Asset Seven

by James E Mack

  It was Lopez who spotted the faint indentations in the snow and identified them as recent tracks. Ned agreed and the pair followed the trail, Lopez studying the footprints and leading the way with Ned covering his colleague and scanning the area around them. Lopez began moving faster and Ned knew that these tracks must be fresh ones, easier to see and follow. They’d covered a fair distance in a short time and Ned was going to suggest changing roles with Lopez when the Texan dropped to the ground and gave the hand signal for enemy ahead. Ned lowered himself to the ground and lay next to Lopez, weapon aimed in front as he saw movement ahead. While he watched, the movement took the form of a man, arms moving up and down. Ned was just about to squeeze the trigger when another person materialized out of the snowy gloom and appeared to be fighting with the first man. Ned chewed on his lip as he attempted to interpret the scenario before him.

  What the fuck is going on now?

  35

  ZAGROS MOUNTAINS, IRAN

  Zana stared in disbelief at the disheveled child before him. This was the snake Ardavan’s companion? This… child? The General took several seconds to get over his surprise but remembered that child or not, he was probably carrying whatever Ardavan had given him to take to his American masters. Zana still couldn’t quite accept that this waif was Ardavan’s travelling companion. Would have thought him a little young to be carrying out acts of treason against the regime. But traitors came in all shapes and sizes and he really shouldn’t have been so surprised that Ardavan’s accomplice was a child. The boy was scrambling on the ground where he’d fallen after trying to outrun Zana. He was having difficulty getting to his feet and Zana was about to stride over and haul him up when the boy managed to stand and face him.

  Zana assessed that he couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen, his scrawny frame, hollow cheeks and sunken eyes telling the story of an impoverished background. He was dressed in a man’s jacket, probably Ardavan’s, but of interest to Zana was the sack that the boy held tight in his hands, knuckles white as he grasped the bag as though his life depended on it. Which Zana acknowledged that it just might. But he didn’t have time for any more assessments. He slung his carbine around so that it dangled from the sling and rested against his side. He pointed at the sack.

  ‘Give me that now and you may live.’

  The boy remained motionless, nothing to indicate he’d even heard the directive. Zana growled and raised his voice.

  ‘I said, give me that bag and I might let you live. NOW!’

  This time the boy started at the shout and shivered but still did not comply. Zana took two quick strides and backhanded the boy in the face, grabbing the bag with his other hand as the waif fell to the ground. Zana opened the back and felt inside, pulling items out and examining them before discarding them on the snowy ground. Food, a water bottle, gloves, bandages. The General tipped the sack up but nothing else fell out of it. He dropped the bag and turned his attention back to the boy, grabbing a handful of his jacket and hauling him up until his face was mere inches from Zana’s own.

  ‘Where is it?’

  The boy said nothing. With a speed that belied a man of his years, Zana’s head was a blur as he thrust his forehead into the boy’s face, letting him drop as the child recoiled from the shock of the head butt and collapsed in a heap. Zana leaned over the boy, grabbed his hair and yanked backwards until he was looking into the blood-covered face.

  ‘I will ask you one more time: Where is it?’

  The boy coughed and blood poured freely from his crushed nose. He tried to say something, but Zana couldn’t hear him.

  ‘What? Speak up, I can’t hear you boy.’

  He leaned in, tilting his head to one side to get his ear closer to the boy’s mouth. Instantly he was in agony as his ear erupted in utter pain and he screamed, thrusting the boy away and with him, the better part of Zana’s right ear in his mouth.

  The General bellowed and brought a hand to his ear, lips curled back in disgust and disbelief as he felt the sticky mess and the space where his upper right ear should have been. His crazed eyes turned to the boy who was spitting the bloody detritus out of his mouth as he scrabbled backwards over the rocks. Zana was on him in an instant, pummeling the boy’s face and head as he screamed his rage, arms pumping up and down as he rained his blows on the child. The boy was doing his best to cover his head, but Zana’s assault was relentless, and he completely overpowered the waif. After some time, he paused, lowering his fists and breathing heavily as he watched the boy’s head flop to one side. His rage still unsated, Zana took a step back and was about to kick the boy into life when another thought came to him. He’d missed the opportunity with Ardavan, but he wouldn’t miss this one.

  The knife.

  Even if the boy was close to losing consciousness, the pain of the knife would bring him back. Zana knew this from experience, had conducted the same technique on several unfortunate individuals over the years. But this was different. This was going to be enjoyable. He would take his time, draw the torture out. Get what he needed but he wasn’t going to cut it short. No. If Ardavan couldn’t pay for his crimes then his young accomplice would settle the account. Was only fair. A faint smile reached the corners of his mouth and he wiped the blood that started to run between his lips from his wounded ear. He spun the knife in his hand, grasped the handle and looked up to show the boy what was coming.

  Zana’s mouth dropped open as he took in the sight of the pistol barrel aimed between his eyes, the gun impossibly large in the child’s hand. Before he could think another thought, the boy pulled the trigger.

  Affan waited a moment before walking over to the man’s body and looking down at it. The man was lying on his back and his eyes were open, blood running from the hole in his forehead and pooling in the right socket. Affan was sure he was dead but had never killed a man before so he gripped the pistol with both hands, aimed as best he could through his swollen eye and pulled the trigger again. His ears were still ringing from the first shot but this one was also very loud. When he closed his eyes the imprint of the flash remained. He patted his chest and squeezed at the pocket, ensuring the small package that Karim had given him was still there.

  When the man had caught up with him, Affan knew he couldn’t outrun him so had feigned a fall in order to get the package and the pistol out of the sack and conceal the items on his person. And it had worked. He had survived. Broken nose, broken teeth and his head felt strangely light, but he had survived. His eyes watered as the shock of the situation kicked in and how close he’d come to being killed and failing Karim. But he hadn’t failed and thought Karim might even be proud of him. He was about to pick up the items on the ground when a flurry of movement erupted from the snow and he brought the pistol up, aiming it at the man who was pointing a rifle at him.

  Ned paused for a beat as he realized he was looking at a kid. But this thought was swiftly followed by the realization that the kid was pointing a big pistol at him. With a fraction of a second with which to assess the situation, Ned acted on instinct. He knew Lopez was covering him from behind, so Ned lowered his carbine, allowing it to hang from the sling. He opened his arms out wide to show his benign intentions.

  ‘Whoa kid, whoa. Hey there, why don’t we put the gun down huh? I’m not going to hurt you, you understand?’ The gun was unsteady and wavering, but Ned could see this was due to its weight and the kid’s terror. ‘Come on buddy, nobody needs to get hurt here, just lower the gun.’ With still no response, he wondered if he should try to get Lopez to talk to the kid, but he could see that it would only take the slightest thing to set the kid off. Ned patted his chest with his hand and smiled as wide as he could manage.

  ‘Friend. Me, friend. Amigo, compadre, good guy.’ The boy was struggling to keep his hands from shaking and Ned could imagine getting shot by accident if this went on much longer. He shook his head in frustration as he tried to find a way to resolve the situation without putting a bullet into the kid. He patted his chest aga
in.

  ‘American. Me… American… understand?’

  He watched as the boy tilted his head to one side and finally spoke, a quiet voice, heavily accented English, shaky and stuttering with fear.

  ‘American? American?’ The boy pointed at him with his free hand and Ned smiled and nodded.

  ‘YES! American. Me American.’

  The boy lowered the pistol, but Ned remained still, not wanting to spook him. He was about to ask the boy for the gun when the child spoke again, and Ned’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.

  ‘Vic. Take me… Vic.’

  36

  ZAGROS MOUNTAINS, IRAN

  Vic Foley looked from the boy back to Ned and addressed the Delta Master Sergeant.

  ‘He said what?’

  Ned shook his head. ‘Take me to Vic. That’s what he said. Couldn’t believe my ears, didn’t realize you ran Assets that young.’

  Vic was examining the scrawny child in front of him as he replied. ‘Erm… we don’t. This is not my Asset, Ned. Lopez?’

  The tall Texan came forward. ‘What do you need?’

  ‘Ask the kid who the hell he is and how he knows my name. Oh, and what the hell he’s doing out here.’

  Lopez nodded and squatted down until his face was level with that of the boy’s. In soft tones he spoke with the waif, introducing himself and relaying Vic’s questions in a gentle manner. The kid’s face was a mess of swelling and blood, but Lopez could still see the fear apparent. There was a small pause before the boy replied, his small face grimacing at the pain from his shattered mouth. When he’d finished, Lopez nodded and turned to Vic.

  ‘Says a man called Karim rescued him. He’s been helping this Karim guy fight the evil men who tried to stop them meeting Karim’s American friend.’ Lopez paused and gave a glance back at the boy before continuing. ‘Says Karim is dead, body not far from here. But before he died, he gave the kid something and told him that he had to ask to be taken to Vic. This Karim guy taught him to say it in English.’

  Vic moved towards the boy and slowly placed his hand on the trembling shoulder. ‘Okay, tell him I’m Vic and ask him what it is he has for me.’

  Lopez interpreted the request and the boy responded by unzipping the top of his jacket and rummaging inside until he pulled out a small, rectangular object and handed it to the CIA officer. Vic looked at the object and saw that it was a case of some sort, metallic and with a dual-button release mechanism. He applied pressure to the buttons and the top of the casing separated from the bottom with a soft click. Taking great care, Vic removed the lid and studied the contents of the small case. Four USB thumb-drives were seated in molded depressions in the base of the case. He shook his head in wonder. Seven had come through. The man had died on a freezing mountain due to the information he’d been carrying but he’d still made sure that he got it to Vic. He turned back to Lopez.

  ‘Tell the kid he’s done an amazing job. Amazing. Get him cleaned up and see to his injuries as best you can, I want to get these out over the comms now. Birds inbound in less than five, so we need to work fast.’ He turned on his heel and began striding towards Dwight but stopped and looked back at the boy.

  ‘Lopez, what’s the kid’s name?’

  There was a brief conversation and Lopez looked back at Vic and grinned.

  ‘Says his name is Palang. That’s Farsi for leopard.’

  Vic returned the smile and nodded at the boy. ‘Well, that works for me. Thank you for your courage, Palang.’ With that, he hurried over to Dwight to get the contents of the drives uploaded and into the system. Even if the team had trouble making it out, at least the information would get to the right people. He dropped to one knee and spoke quickly, directing Dwight as the comms specialist set up the SATCOM to link with the encrypted laptop. Vic punched in his access codes and the machine booted up instantly. He placed the first of the drives in one of the ports and initiated the download. The task was complete in under five seconds and he repeated it with each drive until he’d finished, stored the drives back in their case and secured the case in one of his interior pockets. Turning back to the laptop he fired a quick missive to the analyst department where Seven’s information was assessed and disseminated and signposted them to the location of the information he had just uploaded. It would have been flagged as incoming Flash Traffic from Operations anyway, but Vic didn’t want to leave anything to chance. He looked up as Dwight tapped his shoulder.

  ‘Birds in two.’

  Vic nodded and packed the laptop away as Dwight disassembled the SATCOM gear and stowed it away. Ned jogged past and pointed.

  ‘I’ll bring the chopper in. Lopez is dealing with the bodies and Deke’s pulling security. Gonna try to find some level ground around here.’

  Vic waved in response and walked over to where the boy was sitting hunched against some rocks, chin tucked into his jacket in an attempt to stay warm. Vic sat beside him and using hand movements and sounds demonstrated as best he could, a helicopter coming in to pick them up. After the initial confusion apparent in the boy’s expression, he saw the message eventually sink in and the kid nodded his understanding. Vic could hear Ned talking to the pilots and now heard the hum of the rotors as the sound drifted in and out of hearing range, carried on the gusting wind. He listened as Ned described the LZ to the pilots and his recommendation that they leave the back of the helicopter hanging over the steep ledge as he didn’t think the slope they found themselves on would accommodate the bird’s full size. Vic understood and had seen this done several times before and was sure it was nothing new to these pilots. The sound of the rotors was now stronger and continual, and he heard the pilot confirm he had visual on Ned’s signal. Deke informed them that he had no hostile activity present and the pilot acknowledged as the first bird came into the LZ under Ned’s guidance.

  While it was adjusting its landing on the treacherous slope, Ned nominated the guys he wanted to get on the first chopper and directed them to take the dead with them. Vic watched as Lopez and his detail picked the bodies up between them and ferried them in shifts to the helicopter that was still invisible to Vic through the dark and snow. It was under a minute when he heard Ned transmit that the first bird was clear to go. The Delta Master Sergeant then called everyone else in for the next lift. Vic turned to the boy and motioned for him to get up. When he stood, Vic put his arm around the kid’s skinny shoulders and jogged towards the LZ, eventually sighting Ned’s Infra-Red chem light that he was swinging in a loop to guide them in. As Vic and the boy arrived, Ned indicated with his hand where he wanted them to wait and tapped the back of his head several times. Vic understood the message and reached to the back of his own helmet and clicked on the Infra-Red strobe that the pilots would see as they descended. He looked up as another two figures joined them, Deke giving him the thumbs-up to let him know everyone was in. Deke then relayed this to Ned and the bird was called in. Vic covered the boy’s eyes with his hand and lowered his head as the sound of the rotors became loud.

  37

  ZAGROS MOUNTAINS, IRAN

  Sergeii smiled and looked up into the dark sky and driving snow. Yes; there it is again. He could hear it better now. His pick-up was coming. His beautiful krokodil, the king of Russian helicopters, was coming to pluck him from this freezing mountain. To take him back to the barracks where he was going to drink and maybe go into town, enjoy himself in that little whorehouse where he and Vladimir had once… His smile turned to a frown of confusion as he couldn’t remember who had called the helicopter in and why they had done it. Weren’t they supposed to finish this route march and get the trucks to bring them back? He coughed, deep hacks emitting a bloody spittle from his mouth leaving a pink, frothy residue in the corners.

  The agony in his chest cleared his mind and Sergeii remembered exactly where he was. This was no Spetsnaz training exercise in the Urals. There was no nearby town, let alone whorehouse. There was no transport, helicopter or otherwise coming for him. He was on the side of a f
reezing mountain in Iran, the sole survivor of a team of exceptional soldiers. And he was dying. Knew he’d lost too much blood and could feel his lung collapsing as the air leaking into the cavity deflated the organ like a punctured soccer ball. He wouldn’t have long to wait; the dreams and hallucinations becoming longer and more realistic. Hell, he could still hear the imaginary helicopter from his last daydream. This brought a sad smile to his face and he leaned his head back against the rock, closing his eyes once more, surrendering to the inevitable.

  His thoughts ran together; a miasma of memories and recollections of friends, fighting, wars and women. He remembered Julya, the receptionist from Lviv he’d initially ran as an informer but had soon found far more pleasurable in bed. She had incredible red hair and he tried to remember her face but couldn’t concentrate because of the noise from that bastard helicopter. He frowned with frustration as he tried to ignore the imaginary machine and return to the lovely Julya, but it was bloody persistent and…

  Sergeii’s eyes snapped open and he stared into the darkness with an intensity that had all but deserted him since being wounded. The helicopter was real. It was here. And it wasn’t his. For several seconds he did nothing but listen, his entire attention devoted to the sound of rotors. And then a gust of wind buffeted him and answered his last doubt. Did he dare hope that Zana and his troops were mere meters away from him? That he could actually survive this? But he didn’t have the luxury of time with which to dwell on these questions: That helicopter would take off the instant it was loaded. Sergeii knew what he had to do.