by R G Ainslee
"Where?"
"My leg. Metal from the door. A piece is in my leg." The passenger side door had a ragged gash in the metalwork. The bullet had penetrated at an angle, producing a chunk of shrapnel.
"I'll pull over."
"No. Keep going, we must not stop."
"Yeah, they're probably on our tail right now."
"Not so. I shot the front of the car, they will overheat if it even starts."
"Good thinking. Did you get any of them?"
"The driver, the one with the rifle, he is down."
"We need to look at that leg."
She gritted her teeth, jerked the piece of metal out of her thigh with a sharp yelp of pain, and passed out. He reached out and steadied her, then pulled her back against his shoulder. A glance at the rearview mirror showed the truck coming around the last bend.
A crimson blot oozed from her jeans, he needed to stop and stem the bleeding. The road curved left, a quick look showed no one behind the truck. Ahead, about a kilometer away, the road divided. She had marked the turn on her map, the road snaked up a steep hill on its way south to the border. He turned, crossed a dry streambed, and started up the grade. The truck continued south on the main road. He stopped at the top of the ridge and looked back. No other traffic and no sign of the black car.
Amadeo rushed around and opened the passenger door. She was awake.
"Let me get something to stop the bleeding."
She gasped and sat up straight. "A medical kit is under the seat."
"Take off those pants, I need to dress the wound."
Her face contorted. "Are you a doctor?"
"As close as you're going to get around here." He took the kit from her. "I'm a trained combat medic."
She let out a woeful groan as he helped her pull the bloodied pants off. Her head laid back against the seat as she tried to catch her breath.
"Seen worse." He held up the canteen. "This may sting a bit,"
She shrieked when he poured water over the deep cut. He took a dressing and pressed, she moaned and gripped the edge of the seat.
A few minutes later, he pulled the dressing and inspected the wound. A trickle of blood seeped from the purple gash. "I don't have anything in the bag to stitch-up the cut, I'll have to tape it." He held up a tube of antibiotic cream. "Hold on while I smear this stuff on your leg, you don't want an infection ruining your day."
She forced a smile. "No, we can't have that."
She watched his eyes as he dabbed the cream with a swab. "You have a gentle touch."
"Yeah, all the ladies say that."
She placed her hand on his and squeezed. "Thank you."
"I'll wrap this, and we'll be on our way. You gonna be okay to travel?"
She glanced around at the foreboding terrain. "Do we have a choice?"
Ten minutes later they were back on the road. She rode with a blanket covering her legs.
Thursday, 10 November 1979: Tabriz, Iran
Naheed strutted up to the car parked at the Tabriz bus terminal. They had been in town for an hour and had split up to look around for any signs of Felix Fernandez. His two comrades stood forlorn beside the car.
"Do you have any good news," said Naheed. His excursion through the market had proved fruitless.
The first man shook his head. The second man, a university student with thick glasses and a woeful attempt at a beard, said, "People at the bus terminal are talking about a dead foreigner found south of the city."
Naheed's demeanor changed, "Yes, go on. What did they say?"
"The man was shot three times and he was found with a pistol at his side. They say he was a foreign spy."
"Did he have a name?"
"I do not know, but he was a foreigner."
Naheed nodded, assessing the possibilities. "Very well, we return to Tehran."
"But we just arrived."
"We have accomplished the assignment. The spy is dead. We will report our glorious success to our Russian comrade."
"But we did not kill him."
"Who is to say? He is dead, the police will never find out who shot him. We might as well take the credit."
Thursday, 10 November 1979: North of Mamakan, Iran
"We will now be in a valley of farms, you must drive carefully, in the villages," said Ronni.
"How you doing?"
"Better, the pain is less after the pills." She looked under the blanket. "I must change my clothes. We may have to stop."
"Use the blanket as a skirt. It wouldn't be out of place around here. You expecting more trouble?"
"No, from here to the border is less dangerous. But, a Komiteh road block is always a possibility. I will change."
He turned off onto the gravel. It looked like the last open stretch for a while. "I'll get your bag."
She rummaged through her large shoulder bag and pulled out a black cloak. "The chador will cover my legs and the weapon."
"Yeah, we can't have the Komiteh boys ogling your legs, can we?"
"Like you did when you were fixing my wound."
"I'm a guy, that's what I do. Besides, you have pretty good legs for a…" he let the words trail off.
"A woman of my age."
"Precisely."
"Thank you." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Have you thought anymore about Beirut?"
"We gotta get out of Iran first. Let's concentrate on that."
He had thought about Beirut, but now he had to put it out of his mind. Danger lay ahead.
Thursday PM, 10 November 1979: Esendere Crossing, Turkey
John dozed off and Jack was sipping on a beer in the front seat of the car, the morning had dragged on without mercy. A handful of vehicles crossed from Turkey, none had come from Iran.
A tan Toyota Land Cruiser drove past and stopped at the Turkish guard post. Four men were inside.
Jack elbowed John in the ribs. "Take a look at that."
John stirred awake and focused his eyes. "Look at what … that Land Cruiser?"
"Yeah."
The passenger door opened, and a man stepped out. He stretched and looked with interest towards the Iranian border post.
"I'll be an SOB," said John. "What in blazes is he doing here?"
"You recognize him then?"
"I'd recognize that bastard in hell."
Carl Walker ambled over to the pole blocking the road, lit up a cigarette, and motioned for the driver to follow. They went inside the building. The other two men got out of the Toyota and proceeded to look around.
"Let's move down the road a bit and park under those trees by the streambed," said John. "Don't want to risk him recognizing me."
John started the car, put it in gear, and eased out of the parking spot next to a large truck. He slowly drove back down the road away from the border post.
"What ya got planned?" said Jack, knowing John was already one step ahead.
"You think he knows you?"
"He didn't spot me in Tehran, but I don't know. He could remember me from Thailand."
"Better not take any chances. We'll take our position here, got a straight shot view of the post with the binoculars."
"You want me to slip up into the canyon above them?"
John surveyed the terrain. "Not yet. For right now, we'll sit tight and see what happens."
"I got a bad feeling this may have something to do with Amadeo."
"Can't see a connection, but you never know. I hope we don't have to wait too long, they might get curious and snoop around."
Jack pulled the Tokarev TT-33 out of the glove compartment. "I wish your buddy Kamal had come through with some extra magazines. Eight shots apiece is going to cut it close if we get into trouble."
"That's why we shoot first. Don't let them bastards get off a shot."
Thursday PM, 10 November 1979: Police Headquarters. Tehran
Captain Rezaei spent the rest of the morning re-reading the reports. It did not make sense, there was something else at play. The Russian
s, a Spanish reporter, and a group of foreign hippies. What was the connection? He came to a decision and set the papers aside, he would travel to Tabriz and take charge of the investigation. But first he needed the Colonel's permission.
The first sign of trouble was a cluster of black uniformed revolutionary guards in the hall outside the colonel's office. The door was open, the colonel stood behind his desk listening to a ranting from a black robed mullah.
"What do you want?" demanded one of the guards.
"I must see the colonel."
The man yelled into the office. "This one wants to see the traitor."
The mullah spun around and shouted, "Take him too. By the will of the Prophet, we will cleanse this place of traitors to the revolution."
Two men grabbed Rezaei by the arms. He knew better than to resist. He feared this day would come. The revolution was about to consume one of its own. He would not be going to Tabriz. His next stop would be Evin Prison.
Lieutenant Abbasi watched in horror as two black-coated men frog-marched Rezaei down the hall past his office. He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. Would he be next?
26 ~ The Border
Thursday PM, 10 November 1979: Sero, Iran
Amadeo slowed and turned off the road.
"Why are you stopping?" asked Ronni.
"We must be getting close to the border crossing. Think it's time to stash the weapons."
She spent the past two hours dozing off and on, the pain-killers and antibiotics had taken their toll. She looked up the road. "Yes … the border post is near … a kilometer or two."
Amadeo pulled off the road behind a large boulder. He collected the Škorpion and Beretta and inserted them in the hidden compartment. The three film canisters were placed beside the electronic board. No use taking any chances since he didn't have a camera.
Minutes later, he slowed as they approached the border station. It was manned by men wearing black coats with green arm-bands.
Ronni gasped. "They replaced the guards. Those men are Komiteh."
A pair of men armed with AK-47 rifles waved for them to halt. Amadeo pulled to a halt in front of a heavy chain blocking the way.
The taller thin man with a heavy beard circled the Gaz and stopped next to the driver's door. He asked for passports in Farsi. Amadeo pretended not to understand. The man repeated the demand in broken English. He handed the documents over.
The man examined the documents. "Where you go?"
"We're on our way to Van."
"Is long drive."
Not sure if it was a statement or question, Amadeo said, "Yes, we are on a holiday."
He bent down and looked at Ronni. She sat with her head down, avoiding the man's eyes. "Is good your woman has the head cover to show respect for laws of the Prophet."
Amadeo replied with a stern countenance, his voice resolute. "Yes, that is something evert man should demand. They must be ruled with a firm hand."
"Yes." The man glanced once again at the documents. "You wait. I take passport to commander." He walked in front of the vehicle and entered the concrete block building.
"A firm hand indeed," said Ronni as the man passed out of earshot.
"It worked didn't it." Amadeo glanced around. "At least they don't have any phone lines. There's no wires leading away from the post. No electricity either."
A short swarthy man emerged from the building with the guards in tow.
"Looks like trouble," whispered Ronni.
He walked over and spoke to Amadeo, ignoring Ronni, "You come from Tehran?"
"Yes, and Tabriz."
"The den of spies. Are the American Satan still captive?"
"Yes, the last word is the students are giving justice to the imperialists."
He looked at the passports again. "You are from this Espana?"
"Yes, I am an anti-imperialist journalist."
"You tell truth about Islamic revolution?"
"You can count on that, nothing but the truth."
He nodded and looked at Ronni. "Is Italiya?"
"Yes, my woman is from Italy."
He smiled and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. "Is good?"
The man's gesture suggested they were sleeping together. Amadeo responded with a leering smile.
The man handed the passports back and yelled a command. A guard unlocked the chain and they drove through into no-mans-land.
"You're good," said Ronni with a hint of sarcasm. "Is it training, or does it come naturally?"
"What?"
"The chauvinist macho man act."
"I could ask the same of you."
"I do not understand."
"Is it training, or does it come naturally?"
She stifled a laugh. "If we make it out of here, maybe you'll have a chance to find out."
"Okay, turn it on again, the Turk's got us in their sights."
A hundred meters across the border, Jack peered through the binoculars. A vehicle was leaving the Iranian post.
John asked, "What you see?"
"One of those Russian Gaz-mobiles."
"Not military, is it?"
"No markings. Must be civilian. Remember, there were a lot of them running around Iran. Their army has a lot of Soviet made gear. Now, he's stopping at the Turkish gate." Jack put the glasses on the dash. "Can''t make out any faces from this distance with these cheapo-binos."
John picked up the glasses. "Walker and his bunch are still in their cars. Haven't moved in the last hour." He re-focused on the Gaz-69. "Looks like a couple of people, a man and a woman."
The Turkish border guards insisted on searching their bags. Drug smuggling from Afghanistan was a problem, especially at little used border posts. Amadeo stood behind the vehicle as they rummaged through the two small bags. They ignored Ronni sitting in front seat.
"Is this all you have?" asked the young lieutenant.
"Yes, we're just on a short trip to Van. My woman is sick and needs a doctor. It is not good in Iran for someone who is ill."
He looked at Ronni and said, "She have disease?"
"No, a woman's problem. Medicine in Turkey is more advanced than Iran." At that moment, he glanced over the top of the car and saw a man step out of a Toyota Landcruiser. Carl Walker leaned against the door and light a cigarette. Amadeo turned away.
The lieutenant handed the passports back. "You may go." He looked at Ronni again. "The roads are bad, drive slow."
"Thanks." Amadeo slipped into the driver's seat and started the motor.
"Now it is women's problems." She huffed. "What will you think of next."
"Our next problem is right over there. That man smoking a cig is your boy Carlos, also known as Carl Walker. Keep your head down, I'm gonna try to sneak past 'em."
He put the car in gear and eased forward. He turned his head away from Walker and glided past. "Did he see us?"
"He looked, but I can't tell if—"
Amadeo watched as Walker threw the cigarette to the ground and rushed to the driver's side. "He's spotted us." He hit the gas and surged ahead at a moderate speed. The military vehicle was no speed demon.
"Look ahead, there are more of them," yelled Ronni. She had spied the light blue Anadol sedan.
Amadeo grinned. "Yeah, but they're on our side."
"It's him," said Jack.
"Walker's seen him too," said John as he turned the ignition key.
Jack instinctively checked the chamber on his Tokarev, it was loaded.
Amadeo waved and pointed ahead as he sped past the Anadol sedan. The Landcruiser was fifty meters behind.
"Hold on," said John as he popped the clutch and spun out onto the road in front of the Toyota. Walker braked hard and jerked his wheels to the left. The vehicle veered off the road, down a shallow embankment, and onto the rocky streambed.
John accelerated down the gravel road, following the plume of dust put up by the Gas-69.
"Who is that?" shouted Ronni.
"My teammates. Looks l
ike they got my message." The road curved left and he looked back down the road. "They're right behind us, don't see the cruiser, think he went off the road back there. I' gonna pull over and you get the guns while I clue them in."
He stopped two hundred meters down the road, next to a pile of boulders. John stopped beside him. Ronni limped out to open the compartment.
"Who's the lady friend?" said Jack.
"Think she's Mossad. You see Walker back there?"
"Yeah, John ran his sorry butt off the road. What's with the dame?"
Ronni came up behind Jack with the Škorpion in hand. "This dame is ready for action. Are you?"
Jack looked down at the machine pistol and said to Amadeo, "You really know how to pick 'em, don't you?"
John shouted over the top of the car, "They'll be here in a minute. Do we run or make a stand?"
"There's four of them and we only got sixteen rounds between us." He said to Ronni, "Extra mags?" She held up two.
John said, "Ruiz, Richards, you take the Gaz and the weapons." He waved at Ronni, "You come with me." He handed his Tokarev to Amadeo.
Jack said to Ronni, "Give me the gun, I'll ride in back and make it interesting for them."
Inside the sedan, John said, "We'll have to out run 'em, 'cause we don't have any weapons. So, hold on tight."
Ronni flashed the Beretta and said with determination, "Mister, you just drive, I'll take care of you."
John looked down the barrel of the twenty-two. "I hope they don't get that close."
"I hope they do." Her eyes were cold and focused. "I have unfinished business."
John checked the rearview and took-off down the road, Amadeo did the same.
"Mossad. You gotta be kidding. How did you hook up with her?" said Jack from the rear of the Gaz jeep. He was keeping a lookout for Walker.
"She's Italian, I met her at the train station and she let me stay with her in Tabriz."
"Thought you said she's Mossad."
"I think she is."
"So, you shacked up with her for how long?"
"Just overnight?"
"One-night stand."
"Something like that."
"Here they come." A plume of dust appeared about a kilometer behind. "Hope John can keep his eyes on the road."
"So, you're Mossad?" said John.
"I didn't say that."
"Who do you work for then?"