Exit Plan

9. THE HARD WAY

4 April 2013

0810 Local Time/0510 Zulu

Southeast of Bandar Kangan, North of Highway 96

The sound jarred Jerry out of a deep, intense dream. Whatever the dream had been about was blasted away by a raucous Waah Waah Waah that filled the small cave.

Several of the group, like Jerry, had been sound asleep, but as he sat up, he saw Ramey and Fazel already awake and almost running to the sleeping Iranian couple, also stirring. Before Yousef or Shirin could sit up, the SEALs tore off the blanket and quickly searched the two. Fazel answered angry, confused shouts from Yousef with firm, sharp words in Farsi.

On the fifth or sixth Waah, Ramey pulled a cell phone out of Yousef’s pants pocket. Holding it as if it was a venomous insect, he studied it for a moment, then tugged at the bottom of the case. Removing the cover, he pulled out the battery, silencing the device.

Yousef spoke rapidly to Ramey, but the lieutenant cut him off with a gesture and ordered Fazel, “Tell him I’m going to have Pointy check this out to make sure it doesn’t have any tracking device in it, and ask him if he or his wife have any more cell phones or pagers — anything that pushes electrons.”

Ramey gave the phone and battery to Lapointe, adding, “And see who was trying to call him.”

Jerry stood, still processing the event. Someone had tried to call Yousef Akbari. He hadn’t answered, of course, but what did it mean for them? Fazel was speaking in soft but urgent tones with Shirin and Yousef. Ramey had taken the lookout post just outside the cave, and Jerry moved to join him.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t answer,” Jerry remarked.

“He’s not stupid,” Ramey answered. After a moment, he added, “But he wasn’t smart enough to turn it off.”

Ramey seemed uneasy, and shifted his position several times, not to get comfortable, but to improve his field of view.

“You’re trying to decide if we need to bug out.”

“It’s crossed my mind,” Ramey answered casually. “A lot depends on what Harry and Pointy find out.”

It took Fazel another few minutes to finish his conversation and join them. “He bought it in Isfahan about six months ago,” Harry reported. “He’s required to have one whenever he’s off base, and thought it would be suspicious if he turned it off.”

Jerry nodded. “It would have been.”

Ramey wasn’t as kind. “He should have told us about it. He’s put us all at risk. If they can track it, then they know where he is, where we are,” he reasoned.

“But this is where they’re supposed to be — on vacation.” Fazel answered.

“Let’s hope they still think that he’s on vacation.” Jerry’s mind filled with other possibilities, but it all depended on whether Yousef and Shirin’s deception still held.

“Dr. Naseri also had a cell phone; she says she uses it to talk to her handler. The phone is registered in a fictitious name and they use the Skype function so they can’t be traced. It was off when she showed it to me.” Fazel handed the phone to Ramey.

Lapointe made his report next. “It’s a commercial model, made in Germany. It’s low-end, with no GPS capability, which made it simple to check out. As far as I can tell, it hasn’t been modified. There’s also no tracking device, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have the ability to localize an active cell phone. If you’re looking for one specific phone, it can be linked to the closest tower, whether someone is talking on it or not.

“I put the phone under a couple of thermal blankets and slipped the battery back in just long enough to get a list of the most recent calls. It’s only been used once in the past two days: the incoming call this morning. Here’s the number.”

He offered a slip of paper to Jerry, who gestured to Fazel. “Find out if he recognizes the number.”

The medic took the paper and turned to go to Yousef, but the captain had come to join them, concerned, or even fearful. The corpsman gave him the paper and spoke briefly. Yousef’s face drained of color. Fazel translated his answer.

“It’s Major Sadi’s number. He is my superior at Natanz. They are looking for me.”

4 April 2013

0950 Local Time/0650 Zulu

Natanz, Iran

Rahim gave them two hours, but the Shiraz office called ten minutes short of his deadline. “Captain Akbari’s automobile is parked at Mehry Naseri’s house. It has not been driven since they left on the excursion. I posed as someone interested in buying the car, and while examining it, verified that the tracker was in place. She maintains that the owners will be back tomorrow evening, ‘probably late,’ in her words.

“She also said their Cowin had developed mechanical trouble, so the couple took her car on their trip. It’s a light blue 2001 Peykan. The license plate is Shiraz 21S347. We have e-mailed you all the details.”

Rahim copied the information. “What did she say about their plans?”

“She was happy to pass the time. According to her, they are staying at a hotel in Bandar Kangan, and plan to visit a park in the area, and go to the shore.”

“Good work.” It was a simple task, but Rahim believed in recognizing competence. “Find out what the mechanical problem was. Watch her closely, and compile a list of her contacts. Monitor all communications — personal visits, phone, whatever, regardless of who it is with. This is your highest priority. And send everything you’ve discovered to the Bushehr office.”

“Yes, Major.” Rahim had not told the agent why he wanted the information, or who Mehry Naseri was. Traitor or witness, it didn’t matter. Officers in VEVAK did as they were told.

It was still a few minutes before ten, but Rahim didn’t wait. They’d changed their car. That was suspicious. Yes, there was an innocent explanation, but he’d need some convincing before he bought that story. He cursed his own complacency for not checking the tracker’s location. It would have shown they’d changed cars. They’d given no sign of knowing they were being watched.

The office in Bushehr was less helpful. “Computer records show nobody has checked into a hotel in Bandar Kangan or anywhere else along the coast under either name. We have dispatched an investigator to Kangan with photos to make inquiries. It’s a two-hour drive, and we expect him to arrive—”

Rahim interrupted. “Enough. Send their pictures to the local police in Kangan and tell them to search for the couple, with haste. And have them look for the car.” He told the Bushehr agent about the Peykan.

“Yes, Major.”

“This matter is urgent. I want hourly reports.”

“Yes, Major.”

Rahim hungup impatiently. So, a young couple, off on an excursion. They tell her mother they’re going one place, and then they go somewhere else. They could have changed their minds en route, or gotten to Kangan and decided to go elsewhere. It could happen.

Or they could have lied to her. But Rahim didn’t think so. Naseri was arrogant and far too intelligent for her own good, but she was close to her family. And she had no reason to lie to her mother. So if there was a lie, it was meant to deceive others.

A trip to the coast was innocent enough, but Rahim didn’t see the gulf as scenic. Its waters had been a highway for smugglers and spies since time began. Had they met with a foreign agent? Were they trying to defect?

He made another call, this time to the VEVAK liaison at the Mobile Communications Company of Iran.

“Electronics.”

“This is Major Rahim. What is the status of Yousef Akbari?”

“One moment.” Rahim could hear taps on a computer keyboard.

“Subject Akbari, Yousef, Pasdaran Captain.”

“That is correct.”

“The subject was nearest to tower 1709, at Bandar Kangan, until the signal stopped this morning at 0810.”

“Stopped?”

“The most likely cause is the cell phone being turned off or the battery running low.”

Rahim searched for an explanation. “Is there any possibility he simply moved out of range of a cell tower?”

“He was receiving a call when the phone went dead.”

“Who was calling him?”

The operator read the number. “It’s assigned to a telephone at the Natanz Facility, an office assigned to a Major Sadi.” Anger flashed through Rahim, and he fought to control it. He wasn’t finished with the phone call.

“Send me a map with the area that the tower covers.”

“I’ll send it right away, Major.”

“And notify me instantly if his phone turns back on.”

“Yes, sir.”

With the connection broken, Rahim placed the receiver back in its cradle gently, exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do. Sadi had called Akbari on his cell phone ten minutes after he’d had Sadi call the mother’s house.

Rahim tried to build scenarios and possible courses of action. What did Sadi know, or suspect? A cautious man considers…

Screw caution.

Sadi was out inspecting the light antiaircraft emplacements when Rahim found him. Each twin 23mm or 35mm gun was emplaced on an earthen mound to give it a better field of fire. On top of the mound, the gun was protected by a ring of sandbags, and a ramp led back to ground level, where there was stowage for ammunition and a dugout shelter for the crew.

Sadi’s jeep was parked next to one of the emplacements. The gun crew was lined up next to their weapon, at attention. Sadi was talking to them, while the captain in charge of the light antiaircraft guns stood to one side, taking notes.

Rahim’s driver roared up next to the mound, the noise making Sadi stop and turn. When he saw who sat in the back, he spoke a few words to his subordinate and trotted down the ramp.

Rahim got out and started walking away from the jeep and the gun emplacement. The gun line was spaced several hundred meters out from the facility, and the individual emplacements were also several hundred meters apart, separated by open, bare ground. He walked quickly, forcing Sadi to run to catch up. They were forty or fifty meters away when he finally slowed and turned to face Sadi.

Purple with rage, Rahim spat, “You called Akbari! What were you thinking? Explain yourself!”

Sadi, horrified, reflexively came to attention. He didn’t speak immediately, and Rahim could see thoughts flow across his face as the major tried to decide what to say. “Answer me!” Rahim demanded.

The other man swallowed, and said softly, “I… I remembered that I had Captain Akbari’s cell phone number. I thought that if you were trying to reach him, I should… tell him.”

“You mean warn him.” Rahim’s voice was made of metal. “You moron, you mistake of God! Don’t you think I have his cell phone number as well?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.” A pleading tone filled his words. “I only wanted to help you find Akbari.”

“And by calling him, you’ve interfered in affairs greater than you can possibly imagine. Matters of life and death for many, including yours, are at stake.”

Rahim could see that it had finally sunk in. “I’m sorry, sir,” Sadi repeated. “What can I do?”

“Nothing.” Rahim spat out the word. “Attempting to correct your mistake will only increase the scope of the catastrophe. Since it wasn’t clear before, I will say it now. Do not speak of either call you made to Akbari, now or later. Do not speak of my interest in Akbari, or repeat anything I ever have or will say to you in the future.”

“Yes, Major.” Sadi’s face was as pale as milk. His breath was a shallow rasp, and his entire body trembled.

“Don’t ever involve yourself in my affairs again!” Rahim turned and walked off without waiting for an answer from the terrified officer. Reaching his jeep, he looked back to see Sadi still standing, unmoving, where he’d left him.

It would have given him great pleasure to arrest Sadi, to question him until he admitted to being the Twelfth Imam, then execute him for blasphemy. But arresting the major would have drawn attention to Akbari’s actions, and possibly to other events in play.

It didn’t really matter. Moradi’s plan was moving forward. In a short while, Sadi would either be killed in the raid or executed for mounting an incompetent defense. He would make a convenient scapegoat.

Part of Rahim’s anger was also directed inward. Again, he’d depended on technology. The cell phone tracking had been so reliable that he’d taken it for granted. Technology was useful, but it couldn’t replace human intellect. Returning to his office, he told his deputy, “Get me a helicopter for a flight to Isfahan, and then a plane to Bushehr. As fast as you can.”

4 April 2013

1200 Local Time/0900 Zulu

Southeast of Bandar Kangan, North of Highway 96

They’d tried sleeping to pass the time, and were still worn out. Jerry had dozed, but it wasn’t restful. In fact, he felt restless and uncertain. He’d spent much of the morning going over the logic of the cell phone call. What if it had been an innocent call? But answering would have allowed VEVAK to track the signal. It was also possible that their location was known anyway. In which case, turning the phone off might tell the authorities something as well.

Jerry watched Ramey, and knew he was working through the same process, with the same results. By rights, the two senior officers should be sharing their thoughts and looking for other options, but the SEAL lieutenant’s demeanor made Jerry reluctant to approach him.

There was little to do, and a lot of time to do it in. Jerry remembered times on Michigan when he would have leapt at a chance to sit quietly and let his thoughts roam. Now they raced ahead, urging his body to follow. He wasn’t bored. There was too much at stake. But the best course was the one they were following — hunker down and wait out the day.

They’d shared a breakfast of MREs. The SEALs had expertly prepared theirs. Fazel had tried to explain the package’s contents to Yousef and Shirin, but it had not gone well. Jerry could not understand Farsi, but he’d seen Yousef almost snatch the rations away from the medic, then gesture impatiently at Fazel’s explanation.

Fazel’s expression had darkened, and he’d spat out something that left both Yousef and Shirin frowning.

An argument wasn’t going to help anybody. But as Jerry had started to stand, Lapointe was already next to Fazel. He had one arm around the medic, resting on his shoulder, and spoke softly. Fazel’s posture sagged a little, and the two SEALs retreated to their own side of the cave, where Ramey joined them. All three looked solemn, and spoke to each other with quiet voices.

After a while he caught Lapointe’s eye and the petty officer came over. He didn’t wait for Jerry’s question. “Harry’s just pissed, XO. He’s pissed about Higgs and about being cooped up here in this cave, and right now he’s especially pissed about having to breathe the same air as the captain over there.”

“We’re all cooped up, Pointy.”

“Remember what I said about sympathy, sir.” Lapointe grinned.

Jerry nodded, smiling. “I get it, but what about Akbari? The guy’s on our side.”

“Harry told me he considers the captain a double traitor, first to the Iranian people, then to his own service.”

“That’s a little harsh.”

“I’ve known Fazel for a long time, and I’d heard about him before that. He’s obviously the perfect man for this mission, but it’s tearing him up. He told us about his family back in Cincinnati. How his parents got out of Iran, and what they’d lost. His family really suffered, and they didn’t hide this from their children. Coming here is making it all too real for him.

“He’s got a lot of relatives up north, near Tehran. They try to keep in touch, but too much contact and the secret police will come for them, too. That Pasdaran officer over there is exactly what he’s been taught to hate.”

“What about you, Pointy? Does your job include referee?”

“Priest, counselor, and batting coach, as needed, XO. You know the drill. The problem is, we’ve got too much time to think right now.”

Jerry wasn’t sure how much Ramey had slept. He’d been on lookout when Jerry fell asleep last night, and had been awake already when Yousef’s cell phone had rung.

Whatever his fatigue, Ramey was full of pent-up energy. Jerry watched the team leader check the cave’s camouflage and lines of sight. Then he double-checked his gear and each team member’s equipment, one after another. He’d even explored the cave itself, which took an unsatisfyingly short time.

Finally, he’d sat down facing Shirin and Yousef, who’d stayed huddled under the thermal blanket, in spite of the day’s warmth. The two had spoken softly, perhaps planning, or praying, for all the Farsi that Jerry understood. As he approached, they watched him silently.

“Ma’am, I think you should give us the encryption key.”

Shirin’s expression hardened. “What reason could I have for giving it to you?

“So that if anything happens to you and your husband, we can still get the information you have to our people.”

She nodded. “And that is exactly why we will keep it. Without us, you have nothing.”

“Ma’am, we’re not going to leave you behind. I thought you wanted the world to know about Iran’s nuclear weapons program. Telling us the key increases the chance of that happening.”

“No.” Her tone was as hard as her expression. “Why was the boat canceled last night? The one that would have taken us to your submarine.”

“Too many boat patrols. It was too risky.”

“If you had been more willing to take risks, we would be aboard your submarine right now, not hiding in a cave.”

“Ma’am, we took risks on this mission you can hardly imagine. One of my men is dead because of the risks we took.” He sighed, a sound that mixed sadness and frustration. “There are good risks and bad ones. You have to judge them carefully.”

“My husband and I know all about risk, Mr. SEAL. We have been stealing and sending secret information to your government for years, while VEVAK watched every move we made. Every day, every hour, I worried if we had given ourselves away somehow, if they were coming to arrest us. Can you imagine being afraid of every knock on the door, every phone call?”

Her voice rose. “And do you know what we were risking? Being called traitors by the ones we love would be the easiest part. Have you ever heard of Evin Prison? Do you know what would happen to Yousef and me in that hateful place? Yousef’s brother was taken there and never came out. I have prayed that he died quickly. What a terrible thing to pray for.”

“We’ll get out of here, and I give you my word that we’ll all get out together.”

“But it isn’t your decision, Mr. SEAL. Others have to take risks. They must want to come and get us. Us.” She pointed to Yousef and herself. “Not the files. I have the baby to consider. And there are other things we know, not in the files, even more important.”

“You’ve mentioned that before. What things?”

“Get us to your submarine, let them read the files. Then they will listen to us.”

“I’m listening now.”

“No.”

4 April 2013

1500 Local Time/1200 Zulu

Bandar Kangan

The helicopter from Bushehr landed at an athletic field near the edge of town. They were waiting to meet him. A police jeep in one corner headed toward his aircraft as soon as the engines spooled down.

A young man in civilian clothes hurried over as the helicopter’s door opened. “Major? I’m Karim Dahghan, from the Bushehr office.”

Rahim stepped from the helicopter and walked quickly toward the jeep. “You will be my assistant while I’m here.”

“Yes, sir.” Dahghan managed to look pleased and worried at the same time. As they approached the jeep, a young officer in a police uniform saluted.

“This is Lieutenant Rastkar. He commands Kangan’s police.”

Rastkar, standing next to the jeep, offered his hand. “We’ve made space for you and Mr. Dahghan at the barracks.”

Rahim climbed in back, with Dahghan next to him. Rastkar sat in front, next to the police driver, and said, “Go.”

Turning in his seat to face Rahim, he explained, “Kangan is a small town. We will be at headquarters in just a few minutes. We have already made progress. The couple you asked about was seen in several places yesterday.”

Dahghan continued, “We found the hotel they were staying at, registered for two nights. They used the name ‘Fardid.’ They did not return to their room last night. The last sighting we have of them is in the early evening. We are still assembling a time line of their movements.”

Kangan really was a small town, little more than a fishing village. The police barracks was a jumbled one-story structure that had seen several additions, but was in need of renovation. The barracks was full of activity, and Rastkar explained, “Normally we deal with a little smuggling, some domestic cases. A manhunt is much more interesting.”

The space they’d set aside for Rahim and Dahghan was clean, if rundown. Several documents were waiting on one corner of a desk, and Rahim set down his valise and quickly skimmed them. The others waited patiently.

“Their car was seen outside town.” It was a flat statement to Dahghan.

“Yes, sir. We interviewed the two Basij soldiers who found the vehicle. It was parked just off Highway 96. It was locked, with nobody in the vehicle or nearby. There was nothing suspicious, so they noted the license plate and continued their patrol. When they returned on the next leg of their patrol, an hour later, the vehicle was gone.”

“And this was in the early evening, yesterday.”

“A short time after sunset, Major.”

Rahim sat down, looking thoughtful. Rastkar asked, “May I know what offense these people have committed? My officers have asked if they may be violent, or armed.”

The major answered, “Their specific offense is not your concern. Akbari is a Pasdaran officer, and most likely is armed. Our first priority is to find them. Once we do, it is important that they be taken alive. There are many questions I want to ask them. Your officers must not shoot them, no matter the provocation.”

“Yes, sir.” Rastkar didn’t look pleased, but he knew where Rahim’s authority came from.

“I am concerned that these people may have contacted foreign agents. They may be meeting one, or may have met one last night. It doesn’t matter if that foreigner is still with them, or if they have exchanged items or information. Whatever has happened, our first priority is to find them. Everything else will follow from that.

“Lieutenant Rastkar, were any boats out last night? Did you make any arrests near the water? Any unusual reports?”

“I’ll find out, sir.”

“Contact the local Basij commander. I want the two men who found the car to guide some of your officers to the exact spot they saw it. Search the area for any trace of activity. Move quickly. You only have a short time before sunset.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Also, tell the commander that I want to see him immediately,” Rahim added. “I have other work for them. Go.” Rastkar left quickly.

“Dahghan, search the hotel room. You know what to look for.”

The agent nodded.

“How are your relations with the police? Their commander?”

“They have been very helpful, Major. I have no complaints.”

“Good. Then go over the police reports on their movements. It’s possible that someone here in Kangan was the agent they were supposed to meet. Or they may have left something in a dead drop somewhere along their route. Follow their path and investigate anyone or any place you think is worthwhile.”

The agent nodded again, taking notes.

“And take one of the police officials along with you. He may see something that you wouldn’t know is unusual, and I don’t want you getting lost. Time is critical. The faster we work, the closer they’ll be.”

A large map of Kangan covered one wall. “Where is the cell phone tower? I assume there’s only one.”

Dahghan had to ask a police sergeant, who came in and marked a spot near the center of town.

“Akbari was within thirteen kilometers of this point when his phone went dead at 0810 hours this morning. Since their car was found east of town, along the highway, we can begin our search in the eastern half of that circle.”

A police sergeant knocked. “Sir, the Basij commander is here.”

Dahghan opened the door and stood back. A small man wearing a black turban and a brown, sleeveless cloak over his white robe waited for a moment, then came in, smiling. He was only a little older then Rahim, but his white beard gave him an air of great dignity. The black turban marked him as a descendant of Mohammed.

Rahim stood.

“I am Mullah Hamid Dashani, leader of the mosque and commander of the Kangan Brigade of the Basij.”

“Thank you for coming, Mullah Dashani. I am Major Rahim, from the Ministry of Intelligence and National Security.” Shaking the cleric’s hand, Rahim bowed his head slightly, and motioned to the chair on the other side of the desk.

Sitting, Dashani smiled broadly. “You have created quite a stir, Major. My Basij are at your service. In fact, they are already mustering, in advance of your orders. I think we may even have a few new volunteers.”

Rahim sighed. “I had hoped to investigate this matter quietly.”

“This is a small town, Major. Word spreads like lightning. A helicopter? A missing Pasdaran officer? I saw the pictures of the couple when Dahghan questioned my two men from last night. Are they mixed up with smugglers? Murderers? Or are they spies?” The cleric was still smiling.

“Please, Mullah Dashani. I cannot tell you any details, for obvious reasons, but I need your help.”

The major’s manner became more serious. “And please, no more speculation. I need checkpoints set up along the coastal highway and other major roads, as well as an increase in the number of patrols along the coast highway. I will also need, dedicated teams walking all the beaches north and south of the city. They should look for signs of a recent landing, or boats in unusual places. All foreigners must be stopped and questioned.”

“We could give you several checkpoints, each manned by four men. And four-man patrols walking the beaches. And we can ask the police for more vehicles.”

The cleric paused, and Rahim could see him calculating. “Normally we have just one patrol on the beaches, and another on the highway. We can do what you ask for a short while, but my brigade can only muster about fifty fighters. Many of them will have to miss work while we are mobilized. Should I ask some of the other brigade commanders for assistance?”

“No, please do not. It should only be for a few days. And tell your fighters that they are not to speak of this matter.”

Dashani nodded knowingly. “I understand.”

“And we need to increase the number of boat patrols, with some in close to shore, and others farther out.”

“This can be done. I am on very good terms with the Pasdaran naval commander here. I will coordinate closely with him.”

“If your men do find this couple, they should apprehend them, but it’s important that they be taken alive. Can they do this?”

“Of course. My boys are energetic. What they lack in skill, they make up in devotion.”

“There will be no pitched battles, I promise.”

They arranged the locations of the checkpoints and communications procedures, and the mullah left, excited and eager to “send his fighters into action.”

4 April 2013

1700 Local Time/1400 Zulu

USS Michigan, Battle Management Center

Captain Guthrie had been expecting to get a final brief on the rescue mission, but the plan was to wait until sunset to make a go/no go decision.

Instead, Frederickson had summoned him early, and he hadn’t sounded happy.

“We started to hear increased traffic on the naval circuits earlier today. It took some time to find out if they were reacting to something specific, but there hasn’t been any mention of a specific contact or an intercept.” Frederickson sighed. “But boat patrols have stepped up their coverage by over fifty percent.”

“Any pattern?”

“Yes, sir. But it’s not one we can exploit. There are too many boats out there now.”

“What if we shorten the run — say, close to six nautical miles?”

Frederickson fought to hide his surprise. “And disobey a direct presidential order?”

“It’s merely a hypothetical question, Mr. Frederickson,” remarked Guthrie quietly.

“Oh, well, in that case — it wouldn’t help, sir. There are way too many patrol boats. Besides, that isn’t our only problem.”

He gestured to an operator, who called up images on the briefing screen. “This is why I called you. This is the beach where the rendezvous took place.”

The UAV image showed the now-familiar beach, but Guthrie saw men in a ragged line, slowly walking over the landscape. “They’re searching for something,” he said.

Frederickson smiled grimly. “I don’t think they’re looking for seashells.”

“This is seriously not good. Why that beach?” Guthrie asked, but the answer was obvious. “Correction — Is there any way that this is not connected to our people?”

The SEAL lieutenant frowned. “There has been no activity in that area since our people left last night.”

“Other areas?”

“Nothing that we’ve seen, yet. They drove up in a couple of vehicles and began systematically searching the beach. We’ve got traffic on the road, people moving near structures, but this is the only organized activity near the shore within the UAV’s field of view.”

“Well, whoever they are, it’s obvious we can’t execute the pickup on that beach, or the secondary one down the coast.”

“They can’t stay there forever. My bet is that they’ll leave when they’ve finished their search, sunset at the latest. It’s really hard to search in the dark.”

“That’s not the real issue.” Guthrie countered. “Why are they there? Are the Iranians looking for our people? If so, how much do they know? How hard will they look?”

“Increased boat patrols, search parties?” Frederickson asked. “Less than a day after our guys landed on that beach? There is no other logical conclusion. The Iranians are looking for our people.”

“Then can we afford to have them sit tight? How safe is their hiding place?”

“Matt Ramey’s good, Skipper. I’ve walked within a few meters of his position and I didn’t spot him. But hiding’s what you do while you’re waiting for something to happen. If we can’t go in to get them, then hiding’s not the right thing to do.”

“We need a new plan,” Guthrie concluded.

“We’re improvising at this point, Skipper, but we’ll work up something.”

“I know a few things about staying covert myself. This is just like submarine warfare, but on land. The enemy has a datum, and they’re searching. The tactic is to clear datum quickly and quietly. Don’t let them get a better whiff of you, and get outside their search radius.”

Frederickson nodded. “Understood. Give me fifteen minutes with the rest of the platoon.”

4 April 2013

1745 Local Time/1445 Zulu

Southeast of Bandar Kangan, North of Highway 96

The call came early. They weren’t supposed to make a go/no-go decision until after sunset, and that wasn’t for another half hour. Jerry knew it had to be trouble. He took the handset from Lapointe.

It was Guthrie. “XO, we have to scrub the recovery mission. There are people carefully searching your beach, and the boat patrols have increased this afternoon. Dramatically increased. We can’t get a CRRC in to you, and even if we could, they’ll probably be waiting for us at the rendezvous site.”

Jerry’s heart sank. Automatically, he answered, “Understood, sir. Do you have a recommendation?”

“Get out of there. Head northwest to Bushehr and find a boat. It’s Frederickson’s recommendation and I agree. Put Lieutenant Ramey on and I’ll give him the details.”

Jerry had turned the handset so that Ramey and Lapointe, both now close by, could hear. The others had seen his face and heard his tone. He passed the handset to Ramey and said to the rest, “The recovery mission’s scrubbed. They’re looking for us.”

Shirin gasped and spoke quickly to her husband. His shocked expression matched hers, and they tried to ask questions, but Phillips and Fazel both motioned for silence while the lieutenant quickly made notes. He signed off, almost matter-of-factly.

“Mr. SEAL, Jerry said they were looking for us. Is it true?” Fear was wrapped around Shirin’s question.

Ramey nodded. “This afternoon, more patrol boats came out, and there’s a search party working the beach where we met. Only an idiot would think otherwise.”

He let that sink in, then said, “They won’t find anything, but they will expand their search tomorrow. It’s what I’d do. I’d also watch that beach. That plan is gone. We’ll head toward Bushehr and find a boat.”

“Bushehr is over a hundred kilometers from here,” she protested.

“Almost one eighty, according to the map. We’ll cut north, away from the water for a while, then overland until we can find transport. For the moment, we walk.”

“Stay off the roads?” Shirin asked.

“They’ve seen the car. They have its license number, and they’ll be watching the highway. We’d never make it past the first roadblock. We’ll have to steal something once we’re past Kangan.”

Yousef spoke softly but urgently to Shirin. She replied, and the conversation almost became an argument. Fazel listened, but did not translate. Finally, she seemed to remember that he could understand them, and spoke in English. “It might be better if we went to Bandar Charak. My uncle lives there. If we get to him, he will help us.”

“How trustworthy is your uncle?” Jerry asked.

“He is the one who passed my information on to the Americans. He’s opposed the government since the Revolution, and is a member of the Mujahedeen-e-Khalq, in your language the People’s Mujahedeen Organization of Iran. My uncle was going to send us out with a smuggler, but something went wrong. Then he arranged this meeting with you.”

“Which hasn’t worked out so well, either,” Ramey finished. He folded a map. “Bandar Charak is half again as far, in the other direction, and it’s near some medium-sized Pasdaran bases, but on the other hand Bushehr has the largest naval base in this part of the gulf… and it’s always good to know somebody in a strange town.” Ramey went silent as he weighed the possible enemy forces and the terrain, choosing their destination.

“All right, we head southeast. Pointy, call our friends back and tell them there’s been a change in destination. We’ll need a new route. Philly, this is as good a place as any to bury the swim gear. Doc, put dinner together. We should eat before we start out. We are gone at last light.”

“One other thing,” Ramey added. “The twenty-four-hour weather report has a storm coming in from the northwest sometime tomorrow morning. The forecast called it ‘a typical spring shamal pattern.’”

Yousef understood the word, and spoke urgently. Jerry didn’t. “A shamal?” he asked.

“Sandstorm,” Fazel explained. He nodded toward Yousef. “The captain thinks we should wait here until it passes.” The corpsman’s tone was full of contempt.

“They can’t search in a sandstorm,” Jerry reasoned.