and hissed, “Fehed would,” her wide, defiant eyes boring into him, “you think I can just skulk away because the going gets tough after all I and Fehed have been through? I will not leave him. He did not kill Saad; they were good friends… no, I could not leave him; we will take our revenge together, or die in the attempt.” She stared hard at him and then spat, “Do not speak to me of this again.”
He was taken aback by the sharp rebuke; little doubt she was determined as ever to see it through. It was time to tell her what he thought. “If it’s any consolation I do not believe your friend is the killer either – or you for that matter.”
She turned fully towards him, an expression of surprise etched on her features. “And why is that?” she whispered with a thin smile.
“Because Fehed and you wouldn’t have known the objective prior to today; the note I found proves it. Anyhow, what possible motive could you have for doing it? You all had good reasons to destroy the regime, not yourselves. Besides, that knife thrust would’ve taken a great deal of strength to execute. No disrespect, but you both don’t look capable.”
“You suspect anyone?” she asked, voice tense, taking furtive glances over at the others out of earshot several yards away.
He struggled to believe it could be one of the Americans, even one of the Israelis, but it had to be one of them and if forced to choose, Shiron or Hellman would be the first in line, but he replied, “No. What about you?”
He could see by the sudden change in her body language and expression she was considering that he might be the killer. “I do not know. All I know is that we,” she glanced over to where Fehed lay, “did not do this.” She paused, looking him straight in the eye, “You are British; why were you in an Iranian prison? You said you are SAS, has that something to do with it?” she probed, obviously trying to eliminate him from suspicion.
“Ex SAS.”
“If you are a civilian; why do you lead? And what are you doing here in my country?”
“Good questions.” She deserved to know the truth but it could not be told. “To your f
irst question: been here before, understand a bit about the culture, and I do have a military background. And, as you know, the others wanted it that way.” He paused for a reaction, but none came, so he continued, “To your second: I suppose ‘working holiday’ would cover it; selling engine parts when arrested, not sure why.” He’d kept it short and uncomplicated but could tell she was not convinced, eyeing him with some uncertainty. He wanted to convince her. “If you suspect me; forget it, trust me, I’m on your side. I have no reason to even be here, or the Americans, we are passengers. Fate threw us into this situation just like you. What possible motive could I have for killing your countryman like that? The Israelis apparently always had this mountain as their objective; we joined them to help find what they were looking for. Maybe they have something to hide?” Weak, he agreed, but that was all he could think of.
She seemed to relax a little, uncocked the pistol but kept it firmly within her grip. Energy seemed to drain from her and the conversation ended. Suddenly, she pointed towards the horizon. Ryder followed her gaze, raised binoculars, and saw in the distance plumes of dust in the direction of the mountains they had left twenty-four hours earlier.
“What could it be?” she shot.
“By the size of the plume, I’d guess trucks – and heading our way.”
“How far?”
“Five – six miles… four vehicles.” Ryder let the glasses drop and pulled out a map. “No roads shown; must be a dirt track.” Raising binoculars again he scanned the surrounding ground. “There’s a broad track on the other side of that stream; it fords the stream and runs right past our position.” Seconds later, “Shit; it’s the one they’re on.”
Afari looked through her glasses, confirming Ryder’s fears, then back again to the plume. “Much closer now; we need to find cover,” she said urgently.
Ryder called to the others telling them to gather equipment and conceal themselves as best they could. The gully gave scant cover but all quickly found a bush big enough to scramble under hard against the six-foot-high, sharply rising bank on the track side, hopefully giving maximum concealment from above.