Exit Plan

by Larry Bond

  The car rocked and wobbled across the uneven ground onto the shoulder, then up onto the smoother pavement. Yousef accelerated quickly and smoothly.

  “The dirt road will be on the left,” Ramey called to Fazel, who translated for Yousef. The Iranian nodded, his eyes ahead, accelerating. Shirin fiddled with her GPS device, but quickly announced, “The road is not on the map.” Jerry thought that was a good thing.

  How long would it take to drive five-plus kilometers? They all watched the road and the black landscape, except for Jerry, who could see little but the car’s upholstery and combat boots. The enforced inactivity gave him time to think—and to remember: Higgs’s disfigured body on the deck, his own sense of failure as the ASDS went down, and the long, cold swim to an unfriendly beach.

  All he had to do was pilot the SEALs to a point off the beach, wait, and then take them back to Michigan. There had been no way to predict the battery fire, or any way to save Higgs. But it was his boat and Higgs had been his responsibility.

  Jerry was still trying to shake off the thought when Ramey called, “There!” and pointed ahead and to the left.

  Yousef held his speed as long as possible, then braked smoothly and turned onto the gravel access road. Thankfully, the car quickly slowed to a fast walk, making the ride bumpy but not bone-shattering. Jerry heard Ramey say, “Lights,” with Fazel repeating it in Farsi, but Yousef was already turning off the headlights as he spoke. What little light they’d had was replaced with a single narrow beam from Ramey’s flashlight. Although the SEALs had night-vision gear, Yousef did not, and Ramey kept the beam centered on the road in front of them. Yousef slowed the car even more.

  Still pinned in the backseat, seeing only blackness out the windows, Jerry could only wait as the car crept forward on the access road. He could tell when the gravel stopped after a short while, giving way to a rougher dirt track, either poorly maintained or never more than crudely graded.

  “There’s the tower. Let’s stop here.” Ramey hopped down from the car as it rolled to a stop, his rifle already sweeping half the horizon. Phillips repeated the lieutenant’s actions on his side. They were both using their night-vision scopes.

  They opened the rear doors, and Jerry and the two SEALs almost tumbled out of the backseat, gratefully stretching. The SEALs quickly found their gear in the trunk and reequipped themselves. Jerry, still unfamiliar with the equipment, fumbled in the darkness for a moment before getting it right.

  Phillips reported, “There’s a cut in the hill off the right. It looks like a good spot to hide the car.”

  With his scope, Ramey completed a quick sweep of the terrain. He couldn’t make out a lot of detail, but what he could see told him the ground was rough, hilly, and rocky. There were numerous dunes and shadowy gullies interspersed with more solid-looking rock outcrops and tufts of vegetation. Good ground, he thought to himself. Turning, he looked where Phillips was pointing. “Good, and there’s level ground leading up to it. Keep a watch to the south, Philly.”

  Phillips trotted off in the direction they’d come from, while Ramey and Fazel walked over to speak with the two Iranians. Jerry hurried over to join them, but Ramey didn’t wait for him. “Doc, tell him we can hide the car here and look for cover. This is a good location. We won’t have to break cover until the CRRC’s halfway to the beach.”

  While Fazel translated for Yousef, the lieutenant turned to Jerry. “I’m going to take Doc and Pointy and scout for a good hiding place for us, away from the car. Phillips will keep watch to the south, and I’d like you to stay here with the two civilians. Just back the car as far as you can into that notch in the hillside. Then sit tight.”

  “Of course,” Jerry acknowledged. “Should we cover up the car?”

  “No,” Ramey answered sharply. “You’d just make a bigger mess. My guys will take care of it when we get back from scouting.” Jerry bristled at the rebuke. Of course the SEALs could do a better job, but the lieutenant’s hostility was unnecessary.

  Three of the SEALs disappeared into the darkness, and with Phillips on watch to the south, Jerry was alone with the two Iranians. The woman, Shirin, looked at him expectantly, and after a moment, he turned on his own flashlight.

  With Shirin translating Jerry’s directions, Yousef backed the battered sedan slowly into the crevice. While relatively level, the ground was uneven enough to require care, or the Peykan might have gotten stuck, or worse.

  At its opening, the cut was almost twenty feet wide, made by water in the steep slopes of a barren hillside. Jerry tugged and rolled a few large rocks out of the way to clear a path for the car, but the gap was deep enough so that the car was completely inside, with almost a full car length separating it from the front.

  Once he’d made sure they could still open the doors and that there was a clear path out, Jerry stood near the opening, staring into the dark and hoping that he wouldn’t see anything. Behind him, Yousef folded a blanket to make a place for his wife, and helped her sit. She drank some water from a bottle he carried, then leaned back against the wall of the crevice.

  Still watching, Jerry picked his way over to where the two sat. He asked Shirin, “Are you hungry? I have some MREs.” Seeing her expression, he explained, “Some field rations—food.” Taking off his backpack, he found a plastic package and offered it to her.

  She looked over to her husband and spoke. He answered by nodding, and she said, tentatively, “I am a little hungry.”

  Jerry had to open the outer package with his knife. Working by feel, he found something that felt like an energy bar and tore open the wrapper. She accepted it, and tasting it, nodded her appreciation. Jerry handed the rest of the package to Yousef, who sorted through the contents, asking Shirin and Jerry about the labels and ingredients.

  A few minutes later, Jerry thought he heard something, but before he could react the three SEALs were back. Instead of a scouting report, Ramey asked, “What are they eating? Is that one of your MREs?” His tone was harsh, like a parent catching a child in some offense.

  “Yes, Lieutenant,” Jerry emphasized the second word slightly, “I thought it might be good for them to eat something.”

  “No ranks, sir,” Jerry heard Ramey’s emphasis on the last word. “We can’t leave any trace of our presence. A piece of an MRE package would be a dead giveaway we were here. Please police the area carefully. The only thing I’m willing to leave behind is our footprints, and I wish I could avoid that.”

  “Right,” Jerry replied, being careful to keep his voice neutral. “Did you find a place?”

  “It’s about a kilometer from here, but it’s ideal. It’s a small cave, but it’s big enough for all of us. It’s got overhead cover and has a good view of the approaches.”

  The SEALs went to work hiding the car. Each carried a section of camouflage netting. They combined these into a single piece large enough to cover the car, then added brush and rocks to break up its outline.

  Yousef and Shirin stood to one side. She was leaning on him, and although their expressions were hard to see, his arms encircled her protectively. Jerry could also sense defensiveness in his posture, his watchfulness of not only the activity with the car, but the other SEALs as well. He didn’t trust them, not yet anyway.

  Ramey took his time to step back and check their work from several directions, but they were still done in a few minutes. “Let’s get away from here,” he ordered over the headset. “Diamond formation.”

  Jerry and the two Iranians were quickly corralled in the center of the formation, following Ramey. The other SEALs screened to the back, and both sides. They set off at a brisk pace, but had to slow when first Jerry, then Shirin, stumbled on the uneven surface. Grudgingly, Ramey promised to follow a smoother path.

  There was enough starlight to see the ground, but not enough to reveal every obstacle. Yousef was especially solicitous toward his wife after her near fall, but she waved him off.

  It was impossible to gauge distance in the dark. Jerry thought of
counting footsteps, but his stride across the landscape was too irregular. He decided it would be best to just concentrate on watching Ramey ahead of him and picking his footing based on how he moved.

  How far was a kilometer? Better than half a mile. In the dark? On an unfamiliar landscape? After a bone-chilling hour-long swim? He definitely hadn’t planned on this when he’d gotten up this morning. He was breathing hard, and felt like he’d already run miles.

  He wasn’t the only one showing signs of fatigue. Shirin was moving more slowly, now leaning heavily on Yousef. The SEALs seemed unaffected by the evening’s intense physical activity.

  Jerry marveled a little when he thought about the husband. A captain in the Pasdaran. They were supposed to be Iran’s shock troops, politically reliable and completely devout. What had turned him against his own service?

  He tried to focus on the plan. They’d hole up tonight and tomorrow, then Michigan would launch a CRRC. They’d break cover once it was en route, meet on the beach, and an hour later they’d be back aboard. They were in a bad spot, but they hadn’t been detected, and they had a plan.

  Ramey motioned for Lapointe to go ahead; he ran to the cave and did a quick inspection. Jerry heard his report in his headset. “It’s still clear, Boss.”

  A low line of hills loomed ahead, and they retraced the SEALs’ earlier path. Turning right toward a high bank, then following it back, they came to a place where Lapointe stood next to a large shadow on the side of the bank.

  “Pointy, take the first watch, everyone else inside.” After giving the order, Ramey led the way. Once he was inside, he turned on his flashlight.

  Shirin was surprised by the intensity of the beam. It seemed like a big red floodlight to her night-adjusted eyes, and she turned to see if it revealed their position. But the beam was directed into the cave, and little of the light was reflected back out.

  When her eyes adjusted, she saw a space a little smaller than their bedroom. It was larger than she expected, but she hadn’t spent a lot of time in caves. Water had eaten away the earth under a layer of rock, so the cave had a relatively flat, but rough ceiling. The floor was hard-packed sand with a band of pebbles running down the center, almost a gravel path.

  Farther inside, Yousef was arranging a blanket for her to sit on. Suddenly she felt very tired, almost dizzy. With a small moan, she gratefully sank onto the spot, leaning back against the wall.

  The Americans all turned at the sound, and Fazel asked in Farsi, “Are you all right?” When she didn’t reply, he turned to Yousef. “Is your wife ill?”

  Yousef, still helping Shirin sit comfortably, answered, “Not sick. She’s pregnant.”

  The medic quickly knelt down beside her. One hand was on her wrist, taking her pulse. The other found her forehead. “How many weeks?”

  “Nineteen,” she answered almost automatically. She could see Yousef starting to protest. Normally such things were not discussed with strangers, but the American had medical training, and at least he spoke Farsi. Calming her husband with a hand on his arm, she said, “I’m just tired.” And under a great deal of stress, she added to herself, but that was understood.

  “I’m glad the walk wasn’t any longer,” the medic remarked. “You probably need something to eat, and please drink as much of that water as you can.” He indicated the bottle Yousef was holding. “We’ll make sure you have plenty of water.”

  Unslinging his pack, he pulled out a small square, which unfolded to a drab green thermal blanket. “Here. It will cool off tonight.” Shirin noticed Yousef scowling, and so did the American. He offered the blanket to her husband, who took it with a polite “Thank you.”

  Yousef covered her and tucked the edges in around her. Although it felt light and flimsy, she felt warmer almost immediately, and drowsy. She closed her eyes as the warmth embraced her.

  Yousef watched Shirin for a few minutes, peacefully asleep, then noticed the American medic doing the same thing on the other side. “I can take care of my wife,” he said sharply.

  “Of course,” the American replied coldly. “But her welfare affects all of us, and we don’t want to do anything that would endanger her and the baby.”

  “Isn’t it a little late for that?” Yousef asked angrily. “We’re hiding in a cave waiting for a boat to pick us up because you couldn’t keep your submarine from catching fire.”

  “Our comrade died in that fire—coming here because you asked us to.”

  Yousef shook his head. “It’s not my fault he died, and I’m not the person you’re here to rescue. You can’t get anything right.” He smiled at the American’s confusion, then pointed to his peacefully sleeping wife. “She’s the one who has given you so much information. Shirin is an engineer at the Natanz Uranium Enrichment Facility.” There was passion in his voice, and the words fell from him.

  “She’s risked her life for years collecting information on my country’s nuclear weapons program and sending it to your government. It’s not because we love America. I don’t believe America is our enemy, but you haven’t been our friend either. She was disgusted at how Iran has lied about making a bomb, and the waste of money and talent that have been spent on the program.”

  “What about you? You are Pasdaran. Surely—”

  “My reasons are personal, and just as strong as hers. I won’t betray my country, but we should not have nuclear weapons. They are un-Islamic.”

  “We won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to. You don’t even have to stay with us, if you think your chances are better on your own.”

  “No. We want to leave Iran any way we can.” Yousef was firm. He tilted his head toward Shirin. “She doesn’t want to go back to Natanz, no matter what. And neither of us want to go to Evin Prison.”

  The American nodded. “My parents told me stories about that place, both before and after the Revolution. And about the Pasdaran. The Basij beat my uncle until he was a cripple. The Revolutionary Guards seized my father’s business and drove my parents from their home.”

  Yousef wanted to say it was all lies, American propaganda, but he knew the stories were true-—about Evin, and the Pasdaran’s zealous cruelty. He’d been a good soldier, but the Pasdaran was corrupt. They had their fingers in civilian businesses all over Iran, and he’d heard how the generals lived, more like rich executives than soldiers of the Revolution. He was unwilling to agree with the American, but could not argue. In the end, Yousef said nothing.

  “I have to tell the others,” Harry explained, and stood.

  While Fazel had been taking care of Shirin, the others, with a few words from Ramey, had worked to improve their position. Jerry and Phillips camouflaged the cave mouth, while Ramey and Lapointe prepared firing positions, piling rocks and digging shallow ditches in the floor.

  “XO, Boss, you need to hear this,” Fazel called, then briefed Ramey and Jerry in a soft voice. Jerry was surprised to learn Shirin’s identity, and dismayed at her condition. It was a complication they could have done without. The lieutenant’s reaction was more extreme, almost hostile.

  “And the fun just keeps coming.” Ramey had been digging out a fighting position near the cave mouth. “Maybe I should just make this a little deeper and crawl in. Save us a lot of trouble.”

  Jerry said, “Matt, you can’t blame yourself—”

  “Shut up!” The SEAL’s vehemence shocked Jerry. Ramey had put one hand on his weapon, and Jerry wasn’t sure if it was just habit or deliberate intent. “It’s your fault Higgs is dead, and then you made us leave him behind. I should have left you and taken him instead. We don’t even know if he was really dead.”

  “He was dead, Lieutenant.”

  “So you say.”

  “I feel as bad about it as you do. I was responsible for him.”

  “Bullshit. You didn’t work and train with him for a year and a half. How many deployments had he been on? How well could he shoot? Do you even know if he was married?”

  The outburst had drawn everyone�
�s attention, although to Phillips’s credit, he continued to keep watch from just outside the cave mouth. Shirin was awake now, too, watching Ramey’s angry rant with a confused expression. Yousef sat next to her, looking concerned. He knew Jerry was the senior officer. He also knew the Americans had lost a man.

  Lapointe was the senior petty officer. Slowly easing himself over to Jerry, he said quietly, “Sir, let’s go outside. Doc, can you help the Boss with his position?”

  Gratefully, Jerry followed the petty officer outside. They found a spot a short distance from the cave, Lapointe sat down with his rifle across his knees.

  Jerry stood, leaning against the hillside. Thoughts flew though his mind. Ramey was clearly upset, grieving, under great stress. But that was no excuse for his outburst; naval discipline had just been shattered. Admittedly this wasn’t the usual senior-junior relationship. And weren’t they all under stress?