A Touch Of War: A Military Thriller Novel

by Isaac Stormm

  “First time I ever seen a civilian do that. Well, maybe in the movies. You’re a good man, Talon,” David continued.

  “Let’s load these bodies in the back. We’ll dump them in the forest on our way. If anyone tries to stop us, well, I don’t need to tell you, that we’ll have to fight it out, maybe even abandon the mission. But not before. We got a chance to use these wheels to our advantage now.” He picked up the legs of one of the Iranians. “Let’s get started.”

  Moving the bodies was not difficult. Searching revealed coins and Iranian Rial money notes amounting to about $32 in total. It was clear these men were just your run-of-the-mill rear echelon types, carrying weapons more as a status symbol than being proficient with them. Maybe that is why the driver dared not stop to get a single shot off at his pursuer. Once the last body was heaved aboard in a neat stack on the floor, Foxmann set their weapons, old G3 rifles firing 7.62 NATO rounds from a 20-round magazine, abreast behind the cab window, pulled the heavy canvas tarp back over the support braces of the compartment, and raised the gate.

  “Carlson, with me up front. I’ll drive.” Foxmann motioned to him. “The rest of you guys get in back. I know it can be a shit sandwich for a little while until we get rid of these bodies, but at least they don’t smell right now.”

  “Not going to be long until they do in this heat.” Quinn sat down on the bench to rest his boots on the chest of one of the corpses. “At least it’s soft.” He smiled.

  Foxmann shot a grin back and headed for the door. He pulled the heavy device open and stepped up into the cab. The truck was an old Soviet GAZ type, probably 30 years on and when he turned the engine over and heard that diesel start to stutter, it was still supremely reliable. He closed the door, double clutched and moved the tall shift lever forward. The brown haze spewed again, and it began to roll forward. He shifted again, bringing the revs up a little more as the last house passed them by. The open road through the scrub grass on toward the mountains presented a system that if one were to take the time and view it for a while would present the harmony of peace and relaxation; he was sure of that because it seemed similar views existed in Lebanon in northern Israel near the Golan Heights. The seat was comfortable if not a little slick and he moved the lever again, the transmission screeching before finding third gear. Looking down at the speedometer, he was approaching 60 km, roughly 36 miles per hour. That would be enough and the gas tank dial looked a little below half-full. Plenty enough to get them to the place he had in mind. If everything worked out, they could ditch the bodies and still keep the truck to get back to the LZ with.

  He let out a sigh and continued letting his eyes dart across the landscape. His revealing calm caused Carlson to look over at him.

  “Thinking we have an advantage, huh.”

  “Time-wise, yes. Everything else is as it was. Get on the horn, tell them we got a set of wheels from an ambush. None of us were hurt and no one detected us.”

  A sentence streamed across the tablet after the message was sent. “Ah, it seems we might have a little trouble after all.”

  “More patrols?”

  “Weather. Seems there’s a storm front heading our way…will be here by tonight.”

  Foxmann rolled his eyes. “Shit, they told us we’d be in the clear.”

  “Arriving between twenty two and twenty three hundred hours, tonight. Heavy rain, lightning. Winds blowing at between twenty and thirty miles per hour.”

  The truck bounced over hidden rocks and started up an incline. The forest edge enveloped around them making the road appear narrower. Foxmann looked for anyplace to turn off, the vegetation lining both sides appeared too thick, preening with sturdy trunks. He downshifted and took a chance anyway turning right, plowing through branch-laden greenery ripping the truck side against a large tree whose branches slammed against the windshield. He pressed the brake, sliding the truck against another tree which it bowled over, and jerked his head toward the door. It stopped just inches from impact and he realized he just avoided a concussion or worse. No time to reflect, he clicked the door latch and pushed it open, planting his feet firm and moving to the rear. He lowered the gate. “All right, get them out. This will have to do; I don’t want to take a chance going any further. Stack them here.” He grabbed the shoulders of one corpse, David and Quinn helping push it out. He drug it a few feet away and released it, looking for a moment at the face. It was just a kid, probably no more than 18 years old. A one in a million fate that placed him in that village when they were there. He concluded the end of his moment of mourning, and watched the others being carried up to the kid’s side, then he had another idea. “Spread them out. It’ll look too professional stacking them and make sure the bodies have their holes facing you.” He helped David and Quinn toss theirs into a vat of bushes, “Get the rifles. Pull some rounds from each magazine. Make it look like they were fired. I want this to look like an ambush site.” In the oft chance they were discovered, he hoped the lack of spent casings would be overlooked, and that whoever did find them be kept guessing by the lack of I.D. which the Israelis retrieved. Anyone stumbling upon them, and that’s pretty much what had to happen, would ask themselves two questions: Kurdish guerrillas killed them? Most likely. Somebody else? Not sure. And that’s what he hoped for. The only thing he was worried about now was the smell. The rain might prove to be valuable in this.

  “How close do you want to get with the truck?” Carlson asked.

  “About two miles. I don’t want to cut it any closer.”

  Carlson looked at Quinn walking past. “Go check and make sure the road’s clear.”

  The men began climbing back aboard. Foxmann waited till they were out of sight before adding, “If this thing works out, we might just have an extra space on the chopper for Talon. It may violate orders, but I’ll speak on his behalf when we get back. Don’t tell him, though.” He didn’t suspect there would be much of a protest when they found out what Talon had done for them back in the village.

  He surveyed the site and could see none of the bodies. Then he climbed back into the cab, started the truck up, backing it into reverse, and turned it around, trying to bring it back on the path they made through the forest. There was still plenty of vegetation that covered their tracks. Quinn motioned them past to the road then hopped aboard. As they turned and started heading away, he confirmed that their off-road excursion didn’t disturb much of the foliage along the road and gave a thumbs up to Foxmann who turned the wheel quick to the left to take a tight corner. He figured they would drive for two and a half, maybe three miles, then head into the forest again. When the rains came, he wanted to be within at least half a mile of the mine. This is where it might get dicey if intelligence was wrong and the Iranians still had patrols. A game of cat and mouse in the dark with a pouring sky would add its own brand of confusion.

  “I see the team has spilled some blood,” Grozner said to Philpot on the phone while looking over a form explaining a bill he intended to put forth to the Knesset. “Probably unavoidable, though. They’ve disposed of the bodies and are using their transportation. They’ll be on target much sooner,” he added. “Anything rumbling in the intel section about the international scene?”

  “No one has reported any change in their communications. There might be something of substance to a small article I read in the paper this morning. I’m in the process of finding the reporter who wrote it. It says Tehran may be ready to allow inspections of its military sites. The ones believed to harbor centrifuges.” The softness of his breathing covered the several seconds pause by Grozner.

  “What the hell? They have to be up to something.”

  “Yes. I’m thinking along the same lines. Trouble is, if it’s correct, it could take the Americans out of the picture altogether. Anderson would love to have more negotiations and names on papers he could show the world.”

  “Not if we present the evidence they’ve been lying all along.”

  “Which is why I believe the import
ance of success for this mission may have just increased tenfold.” He laid the paper down, its important passages memorized. “I can see us at the U.N. presenting the physical evidence to the Security Council. At that moment, what will be in question is whether the Americans will stand by us. Even if they believe it. Or will this new offer to give access be pressed upon us as being a viable alternative to finding out the truth.”

  “Our next battleground.”

  Grozner rubbed his chest. “Have you gotten any rest?”

  “No. They’ve got a cot in one of the buildings I’m hitting after I hang up. In fact, here comes my relief now.”

  “Good. I know the next few hours might be tense but get the rest anyway. You said late tonight they’ll radio they are starting for the target?”

  “Yes, ten p.m. They’ll be inside the mine before twelve p.m. if all is well.

  “I will say a prayer, my friend.”

  “I wish the whole nation could.”

  “Goodbye.” He heard the line go silent and took another sip of coffee. He picked up the folded newspaper resting on page three. He didn’t believe for a second that this was just coincidence. Something was up, beyond what he ever expected after Iran got the bomb. Extend an olive branch. Make nice. Buy time. Try to gain allies, perhaps in the White House. Disarm Israel’s evidence.

  He pressed the speaker button calling the secretary. “I need to speak with Cara Hambleton. She’s a writer for the Associated Press and is based in Europe.” He put it back down and rested his chin on his knuckles and closed his eyes, thinking about the evidence and how much the team would be able to bring back. For some reason, a feeling of loneliness began to plague him. It might just as well be the whole country, he thought. If things go a certain way and that seemed a little more likely now that the Iranians wanted to talk again, the whole nation was going to feel this way at some point. Better to get used to it for himself right now instead of when the accusations began at the U.N. when he personally presented evidence. No, nobody knew that he was going to do that, yet. He had thought about it the moment he heard of the detonation, telling no one. A man of his stature needed to be there in person to confront the Iranians. He planned on keeping it a secret until the time to leave for New York.

  The phone buzzed. “What did you find out?”

  “Cara Hambleton is based in Berlin, Germany,” she said. “She apparently joined the Associated Press two years ago. She’s somewhat young. Twenty-five. I sent word to our embassy to get in touch with her. They’ll call us within the hour.”

  “Very good. I’ll be here.”

  Another ring. This time it was Philpot.

  “I thought you might like to know,” he said, “that we recovered the intruder we shot down yesterday. It was a drone. He was clocked around sixty miles per hour starting on a downward trajectory just before it was hit. It was found to have carried a five-pound charge of plastic explosive. I have to add that we’ve never seen anything like this before; it is still mostly intact and if you’d like I can bring it to your office and show you what I’m talking about.”

  Grozner tightened his face in curiosity. “My God. That small.”

  “Yes. This is a dangerous shift in tactics and I might add that we got this one only because fragments from one of our rockets penetrated to its circuitry. That’s not the worst of it, though. This one was hit just inside the border with Lebanon at about one thousand feet. We calculated its possible target and determined the only thing in its path worth hitting was a children’s school just outside a kibbutz. If they can get enough of these things and use them as a swarm…”

  “Just about anything in this country could be at their mercy,” Grozner replied.

  “Yes. They could even use them simultaneously from Gaza, the West Bank, and Lebanon. It’ll open vulnerabilities we never thought possible.”

  “I look forward to seeing this thing in person. Could you have it here by three o’clock this afternoon?” An amber light blinked on the phone dock. “If you’ll excuse me, I have another call.”

  “Ms. Hambleton is willing to speak with you at five p.m. Berlin time.”

  “Very good.”

  Atomic blasts, killer drones, conniving Iranian politicians. Too much for one man, he figured. He smiled a little. The press will have a field day if they find out how quickly things are piling up. Once he informed the Knesset ministers and opposition party leader Boris Houser of the latest developments, he would downright beg for everything to be kept in secrecy. He knew there would be anger from his ministers since they were part of his administration. He expected that. It was with the opposition party leader Boris Houser that he held out worry. He had barely defeated Houser in the last election and got the feeling the man played politics above even Israeli security. He could never mention it in public for fear of being scolded from every side. He knew it though. This guy was from a newer generation. A man in his early 40s who got out of serving in the Israeli military because of some sort of ailment. Grozner didn’t condemn everyone born during the great technological revolutions of the ‘70s and ‘80s, but, he did find it odd that far too many avoided military service, some even going so far as to engage in Palestinian rights activities. He knew they’d find out the hard way if they didn’t wise up, of just how hungry and close the wolves were, and tonight, God willing, he’d prove it.

  The tears flowed, her weeping almost becoming wailing before Majeed whispered into her ear to calm down, not to make the guards angry. “Come,” he said, holding a hand, her husband holding the other, both guiding her toward her home where a guard stepped in front and waved his finger no.

  “Please. She wishes to change. She has soiled herself,” Majheed said.

  “You must return to the circle. Only to relieve yourself are you allowed to leave. And that is only with a guard.”

  “She may go inside,” a voice called. They all turned and saw Zarin coming out of the woodline.

  She doubled over, tears welling in her eyes. The sound of dripping water caused everyone to look at her feet. His appearance caused her to urinate down her leg again.

  The guard started chuckling as did Zarin when they led her away. Majheed began drawing a bedsheet across the doorway, his eyes squinting, full of contempt, the only way he knew how to relay resistance toward Zarin whose eyes caught the gesture and locked on the old man.

  Majheed worried he would storm through the makeshift covering. He watched it, hearing his daughter throw her garments to the floor.

  “I will find a way and kill him,” he whispered to her as she came to his side. “Before nightfall. If I am to be a martyr, so be it.”

  “Don’t be foolish. We will fight another day. That I can promise you. Besides, we have no weapons.”

  “A man must defend his people. I will not shirk from our responsibility. I will use a rock, or my bare hands if I have to.”

  “And be killed before you can finish the job, as well as will everyone else in the village. Is it worth not seeing your granddaughter live to experience a free Kurdistan?”

  “A hope generations have longed for, but will never happen. We—”

  She grabbed the old man’s arm. He looked at her, wanting her to soothe his anger with some simple words. “I am ready. It is alright. Come.” She drew back the sheet; Zarin was talking on a bulky looking field telephone. His continual nods and quick handoff of the device to one of his men informed them he was agitated.

  “All of you move out into the field. Quickly!” He grabbed Majheed by the arm. “Some of our people are missing. Cyrus’s men still remain. Therefore, we’re going to give them a blood offering.”

  Majheed said nothing. His heart pounded so hard he felt it might leap out of his chest. A cold sensation ricocheted inside him. Fear took hold, his arm becoming limp under Zarin’s grip, becoming numb. “Excellency, please. We know nothing of them. You’ve seen us. We’ve all been here. Watched by your men. None of us know what happened to them. Don’t kill us for the guerillas’ cri
mes.”

  “I’m not going to kill you.” He looked straight ahead. “The state of Iran is. Halt!” he yelled, causing civilian and soldier alike to freeze in their tracks. “Turn around. You see old man, you Kurds are foolish. To think that a man as loyal as I to the Supreme Council and someone who enjoys his work ever entertained letting you go? You are far too trusting.” He shoved Majeed over to the group. “Line up side by side.”

  The group began to step away from each other, everyone looking down. Majheed fell to his knees. “Your honor, kill me, but let the rest live. I beg you.”

  “Shut up.” He unholstered his pistol then someone behind him let out an anguished cry, causing him to swing around.

  Wasir was down on all fours covered in dirt. He collapsed onto his belly as Zarin ran to him. He placed a boot on Wasir’s side and with a hefty push rolled him onto his back.

  Zarin kneeled down, looking at the fresh blood frothing upon the man’s brown crusted lips. He noticed the splotchy red stains on his clothing and immediately knew. “You’re the one they helped. A man who escaped my ambush.”

  Wasir rocked his head slightly, nodding. “I…tell you…Informant…Must let the people live…Please, must do that.”

  “If it is the truth. You have my word.” He felt it better to agree immediately as he could always kill them later and now had ample reason to. Maybe still do it out of spite. For the golden opportunity he had here, he needed to play the merciful adversary. “Give me their name and I will have you evacuated to a hospital.” He motioned to some of the men. Two came running, including one with the radio slung over a shoulder. Zarin snapped his fingers and took it from him. “The name.”

  “Talon. From the evacuated village. Talon is his code name; he’s helping them now.”