Asset Seven

by James E Mack

  Karim grabbed Affan’s arm and indicated with his head that they should move. The boy needed no further prompting and supported Karim’s weight by ducking under his arm and slinging it over his bony shoulder. They moved as fast as they could over the treacherous ground, falling and recovering, each tumble an agony for Karim to endure. As Affan tried to haul him up after a particularly heavy fall, Karim shook his head.

  ‘No more, little leopard. No more.’

  The boy shook his head, eyes watering and thrust his arms forward to grab at Karim’s jacket but he swatted them away, wincing at the effort.

  ‘Affan, no. I can’t. I am dying and won’t make it any further.’ He sucked in some cold air and grimaced at the fire in his chest. His breathing became heavier and his head began to drop. Breathing in through his nose, Karim lifted his head back up and made eye contact with the boy who had dropped to his knees and was openly weeping, shaking his head in denial. Karim felt tears well up in his own eyes and a sadness consume him at the thought of leaving the boy alone. Fighting the greyness at the edges of his vision he leaned forward until their foreheads were touching.

  ‘Affan, you can live. You will live and that is an order. Otherwise everything we have done is for nothing. But you must help me now, quick and without questions. Take my pack off and follow everything I tell you to do. NOW boy! You need to hurry.’

  The shock of the raised voice spurred Affan to move and he helped Karim remove the pack, cringing at the man’s groans of agony. Karim gave the boy specific directions and Affan removed the claymore mines from within the pack and helped Karim unspool the command wires. Karim showed the boy how to unfold the legs and position the devices securely among the rocks. He ensured Affan placed the blasting caps in the detonator wells before ordering him to conduct a final check of the mines. Karim took the ends of the wire that the boy passed him and inserted these into the firing mechanisms, leaving them ready but with the safety in the ‘on’ position. He coughed again, his body racked with spasms and blood pooled in his mouth before trickling out and running down his face. His head drooped but he hadn’t finished with the boy. Drawing on his final reserves, he lifted his head and pulled Affan closer to him. When he had the boy’s ear at his mouth, he spoke without pause, determined to get the information out before their hunters stumbled upon them. When he’d finished, he gave the boy a small sack, dropping items that Affan would need before loading the pistol with a fresh magazine, cocking it and depositing it on top. He handed the sack to Affan and felt his throat constrict as he watched the tears streaming down the boy’s face. Karim pulled the boy’s head to his shoulder and leaned his face into the boy’s hair as his own tears ran down his cheeks. A sound to his left broke his sorrow and he thrust the boy away from him before grabbing the claymore firing mechanisms.

  ‘Go little leopard. Go and live. Make all of this worth something. Be the man that would make me proud to have known you. Go boy. GO!’

  Affan had seen something move in the darkness and, taking a last look at the only man who had ever shown him kindness, screamed his grief into the wind, picked up the small sack and ran into the darkness. Karim watched him go and felt his body slump as his responsibilities were now over. He’d given the boy a fighting chance and that was all that he could do. His vision blurred as he reached for the firing mechanisms and he had to concentrate hard to get them in his hands without dropping them. His eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on the safety switches, but he managed to move them to the ‘off’ position just as several men loomed out of the darkness. They didn’t see him immediately and it was only when the lead man let out a yell of surprise that the others noticed Karim slumped against the rocks. When he didn’t move or react, they moved closer, carbines on aim as they shuffled forward. Karim felt the greyness colonize his vision and knew he was close. Without moving any other part of his body, he depressed the handles of the firing mechanisms firmly, sending the electrical charge along the wires to the lethal devices. The explosions of light and sound assailed Karim and he fell sideways onto the rocks but felt no pain. As he lost consciousness, the last sounds he heard were the muted screams of his hunters and as his breathing stilled, his last thought was that the little leopard still had a chance.

  33

  ZAGROS MOUNTAINS, IRAN

  Zana clambered to his feet and fired a burst from his carbine into the darkness where the explosions had come from. Without waiting for his men to recover, he screamed, eyes ablaze with fury and strode forward firing short bursts as he went. As a swirl of snow cleared, he saw the body collapsed at the base of a boulder pile and he turned his weapon and emptied the remainder of his magazine into the traitor Ardavan. He released the empty magazine while pulling a full one from a pouch, placed the new mag on the weapon and released the working parts forward before firing a further three rounds into Ardavan’s chest. He stopped, lowered the weapon slightly and scanned the area before focusing his attention back to the body of the traitor.

  Zana walked slowly forwards, weapon up and alert for any reaction but he saw immediately that Ardavan was dead, the position of the body and the darker shade around the chest of the jacket telling Zana as much. As he studied his former subordinate, the General felt a mix of emotions: Rage with Ardavan for his duplicity and treachery, relief that he had finally brought the traitor to justice and could now contact Headquarters, and… something he couldn’t quite define. A lack of satisfaction. A desire not sated. He brushed it off and turned his head as one of his men stumbled towards him. He saw it was the signaler and the man’s face was covered in blood. He saw Zana looking at him and raised a gloved hand to his head.

  ‘My head Sir. Something from the explosion hit me.’

  Zana nodded. ‘Scalp always bleeds a lot. Looks worse than it is. You’ll live. Now, help me search this viper and see what he’s carrying.’

  The signaler stared back the General for a moment, angered but not completely surprised by the officer’s utter lack of empathy. He shook his head then moved towards the body as the General began opening the pockets on the dead man’s jacket.

  Zana cursed Ardavan’s name as he rifled through the clothing, scrunching the pockets, collar and seams for any concealed items that the traitor may have secreted. But beyond standard pieces of kit he’d expected to find, there was nothing. Frowning, he turned his attention to the tactical-vest and backpack, rooting through every pouch and cavity but again, finding nothing out of the ordinary. He stood as several more of his men staggered into the area, nursing wounds and injuries of various severity. He failed to notice the fear and dejection that the remnants of his force emitted from their wan faces, his sole focus now on scouring the area around Ardavan’s body. It took him several minutes before his eyes picked out an anomaly among the drifts of snow and he dropped to one knee to study it.

  A footprint. Recent and not Ardavan’s. This was smaller and the tread of the shoe different from the traitor’s field boots. Zana could now see a very faint trail leading from this print and knew that Ardavan’s companion was still alive and making good their escape. He stood and barked at the huddled survivors.

  ‘Let’s move. The traitor’s companion is running. Come now, let’s get this bastard and finish this thing once and for all.’ He turned on his heel and strode out but stopped when he heard no sounds. Looking back over his shoulder he saw that none of the men had moved and were stood still, eyes lowered. His anger erupted and he spun to face them.

  ‘I said MOVE! Get those weapons up and follow me. This bastard is getting away and I don’t have time for your shit.’ His anger turned to genuine surprise when again, none of his charges responded to his order. Zana’s lip curled and he turned his carbine upon the gaggle of cowards.

  ‘You will all lift up your weapons, get into file and follow me now or by Allah’s will, I will cut you down where you stand.’

  After a moment, the men glanced at each other and Zana relaxed as he saw the weapons being brought into the shoulders and no
longer held like women’s handbags. His satisfaction was short-lived as he saw that each man’s rifle was pointed at him. His eyes widened in disbelief. He had never, in all his years as a leader of men, witnessed anything so outrageous. He barked again.

  ‘Point those fucking guns away from me and fall in line. NOW.’

  A young Captain spoke up, his voice wavering as it competed with the gusting wind and snow. ‘Enough General. It is over. Many of us are dead, the rest are wounded, and you have your dead traitor. So, it is enough. If you want anything else, then do it yourself. We are calling Headquarters for medical recovery.’

  Zana growled and took a step towards them but stopped in shock as the Captain fired his weapon, the bullet passing close enough to Zana that he heard the buzzing as it zipped past his ear.

  ‘That’s far enough General. One more step and we will kill you. Leave your corpse on this forsaken mountain for tomorrow’s crows. You have betrayed your Unit and your Headquarters with this personal obsession, and we will tolerate no more.’

  Zana’s finger curled around the trigger as rage clouded his mind, vengeance for this final betrayal the driving thought foremost in his mind. He didn’t care about dying, had never been frightened by the prospect, but he’d be damned if he was going to be killed by a mutinous mob of cowards. As his senses returned, he looked back in the direction the footprints led and made up his mind. Lowering his weapon, he addressed the forlorn group.

  ‘As you wish. I will hunt and kill the traitor myself. But I will return, and you will all be punished harshly for this. Very harshly. You have brought great shame to your country and your families this day and you will live to regret it. But you have all made your decision as I have made mine. Stay warm you nest of vipers and I will see you all again soon.’ With that, Zana turned and strode into the gloom, head low, straining to follow the tracks that grew fainter with every flurry of snow that filled the indentations. He cast aside the behavior of his mutinous troops and applied his entire focus to the task of tracking Ardavan’s accomplice. The mutineers could wait.

  He would deal with them on his return.

  34

  ZAGROS MOUNTAINS, IRAN

  Ned Kelly lowered the thermal scope and slid down from the small rocky embankment until he was lying beside Vic.

  ‘If I had to guess I’d say that was your boy fighting his way out. I picked up around five signatures closing in on something before the explosions then lost them as they went into dead ground. Some more shooting, then quiet for a while then a single shot. Nothing since then. But they are only fifty meters away Vic, really close man.’

  Vic nodded at the Delta soldier’s summary.

  ‘I don’t know what the hell to think Ned. It could have been Seven, but I haven’t been able to raise him since his last contact, so we don’t have any way of knowing. Our pressing problem is the inbound birds. We need to make the LZ as safe as we can and that means we have to clear these assholes out of here.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. Okay, let’s stop wasting time. I’ll take one other and go forward for a sneak and peek. You stay here with the rest and monitor the birds’ ingress. I’ll update with what we find. Good?’

  Vic nodded again and made his way up to the crest of the small rise, scanning the area through his NVGs while he listened to Ned briefing the team over the comms. Ned called Lopez forward and then gave the call to say they were moving out. Other than the wind around him, everything was quiet as Vic continued his vigil, almost praying that the enemy would walk into his sights and make his job easier. Kill them all before the choppers arrived. Experience told him that this was very unlikely, that they’d be fighting a tough battle right up to their extraction but still, a man could hope. His earpiece crackled softly as a transmission from Dwight came through: Birds inbound ten minutes. Ten minutes. Vic felt a gnawing apprehension in his stomach at the thought of the imminent arrival of the helicopters into a hot Landing Zone. Had he made the right call? Was it really worth the risk of losing two aircraft loaded with the highest specification of technology and equipment?

  Vic switched his focus back to scanning the dark terrain before him. He could second-guess himself all night, but the truth of the matter was that they were combat ineffective, and the mission now had to be a recovery of the team and their dead colleagues. He thought about Seven and wondered if there was the slightest possibility that he was still alive. Alive and being dragged back to the stinking cells of Evin Prison for the first of a stream of endless tortures and interrogations. Vic hoped Seven had died, quick and clean and before any of the Quds had got to him. A far more preferrable end for a brave man who’d sacrificed everything to try and get his information to Vic.

  Vic still had no idea what the information was: CONUS target but no what, where and when with which to initiate any action against. He could only hope that other assets, both technical and human, would throw something up to give the Agency a fighting chance. His thoughts drifted again to the cluster of body-bags in the center of the small defensive position they were holding. Good, brave men who’d given the ultimate sacrifice on a mission that would never be publicly acknowledged. And then there was Seven; either dead with the snow and rocks as his eternal companions or severely wounded and on his way back to Tehran for interrogation. This happened from time to time with assets; they lived dangerous lives, a precarious balance between collecting actionable intelligence and not revealing their true role. Risks were taken and sometimes these risks were too much and the asset was caught. Vic didn’t take it to heart; he’d liked Seven, admired the man even but at the end of the day he was an intelligence asset, a means to an end. Sure, Vic felt some sadness, but he’d lost assets before. Sometimes the agent just stopped showing up and answering communications and was never seen or heard from again. Other times, their exposure and punishments were made very public in order to deter others who may have been approached by the Agency or were thinking about approaching them. It was the nature of the work. You could like and respect your agents but as an intelligence officer, you never became too close to them.

  Vic thought about the Iranians currently trying to kill them and was still puzzled as to why no reinforcements had come to flood the mountain and trap the American team. He wondered if weather was a factor and that the Quds had decided to send a small elite cadre of individuals to hunt down the Americans. If that had been the plan, it certainly wasn’t going well for them. He hoped Ned and Lopez would locate the Iranians so that they could try and deal with them before the arrival of the birds.

  Ned slithered over the ice-covered rocks and raised his head in increments as the voices to his front carried to him on the breeze. Through his NVGs he could see a huddle of around five individuals, rifles slung over shoulders as they sat hunched close together for warmth. Creeping closer, he saw now that they were Iranians dressed in cold-weather clothing and well-equipped which suggested that they were Quds. He also noted that many of them were wounded, dressings and bandages now visible from his close range. He felt Lopez slide into position beside him and he dropped his head onto his arm and whispered to his fellow soldier.

  ‘Five or six. No sentry. Most wounded. But well equipped and at least one big radio.’

  He watched Lopez nod slowly before replying.

  ‘You go left into cover, I’ll take ‘em straight on and you mop up the runners. Good?’

  Ned patted Lopez on the arm in affirmation and crawled on his stomach until he reached a small group of boulders. Using these as cover he rose to his knees and looked over at the Iranians, now only barely visible. Slinging his carbine back to the front of his body, he cupped his mic and spoke softly into it.

  ‘In position.’

  He received two clicks in reply from Lopez and a moment later he watched as the tall Texan strode into the clearing and opened fire. Much of the sound was muted from the suppressor but Ned could hear the rifle as Lopez fired small bursts of automatic that shredded into the sitting Iranians. Screams of shock and pain
soon drowned out any other sounds and as Ned watched, several of the Quds made it to their feet and were scrambling over rocks in an attempt to escape the killing zone. Two of them tried to return fire but Lopez had them before they could take proper aim and the men dropped to the frozen ground, weapons unfired. The soldier with the radio on his back made it over a boulder pile and was running towards Ned, oblivious to the Delta man’s presence. Ned lifted his carbine up as the young soldier began screaming something unintelligible into the night. Taking aim at the head, Ned fired a quick burst and saw the signaler catapult over a knee-high rock where his body came to rest in a crucifix-like position. Lopez was beside Ned a fraction of a second later looking into the darkness beyond. Ned followed his gaze.

  ‘You any idea what he was yelling before we took him out?’

  Lopez nodded. ‘Took the Farsi course last year. He was yelling General, General. What the fuck you think that means?’

  Ned pondered the question before answering. ‘Think that means we might have us an Iranian General out here with us. Real VIP for a shindig like this. Come on, let’s take a look and see if we can’t introduce ourselves to our special guest.’ He moved forward, carbine in the shoulder, knees bent and focused on the land in front of him through the green hue of his NVGs. The last thing they needed was to stumble into a position of Iranians and lose the initial firefight. He thought back to all the information they’d picked up through the night and was sure that even if there was a General out here somewhere, he couldn’t have many more men with him. According to Ned’s rough calculations, and having heard no indication of reinforcements, there could only be a couple of Quds operatives left out here, four at the most. But he didn’t take this as granted; there could be more of them. He was also cognizant of the time going by and wanted to be done with this before the birds arrived.