Deathrace (14 page)

George and Franklin read the message. George waved.
“Hey, down here I’m out of my element. I’m not a country kind of guy. I’ll follow your lead.”

“The fucking highways out of town are the key,” Franklin said. “Wish we had a fax on this thing. We’ll have to use compass directions. Can’t be many roads to go nowhere.”

“Yeah, but getting on them, following them without being stopped by those military guards, will be the trick,” Douglas said.

About the same time in Tehran, General Ruhollah paced his office. They were too close now to permit anything to go wrong. Another three weeks and the men at the plant said the first device would be ready.

Only three weeks!

General Ruhollah could hardly believe it. He had pushed hard for the development of their own nuclear capability. He had had trouble at times, but had bulled through every roadblock. He had pinched money from many sources to fund the program. Now only three weeks away!

But there was something going on that he didn’t like. The U.S. CIA had been too active lately. One Iranian agent had been killed, the top CIA man was on the run. They had quashed three small Iranian groups who had fought the very idea of a nuclear facility. The large man, Tauksaun, was contained in his apartment. Anyone who came to see him was picked up for questioning. They would soon have a phone tap on his three phone lines.

Still there was something else. It was more a feeling than any hard facts he had. The dancer, Murrah, was one he had not been able to touch. He knew she was involved with one of the small anti-nuclear groups. He wasn’t sure which one or what they could do. His last report today was that she was not at her usual performance restaurant.

He checked and found that she had a series of dance engagements in Bandar-e ‘Abbas. Yes, his men reported that she had rented the usual plane she often used and flown out
that morning with the southern city her destination on the flight plan.

Her plane had landed there earlier today.

Still he wondered. It was only four hundred miles on to Chah Bahar. There were no indications that she was going to go there. Still it worried him.

More and more people knew that “something” had been built in the mountains above the southern city. A project this big could not be done in secret. The construction people alone numbered over a thousand. But they didn’t know what they were building.

The lens grinders had been the biggest security leak. They didn’t know what they worked on, but educated guesses could be made. Secrecy plus the intricate grinding process must have led many to speculate.

Only three more weeks.

He made up his mind in a flash, the way he always did. Tomorrow he would fly to Chah Bahar. The small airstrip was large enough for his personal plane to land. In the morning he would order two more companies of infantry troops to report to the main security building in Chah Bahar. That would make four companies, about eight hundred men. He wished he could station some of their jet fighters there, but the runway wasn’t long enough. Perhaps at the Bandar-e ‘Abbas airport. He would have to check it. He could send six attack helicopters to Chah Bahar. The French ones they bought last month would do fine.

If anyone tried to disrupt the work at the nuclear plant, they would be in for a huge surprise. He had no idea what to expect. He guessed that the CIA knew of the program by now. Such a huge undertaking was hard to keep totally under wraps.

General Ruhollah went to his telephone and made three calls. The plane would be ready in the morning at six o’clock. It was the smaller one that could land at Chah. At 200 mph top speed, it would take most of the day to get
there. Then he would look over the security, and welcome the new troops that would arrive in three days.

If anyone tried to get within ten miles of the plant, they would be met with deadly force.

General Ruhollah poured a small glass of bourbon from a secret bottle in his desk. No good Muslim drank liquor. He sighed and tipped the glass. He had spent too much time in England as an attaché. Maybe he wasn’t a good Muslim. It didn’t matter one way or the other. He had little patience with the old-timers, the hard-liners who wanted Iran’s 70 million people to turn back the clock and live the way their grandfathers had.

It was a new world.

Iran must be ready to compete.

Iran must be ready to defend herself with nuclear weapons.

Iran must be ready to conquer the five big Arab states on the peninsula. Then they would speak with one voice to the West. They would dictate the terms of world commerce and the price of their oil.

Iran must be ready!

With six nuclear bombs, they would be ready.

15

They heard the news just after dinner. A young man on a scruffy-looking motorcycle pulled in through the inn’s main doors and was met with food and a long drink of cold water. He talked quietly with the owner of the inn and Murrah. Douglas watched the conversation from his second-floor window looking into the courtyard, and he could tell it was bad news.

Douglas took the steps three at a time and ran down into the courtyard. The talk continued. It was in Farsi or something else he didn’t understand. After two exchanges, Murrah turned to Douglas.

“We have problem. There is an army unit at Jask turning everyone around who tries to go toward Chah Bahar. Even those who live there must stop and give details about their lives, and their identification papers. The roadblock is tight.”

“How far is Jask?”

“Halfway, about two hundred miles,” Murrah said.

“I move we get there as fast as we can. Leave in a half hour. Then we’ll be there in the dark.”

Murrah shook her head. “How will that help us?”

“We’ll share riding the pony. We travel down that way, and as soon as we spot the roadblock ahead, the three of us will get off while you and your driver continue on. You’re a star in this country. Tell them that you’re going to Chah Bahar to entertain the soldiers stationed there. It’s a sudden impulse you had to cheer up the troop on such rigorous duty.”

Murrah began to smile as he outlined the plan, then she smiled broadly, and kissed his cheek.

“Yes, it will work. I’ve gotten into war areas more than once in the past. Yes, they will let me through.”

“While you chat with the guards, the three of us will circle around the roadblock well into the darkness of the countryside. When we see you get through, we’ll head for the road well down and out of sight of the block. We’ll get back in the car and hope that’s the last roadblock we meet.”

Murrah nodded. “Yes, yes, it could work. I’ll have a good story worked up, but we have two hundred miles for me to figure it out. Yes. I’ll get talking to some people and get things ready. They have the car for us. Good enough to make the run on one tank full of petrol, but not flashy enough to get us in trouble.

“You round up your two friends, and get them down here in fifteen minutes. I’ll need that long to get some basic supplies and some of my performance gear packed in the suitcase. I’m never without at least two outfits. Hurry now.”

Murrah questioned the cycle rider again. He told her that the roadblock was just past the far side of Jask, so it didn’t interfere with local traffic. When he was stopped, there were three soldiers and an officer in a closed car. Two full-sized trucks stretched across the two-lane road from ditch to ditch. One older car had tried to run the blockade going around the side. It had been shot full of holes, and rolled into the ditch, where the driver and two passengers died.

The soldiers left it there as an object lesson.

The soldiers all had submachine guns. He didn’t know what type, but they scared hell out of him. He turned around the first time he was ordered to do so, without a word of protest.

“Love to have those sub-guns,” Franklin said. “How can we make it look like an accident if we take out that block?”

“No way. Besides the officer in the closed car must have a radio and the word would be out on us before we could go to cover come daylight.”

“Afraid so,” Franklin said. “Maybe the next roadblock will be smaller, and we can do some good. Hate to be here in enemy territory with only this little peashooter.”

“That’s a Roger. We’ll see what develops. You can’t make an oyster stew without killing a few oysters.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Let’s get in this car, and try to look like natives.”

The road south was worse than they had imagined. By the time they got to Jask, it was after midnight. Their Iranian driver found the right road south but mostly west along the shoreline of the Gulf of Oman. Five miles out of the main port of town, they spotted the roadblock ahead.

Just as the cyclist had said, it was a good one. The death car had been pulled away, but the two large trucks with trailers still blocked the road. A jeep sat in front of it with a mounted .30-caliber machine gun. A staff car showed to one side. Two armed soldiers stood at the barricade.

The three Americans bailed out of the sedan while it kept moving. They vanished into the inland side, and moved cautiously through the sparse vegetation. It wasn’t a desert land, but almost.

Douglas watched the sedan roll on down the road, and soon stop at the checkpoint. They jogged then, moving as fast as they could over the uneven ground.

George lagged behind. They waited for him twice. Douglas cut the speed down so the big CIA man could
stay with them. They were a hundred yards into the landscape when they came even with the barricade. There were no wires or warning devices they could see or feel.

They saw the two soldiers talking with Murrah, then an officer came from the staff car. There was some laughter. Then as they hurried on past, the Americans heard one of the big trucks’ engines start, and the truck pulled out of the way for the star dancer’s car to slip through.

“Could have taken the three of them easy,” Franklin said.

“Easy, but how would it have looked like an accident? Remember, we can’t leave a bunch of bodies around, at least not until we get some backup—like the rest of Third Platoon.”

They went faster then, and slanted toward the road. They were two hundred yards down the blacktopped highway when they got back to the road. The car had moved away from the barricade slowly. Now they ran to match its ten-mile-an-hour speed, and get on board.

“Made it,” Murrah said when the three were safely in the backseat. “There’s one more roadblock ahead, but the Captain said I should have no trouble. All I had to do was mention that I was coming at the specific invitation of General Reza Ruhollah. He’s one of the big movers in the new Iranian Army.”

“How far to the next block?” Douglas asked.

“Halfway, about a hundred miles. That’s about three hours the way we’re moving. At least we won’t have to worry about any other traffic on the road.”

It was a little after 0300 when they spotted the next roadblock.

“This one we’re taking out,” Douglas said. “We need some weapons. We’ll make it look like an accident some how. Pull up the same way, go a little slower as you get close. If there’s an officer, get him out to talk. We’ll come in from the darkness at each side. Try not to get too close to any of them, and don’t get between them.”

Franklin watched the dancer. “He’s saying there’s going to be some shooting. The closer we can get with these little parabellums the better.”

They left the car the same way, hit the ditches on each side of the road, and ran, keeping pace with the car. It slowed more as it came up to the headlights that now shown from the two vehicles. There were no big trucks at this spot.

The car stopped fifteen feet from the Army vehicle, and the driver got out quickly. He jabbered something, and the soldiers came forward.

When Murrah left the car, it was a grand entrance. The soldiers let their submachine guns swing down and gawked. An officer came out at once. He showed no weapon, and was all smiles.

Franklin and Douglas had agreed to shoot over the heads of the Iranians. They didn’t want bullet holes showing up in the bodies later.

The SEALs shot almost at the same time. Franklin barked out in Farsi, telling the men to lay down their weapons at once or they would be riddled with bullets. The soldiers did as they were told. The officer made a lunge for his car, where he must have left his weapon. Murrah’s driver tackled him, and by then Franklin and Douglas were on the scene. They had noticed a cliff of sorts that dropped off here almost into the Gulf of Oman. It would be a hundred-foot fall.

Douglas took one of the soldiers, put him in the jeep, and backed it out. He drove toward the cliffs and parked. He kept the man under his own submachine gun.

Douglas found the right spot, then pushed the Iranian into the jeep’s driver’s seat and slashed him with the butt of the submachine gun. It took two blows to put him out. Then Douglas started the jeep, put it in gear, and steered it straight for the drop-off. It went over with a scraping of the undercarriage. He heard the crash far below, and glass breaking, then silence.

He went back to help Franklin. He had tied the officer’s
hands, and had both men in the officer’s car. Franklin drove the rig to the cliff and got out.

They put the soldier in the driver’s seat and the officer in the back, then slugged them with their weapons. They took the ties off the hands of the officer, then angled the small sedan off the same cliff. It crashed far below in the rocks and incoming tide. It should take the Iranian police, and the military, at least a week to figure out what happened at this poorly manned roadblock.

Back at Murrah’s sedan, they said nothing, just motioned the rig forward. George started to say something, then thought better of it. They had the two submachine guns and found six 30-round magazines for each one. They were simple to use. George also found a 14-round pistol in the officer’s gear.

Murrah broke the silence. “I’m glad that’s over. At least now we’ll have a clear run into Chah Bahar. I know a few people there. We should be able to find a safe house before morning. Then I and my driver will see what we can find out about the highways to the north. Somebody must know something. How can such a huge project be kept so secret?”