by James E Mack
He stopped to adjust his NVGs when a whispered transmission from Pasha came through.
‘There is movement to the right of their location, but I don’t have a clear shot. Moving my position now.’
Sergeii replied with two clicks on his pressel switch to let his sniper know he had received the message. He gave Arkady the hand-signal to hold, and saw his colleague take cover with his rifle pointed towards the Americans’ location. Sergeii narrowed his eyes as he tried in vain to identify any movement through the green glow of his optics. His earpiece buzzed again.
‘Am in position now and acquiring target. Wait… target acquired and taking shot.’
Sergeii stared hard towards the Americans’ location and heard the faint retort from Pasha’s rifle and a second later a brief flash from the area where the Americans were taking cover. He assessed Pasha’s bullet must have travelled through its target and ricocheted off the rocks, causing a spark. He grinned to himself at the thought of the Americans realizing they were being cut down one by one and that there was nothing they could do about it. He congratulated his sniper.
‘Pasha, well done. We are moving in now to close.’
He began to move but had only gone several meters over the jagged rocks when he paused and sent his message again, having heard nothing from his sniper. When the silence came a second time, Sergeii began to feel uneasy. He gave a quick radio check to Arkady to confirm his equipment was working and received a clear reply. He really wanted to move in on the Americans now while they were dealing with the chaos of a further casualty, but his gut told him that something was wrong. Sergeii’s instincts had been proven right on too many occasions for him to ignore them and he spoke into his mic again.
‘Arkady, you wait here and cover me. I am going to check on Pasha as he is not responding to my transmissions.’ Arkady replied instantly and Sergeii made his way back across the ground that they had just covered. When he reached the spot where they had left the sniper, he saw that Pasha wasn’t there but remembered that he had altered his position in order to acquire the American target. Sergeii knew that Pasha wouldn’t have gone too far to achieve this and raised himself up on his knees, scanning the area around him. Within seconds he spotted Pasha lying behind his rifle, focused completely on his targets. Sergeii shook his head slightly in admiration and crawled over to Pasha, softly calling to let him know he was approaching. The sniper maintained his vigil and Sergeii shuffled his body alongside Pasha’s and patted his colleague’s back.
‘Tell me we got another one, Pasha.’
When his statement wasn’t acknowledged, Sergeii repeated it a little louder. He frowned as the silence remained and raised himself on his elbows, leaning in closer to Pasha’s face. Sergeii gasped when he saw the shattered forehead and the concave hollow of the sniper’s skull that had been hidden from his approach. Pasha had been shot in the head as he lay behind his weapon and had never moved since. Sergeii’s rage flooded his senses and he grabbed the big rifle from the sniper’s dead hands, turning the weapon towards the Americans and looking into the thermal scope. He snapped his head back and gave an involuntary cry of disgust as he pulled lumps of flesh and gore from his eye socket, remnants of Pasha’s face that had splattered into the receptacle of the rifle’s optics. He leaned forward to scoop the visceral matter out of the eyepiece when the rifle was snatched from his hands by an unseen force and catapulted into the rocks beyond. Sergeii felt his palm stinging before the realization dawned on him that the weapon had been shot from his hands. His eyes widened and he threw himself to the ground, rolling fast, away from where he had just been kneeling. A loud crack near his head confirmed that the Americans were hunting him, and his adrenaline surged with the familiar excitement of being in close combat. He didn’t even feel the sharp rocks stabbing him as he rolled and tumbled over them back towards Arkady, hearing his colleague calling his name. Sergeii reached Arkady and saw the puzzlement on his face, but he wasted no time, crawling into cover and pointing his weapon towards the Americans’ position. He felt Arkady slither alongside him.
‘Sergeii, what the fuck is going on?’
His breathing was ragged, and he willed himself to slow it down, calming and relaxing his body before replying.
‘The Americans got Pasha. Straight through the head. They must also have a thermal scope.’
There was a brief pause where all Sergeii could hear was his breathing and the gusting of the icy wind.
‘So what do we do now Sergeii?’
Sergeii Antonovich narrowed his eyes and curled his lip as he replied.
‘Change of plan Arkady. We take no prisoners now. We kill them all. Every last one.’
25
ZAGROS MOUNTAINS, IRAN
Karim waited for several minutes before he crawled back from the rocks where he had been observing the shooting on the slope to his front. The deteriorating weather had not allowed him to see clearly enough to identify exactly who was fighting who and his first thought had been that Zana had sent a team of Quds ahead and they’d encountered the Americans. As all he had to go on was muted muzzle flashes in the dark, Karim questioned his initial assessment. The sporadic nature of the shooting was not how the Quds would take on an American force. They would employ their standard flanking maneuver, using a heavy weight of fire to suppress the Americans while a team made their way to close with them. No, this is different.
He made his way back to the boy and sat where he could see the waif’s face clearly. Affan looked up to him, his wide eyes filled with questions. Karim shook his head and leaned in until their heads were touching.
‘I don’t know exactly what is happening, but I think my American friends are meeting some resistance. We need to help them.’ When the orphan made no comment, Karim continued. ‘I need you to stay here again and wait until I come back for you, yes?’
The boy shook his head and Karim gripped his shoulder.
‘Listen; our only way out of these mountains and this country is with my American friends. They don’t make it; we don’t make it. That is the truth.’ Karim handed his pistol over to the boy. ‘If anything happens, use this. Do what you did before; point it at the middle of a man and squeeze the trigger. Move a few meters away, hide and wait. I will find you. Understand?’ He watched as the boy dropped his head and gave a slow nod of resignation. Karim patted his back. ‘Good, good my little Palang. I won’t let you down. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay here, stay hidden and stay warm.’ He rose and turned to leave but looked down as his hand was gripped. He covered the boy’s hand with his own and met the pleading, wide eyes.
‘It’s okay Affan. I will be back, I promise.’ He pulled his hand loose, lowered his NVGs and made his way in a crouch across the open ground, keeping larger rocks between himself and the shooters. Karim wanted to get close enough to identify their numbers and, if possible, who they were, before he engaged. He didn’t think there were many, as there would have been much more shots being returned but he needed to be sure. Karim lowered his body position as he made his way closer to where he had last observed the shots being fired from. Taking care with each foot placement, he stalked over the uneven ground, scanning all directions to avoid being surprised or ambushed. He paused as his foot connected with a hard object that moved and made the sound of metal colliding with rock. Looking down, he saw a large rifle, a sniper’s rifle made even longer by the suppressor fitted to the end of the barrel. As he studied it, he saw the shattered stock near the cocking mechanism and understood why it had been discarded. It was also clear to Karim that this was not a Quds’ weapon. He recognized the make and model and knew for certain that no Iranian unit used such a rifle. But that begged the question; whose was it?
A soft sound caught his attention and he lowered himself onto his stomach, slowly moving his head to scan the area where the sound had emanated. It took him a few seconds but then he saw it; two men moving slowly, like him, among the rocks and snow on their stomachs. Karim could see they were
trained by the way only one man moved while the other covered him. But they weren’t Iranians, he knew that for sure. While the question bothered him, he put it out of his mind. It didn’t really matter who they were, they were trying to kill Vic and his team and Karim had to do whatever he could to make sure that didn’t happen.
Now that he had slowed down from his race across the mountain, Karim could feel the chill on his body as the keen wind drove the snow against him. He kept his focus on the area where he had last seen the two men, the odd fleeting glance of shadows among the snow flurries his only confirmation that the figures were still there. Stalking towards them, he took great care with his foot placement, not wanting to trip or fall in any manner that might alert the men. He settled his breathing as he moved, his training kicking in as the muscle memory of closing with a foe in close quarters took over.
Skirting around a large rock that loomed in front of him, he dropped quickly to the ground as he almost walked straight into the back of the men. At barely two meters in front of him, he could even hear snatches of their whispered conversations, brief bursts of speech that drifted to him on the wind. He strained to hear the words as he covered the men with his carbine but couldn’t identify what they were saying. Risking a brief glance at the ground in front of him, He placed a gloved hand down and, bringing his focus back to the stationary men, crawled forward to within a meter then stopped and brought the rifle up on aim. As he placed first pressure on the trigger, his eyes widened as a fraction of the conversation reached his ears and with it, no more doubt that these were the enemy.
Karim didn’t need to use his optics at this range and looked over the length of the rifle as he pulled the trigger and killed his first Russians.
26
ZAGROS MOUNTAINS, IRAN
Zana saw the small flashes and raised his carbine up, aiming in the direction of the activity before cursing and lowering the weapon. He had no idea who was firing at who and spun on his heel to address the signaler.
‘Who is that? Get Sergeii now and ask him to identify his location.’
He watched as the signaler keyed his mic and spoke in Russian. He repeated the query and receiving no response, asked again. The young Quds operative looked up at Zana and shook his head.
Zana cursed aloud and strode to where his Major was crouched behind the cover of some rocks observing the area where the muted muzzle flashes had come. Dropping beside him, the General leaned in closer.
‘What do you think Major?’
His Major answered without taking his eyes from their target area. ‘One shooter. Suppressor. Looked like two targets up close but I cannot be sure.’
Zana stood and stared hard at the darkness beyond the swirling snow as his mind assimilated the facts. One shooter, taking on two targets. Up Close. Ardavan.
He leaned down and grabbed the Major’s shoulder. ‘Get up. It was Ardavan doing the shooting. Come on man, we have him. We have the snake.’
He turned on his heel and made his way back to the signaler as he heard the Major giving hushed commands to his men, splitting them into sections to flank the vile traitor and finally bring an end to the hunt. He barked at the radio operator. ‘Anything from the Russians?’
The young operative shook his head. ‘Nothing General. I have been trying but nothing is coming back.’
Looking back towards where he believed the traitor Ardavan to be, Zana wondered whether the two targets that the Major had seen shot at close range were the reason for the Russians’ radio silence. He sighed as he came to terms with the fact that his Russian ally was in all probability dead in the snow not twenty meters from where he stood. A sound caught his attention and he turned to see a file of his men make their way up the slope while a second section lined out with spaces between each man and moved directly towards where Ardavan had been. Nodding with determination, Zana opened his stride and caught up with the line, taking a position on the end as they walked forward, weapons ready. After some time, he heard the call in his earpiece from the flanking section above them. They were in position and waiting.
Other than the wind, Zana heard no noise, the discipline and training of his men such that even when closing with the enemy for the kill, no conversation was necessary. As the driving snow stung his face, the General stared hard at the area in front of him, willing the traitor to appear from the white maelstrom. He really wanted Ardavan alive, wounded maybe and suffering great pain, but he couldn’t give that order to his troops. Ardavan was well trained and had significant operational experience, evident in the way he had lured the hunter force into not one but two traps. No, he was not to be underestimated and Zana was unwilling to risk losing Ardavan again by ordering his men to aim to wound and not to kill.
His thoughts were interrupted as the man to his side dropped to the ground and took up a position aiming to his front. Zana mimicked the soldier and pointed his carbine through a gap between two rocks as he waited to find the reason for taking cover. A moment later he heard a quiet whisper in his earpiece from his Major.
Body ahead.
Another quiet command was given, and two men crawled forward from the line, disappearing into the swirling clouds of snow. Several minutes passed before a further message came over the airwaves.
Come to our location.
The soldiers on the line stood up and advanced forward. Zana saw the two men who had gone in advance kneeling and studying a body that was sprawled over a scattering of sharp rocks. As the Major deployed his troops around the area to secure it, Zana approached the body and placed his carbine on the ground. With exaggerated care, he took hold of the upper torso of the corpse and eased the head and shoulders up in small increments, studying the ground underneath. Satisfied that it had not been booby-trapped, he flipped the body over and studied it. The pale face, poor complexion and dark hair gave him some hints that he might be looking at a dead Russian and a thorough study of the man’s clothing, weapons and equipment confirmed it.
Zana shook his head, picked up his carbine and looked for the Major. He saw the officer deep in discussion with the signaler and made his way over. The Major looked up as he saw him approach and pointed down the hill behind them.
‘The mice are picking up a lot of movement down there General. More than four people we think.’
Zana looked in the direction the Major had indicated and frowned as he tried to work out what was going on. They could be Americans, or they could also be Russians as Zana didn’t know how many men Sergeii had brought with him. It could even be Ardavan with his American handlers, escaping the mountains as Zana was stood trying to figure things out. He made up his mind.
‘Major, bring the flanking section down from the high ground. We move towards that group. I suspect it is the Americans, but we will soon see. Come man, no time to lose.’ He noted the brief hesitancy on the Major’s face, but it was fleeting, and the commands were soon relayed across the radio. Despite his confidence that they would catch the traitor, small elements of concern were beginning to creep into Zana’s thoughts. The fact that the traitor had managed to ambush his force twice was unexpected. But now there was also a dead Russian who Zana knew would have been one of Sergeii’s best. Increasing doubt gnawed at the General’s confidence. If Ardavan had managed to link forces with the Americans, the Quds were going to have a serious fight on their hands. With their depleted numbers, Zana knew that they needed the element of surprise on their side with which to balance the odds in their favor.
Some quiet activity to his rear made him turn and he saw the flanking section had joined the main body of troops. The Major took hold of the officer in command of the other section and briefed him quietly. Both men then made their way to Zana and he leaned in as the Major spoke.
‘What’s your plan sir?’
Zana indicated with his head to the slope below them. ‘We make our way down there, slowly and quietly until we see what we’re dealing with and then, well then we’ll just deal with it.’ Allowing no time for que
stions he nodded to the Major. ‘Get the men ready. We move in one minute.’
The Major began speaking quiet commands into his mic and around them, troops moved into formation ready to deploy. After only thirty seconds, the Major turned back to Zana.
‘We are ready General.’
Moving as one, the line of Quds operatives stalked down the slope, each man careful of his foot placement even as they strained their eyes to see what was in front of them. Soft, quiet commands over the radio were the only disturbance to their advance and Zana felt his stomach tighten in anticipation of closing with the enemy. He was aware, as all the men probably were, that the enemy could have the upper hand in this dark snowstorm but equally, Zana and his men could be on top of the Americans before they were even noticed.
The Major gave a glance along the line and could only make out the vague features of the soldier next to him, the remainder of the line lost in the dark and the snow. It mattered little; his men’s training and discipline meant that he didn’t need to see them to know they were doing their jobs. He turned his attention to his front again and tasted the metallic tang of adrenalin as the prospect of close combat approached. He almost yelled in surprise as a figure rose up before him, appearing from the depths of the swirling snow like a djinn. His training and muscle memory kicked in before the shock set in fully and he raised his carbine up on aim.
Major Amadi frowned as his carbine was pushed up higher than he had intended, and his eyes and mouth opened wide as a lance of agony in his back took his breath away. As he dropped to the ground, he could feel himself being supported and struggled to comprehend what was happening even as he coughed hot blood from his mouth onto the snow around him. Hands lowered him to the ground, in an almost tender fashion and he began to choke as he drowned on the blood filling his lungs. His last thought as panic and terror flooded him was that he was going to die alone on this freezing mountain. With a last gasp of breath, the Major’s eyes fluttered closed and his spasming ceased as the snow began to settle on his now peaceful face.