by Isaac Stormm
Foxmann, wearing similar goggles, saw the single line showing on the GPS display remain vertical and the chopper icon ride it. At the top of the screen, a cross appeared at the end of the line. The landing zone. Time to speak to the team for the first time.
“LZ five minutes out.” He flicked a switch and one of the doors began to slide back, a warm howling wind rustling through the compartment. Carlson placed a headset over his twin tube NVGs and listened for the pilot’s countdown. The rest of the team made final checks and adjusted their goggles. Some patted each other on the back to wish good luck or give reassurance. The crew chief signaled a thumbs up to them and they nodded or responded in kind.
The rushing wind began to subside. Forward motion of the chopper started easing rapidly. The streak of green through goggles begin to take on discernible shapes. The sight of terrain still remained unleveled and the chopper continued its breaking. There was no feeling of descent. Just the feeling of gravity pulling them backward with a weak hand. Then it started the sickening pull skyward of their stomachs and their throats as the descent started. Then it vanished and they felt the bird touch steady ground beneath them, dust teasing their nostrils and obscuring the zone in a hazy brown.
Carlson hung up the headset “Let’s go.” The team leaped out and scurried away. The rotors swirled the dust into a miniature tornado as the Stealth Hawk lifted off, flattening and sweeping a cloud of brown out over the team who turned away and covered their goggles from the departure. The chopper disappeared into the black, its sound racing behind it, vanishing, replaced at once by the chirp of crickets and a gentle breeze herding the warm Persian air along the floor of the landscape.
Carlson did a quick twirl, surveying the environment. The Stealth Hawk had set them on a small field about one hundred meters square. A steep but barren hillock was to his left and ahead while a rolling carpet of scrub grass and boulders were to his right and behind, leading out and up into a vast ridgeline covered in evergreens. He looked ahead again and saw it. The NVG fooling him during the initial sweep. A draw ahead, barely imperceptible, split the hillock. Through there, their journey began. He motioned for the team to gather around him.
Their approach sounded as the slightest of noises, as they rushed to his side. They took up a circular defensive position close enough to hear Carlson’s whispering while keeping weapons covering all directions.
“Alright. Where is he?” Carlson asked. He’d expected him to announce his presence once the chopper left. “He was supposed to meet us.” He tugged at Foxmann’s shoulder. “Go through that draw ahead. See if he’s there. If not, I’m requesting an immediate extraction.”
David said, “I’ll go,” and moved off in a low crouch. Carlson watched him grow smaller the next minute then vanish around the corner of the draw. He reemerged less than ten seconds later with this thumb high in the air and waving his hand.
“Allow me to lead?” Foxmann asked.
“Be my guest. We’ll take rear security. When dawn comes, we’ll switch.” He pulled the tablet out of its satchel and pressed the power switch. A screen blank to the naked eye, visible only to those wearing night vision, appeared. In the small keyboard beneath it he tapped in the first letters of the each word. “Pegasus away. Perseus walks the earth.” Foxmann did the same with his, and both received the word ‘Acknowledged’ in their language. “Move out.” David swept his arm forward and they were off in a partial crouch, spacing themselves ten feet apart. Foxmann took point followed by Carlson, then Quinn. The team headed for the draw, feeling the first nips of mosquitos at their exposed flesh welcoming them through the narrow passage where in an instant, they were swallowed up by the woods.
There the contact stood. A dark form whose face revealed itself as a man with a scant outline of a beard and probably in his early twenties. David whispered “Talon,” in Kurdish. The man shook his head quick, denying something. He muttered a stretch of words that sped past his tongue. They seemed in a race with his mind, pausing only to catch his breath. The explanation concluded in David’s ears and he turned to Carlson.
“The Iranians are in the village Buka where he stays. Came there this afternoon. Shacking up there’s out of the question. He says there’s a much smaller dwelling that should be clear. He knows the people there, they’ve sheltered fighters before. They’re loyal.”
“That wasn’t part of the plan.” Carlson exhaled in frustration. He moved closer to the man . “Translate for me. Ask him does he know why the Iranians came into the village?”
“For evacuation. All of them.”
“How many?”
“Forty-one, not counting him. His wife and child are among them. He’s been staying at a no name village, says a Guerilla band is helping him hide. It’s led by a guy named Cyrus and an adjutant named Wasir. They were supposed to come here. But they didn’t show.”
“Do they know about us?”
“Just the two men. No one else in the group was told.”
“Not good.”
“Why the hell would they evacuate a village?” Foxmann said. “Scorched earth? Has this happened before in the last weeks, months or year?”
“No,” Talon said.
Carlson watched the man rub his eyes, but was unable see any emotion.
“They arrived suddenly in trucks…Put the rest of the people in more trucks.”
Carlson pressed him further “Their daily routine. Do they work around the village?”
“Some do not. Most able-bodied men were returned to the village and forced to work in the mines this last week. The remainder, those too old or too young, worked in the woods and fields.”
“What mines? Where are they?” He started to compute at a hunch he knew that might provide the answer.
“From my village, five kilometers, over the hills.” He pointed in the direction of the team’s target location.
“They were expecting workers to get sick from the radiation. They have to take everyone, even those not exposed or the secret will be out,” David added.
“Agreed.” Carlson just realized the answer to his hunch. “We’ll inform Washington and Tel Aviv of the situation. Request permission to deviate from original plan. We’ll need to follow the contact to a new location expected to be safe. We’ll be able to continue the mission. It’s up to them.”
Again out came the tablets. Their fingers raced over the screen tapping away the new situation and proposal. They finished almost simultaneously, Foxmann nodding to Carlson, “We’re to continue,” he said. Carlson read, “Proceed with extreme caution,” from his.
“Alright.” Carlson pressed his hand to his neck, crushing a feasting mosquito. He scratched the irritant away, feeling the blood smear into a rough topping. “How far is the other village?”
“Four kilometers.”
“Let’s move out.”
The group took their positions with the man at the head. “What’s his name?”
“Don’t know, for security reasons. Just his code word. Want me to ask?”
“No.” No sense in raising the stakes in case of capture.
The team sat in a well-spaced circle, the forest’s heavy overcast keeping out even the starlight. For the last two and a half hours, the terrain over which they negotiated ranged from difficult to worse than anticipated. They almost had to resort to mountain climbing to get over one hill which shot almost vertically with sharp abutments of rock. It took the wind out of all of them and now thirty minutes on, Talon notified them that over the next ridge they would run into a trail that led them to the village.
Carlson ordered them to take their first swig of water. It was verging on warm but provided a cool enough respite for the team. The weight of the NVGs was starting to tell and foreheads were becoming sore and itchy without a counterweight to balance the devices. Most yearned to take them off if only for a few minutes. All knew it was a luxury unavailable as it was much too dangerous to be blind right now.
“Come with me,” Carlson said to Fo
xmann. “I want to take a look at the top of that ridge.” He gestured toward Talon. “Bring him along.”
The three trudged up the soft leafy floor, reaching out to grip trunks to steady themselves. It grew darker than dark, NVGs struggling to provide enough ambient light to guide. It gave the sense that except for the green shadows of trees and branches that became more difficult to discern with each step they seem to be going up inside some endless cave. When they crested the ridge, more light than ever before returned and they scanned the outline of a dwelling glowing bright with a cooking fire. Figures that looked of similar height and dress seemed to be standing guard. When they turned to show their backs, thin rod-like protrusions poked above their shoulders indicating they had weapons slung. They all tended to keep an eye on a small band of what looked to be villagers huddling around the flame.
Carlson's cautious optimism crashed. "What the hell is going on?" His voice raised just above audible, almost hissing. "Ask him. I want to know now." He continued observing until Foxmann finished. He looked at both of them and saw Talon shaking his head again.
"He says he doesn't know. Something caused them to come into the village."
"That's it then." Carlson did his best to stay in a whisper, the damn frustration welling more intense by the second. A lesser man may have begun hurling accusations. His professionalism forbade that, and he calmed himself by closing his eyes and slowing his breathing. "Let's get back,” he said. He suppressed the will to grab someone, anyone or even anything and pound his anger out. That he would save for a wall when he got home.
They made their way back down, almost sliding in the process. A few careful holds and Carlson eased back into the center of the circle. "I’m sending the following." He had the tablet out before the next words. "New location occupied by troops. Situation too dangerous. Request immediate extraction."
"Wait a minute, Major. You can't do that." Foxmann reached out to cover the tablet screen. "There is another alternative."
"This mission is over. Too many uncertainties." He had no interest in hearing the man's words.
"The original village. We still can make it before sunrise. If the Iranians evacuated everyone, they may be gone by now."
"I'm not debating this." He pulled the tablet free. "I’m sending the message."
“I’ll inform Tel Aviv of the situation.” Foxmann looked right at Carlson, almost as if in a dare. “Tell them we would still like to continue on, but the Americans request withdrawal. Advise course of action.”
Carlson wasn’t arguing the matter. There was enough danger for his side to prevail and no matter what the Israeli response was, he was leaving. No more risks. Common sense must rule. And as he sent the message, he knew the Stealth Hawk would be airborne, per Washington’s orders, within the hour once he gave coordinates, to swoop from the sky after they back-tracked to the LZ.
Azerbaijan
The Israeli operator adjusted the contrast as the twin messages came through. “That’ll break the team up. It mustn’t happen.”
“What the hell should they do, then?” Martin’s curious look went unnoticed.
“Continue on. The distance to the original village isn’t that far out of the way.” He waited for the message to send, then the response. Tel Aviv of course was first. “Continue alone.” No surprise.
Grozner said. “Request urgent permission to speak with Washington. Imperative.”
“Damn it.” M didn’t know why he felt he could make a difference when the Head of State couldn’t. The urgency gnawed at his gut. He was always taught to adapt and overcome as is gospel in all Special Forces. Right now, that meant disobeying orders and putting his career on the line. “Hand me the headset.” He slipped it over his ears and positioned the mike. “Connect me to your people.”
“Colonel, I can’t do that.” Martin’s face drew up in shock that the man would even venture such a request.
“Listen, I’ll explain later. We must stay together. If we can get into the village, there may be evidence we can find. If we can’t get to it, we can call the whole thing off… But not until then. Please connect me.”
“Okay. You’ll take the fall. Not me.” He punched in a code that signaled a shift to voice frequency.
High-pitched beeping sounded three times then someone clicked on. “Anderson.”
“Mister President. This is Colonel Jessy Foxmann overall commander of the Israeli portion of this operation.” He adjusted the mic closer then started slow. “My government does not know I’m speaking to you right now. So please understand I’m only doing this because I feel a grave mistake is being made by acknowledging your people’s request to withdraw.”
“Colonel, I understand your concern. But since they’ve been on the ground, they been modifying the mission, looking for some results. I cannot in good faith keep this huge risk hanging over their heads. If they get caught—”
“I understand.” He couldn’t believe he just cut the man off. “We’re still undiscovered. And we can obtain vital information. We can even modify the plan further by going directly to the mine and sleeping in the forest instead of the village.”
“I’m afraid that is out of the question. I’ve already given the order to withdraw to our unit. Your people can continue on if they want, but it will be without an American hand. To show you we are committed to this operation should your people decide to stay, I will have the team stand by as part of a rescue force should it occur that you need extraction at any time and also to secure the landing zone if you remain undiscovered and make it out at the scheduled time.”
“Mister President,” he kept on keeping the words slow and clear, “to be cautious at this juncture when there’s still a light left at the end of the tunnel will only serve to drive a wedge between my government and yours.”
“That’s a risk I’m afraid we’ll have to take. I’m sorry we don’t see eye to eye. But the situation can unravel too quickly. Should you continue on as planned and honor the extraction date both countries originally agreed to, we will still provide the helicopter.”
“Sir, I wish there was something more to say. I feel a grave loss of faith between our two countries after tonight.”
“I’m sorry, Colonel.” Anderson paused before continuing. “I see things much differently. Rest assured if the rest of the team can produce any evidence of Iran’s activities, we will stand side by side with you.”
“Better if your people stay with us. I implore you.”
There were several seconds of silence then, “Listen, I’ll leave it up to Carlson. He sees the big picture. What does he think?”
Carlson looked off for a moment then said, “Given what’s at stake, I better stay. But only with your permission.”
“Agreed. You can stay.”
“That’s it then,” Foxmann said. “You may continue leading us, Major.”
“I’ve worked under him for seven years. He’s not a confrontational man. Believes talking things through produces better results. I was surprised he signed on to do this, actually,” Martin said of Anderson.
“But not so much surprise as when he tried to abandoned it just now, correct?” the operator spoke.
“You could say that.” Martin gave an easy slap of the man’s shoulder. ”I have a feeling he’d like to restart talks with the heads in Iran, that’s why he was unsure.”
“Impossible if we find evidence. My God man. What is going on with your government?” He shot out the question hoping Martin possessed some background to the political gamesmanship that Anderson played by. Fat chance.
“Iraq. A peace platform candidate. Got us out of the shit we caused in the Middle East. Pull out everywhere. Turn their affairs back over to them.” Martin shrugged. “Something like that I suppose is the driving force.”
“And everything goes to hell. ISIS rises in Iraq, the Taliban resurges in Afghanistan. Al-Quada runs Yemen. Everything worse than before September 11. Do your people know just how close we are to a world catastrophe?
”
“We in the Agency have to obey orders from all presidents no matter their courage or lack of.”
“No. Martin, I don’t mean the C.I.A. I mean the American citizen. I’ve seen stories on television, in newspapers, that all this craziness seems so far away. It’s the rest of the world’s problem. America no longer wants to speak up, let alone lead. It’s a change I’ve noticed and I’m afraid for your country, that it’s become complacent and will suffer another bloodbath.”
“Look, the average guy on the street doesn’t give a damn,” Martin replied. “That’s not news. We in the Agency and in all the rest of the departments do. But no matter what we may personally think, we have to enforce the policies of the president, just as you with Mr. Grozner.” He stopped a second then added, “So our countries don’t see eye to eye, what the hell can we do about it. It’s not the first time—“
“No. It’s very different now. A World War may be on the verge of happening.”
“I’m sure he knows that. He gets briefed all the time. Let me advocate for him, if I can. He wants there to be evidence. Probably as much as your prime minister. He just doesn’t show it. He also does not want to see the remains of a Special Forces team splayed all over the Muslim world with someone having been tortured into betraying their identity.”
“Martin, his caution almost increased the chances of that happening by splitting the team up.”
“I’m sorry. That’s the way it goes.” He started to exit the vehicle.
Outskirts of Buka
6:26 A.M.
Shadows slowly retreated over Buka revealing the sand-colored houses that, from Foxmann’s viewpoint, seemed to melt into an endless maze. Through the binoculars, no sign of activity presented itself save for a couple of goats in a small pen twitching their tails. The new sun was aglow on the horizon and as the shadows continued to evaporate, from deep within the foliage atop a small ridge, with the NVGs and their pouches, Foxmann and Carlson scanned the road running through the center of the place where the houses blocked further view. It appeared to have a bit of elevation to it before reaching them and from what he could see, showed signs of heavy vehicles with their treaded imprint deep through the countless treks of hoof and cart.