Exit Plan (32 page)

He handed one to Salani, and two to Jebeli. “Here’s one for Jafari as well as you. Go ahead and load, and for the sake of the Prophet, keep your selectors on ‘Safe! ‘“

Molavi’s weapon was already loaded. He watched them insert the magazines, then said carefully, “Salani and I will go around this rise on the left while Jafari and Jebeli cover us from above. Remember trigger discipline. Nobody shoots unless they see a person with a gun. Even if I shoot, you don’t shoot unless you have a clear target, and anybody who shoots me had better kill me, or they’ll wish they were dead. Clear?”

Both privates nodded nervously, and Molavi sent Jebeli up to join Jafari on the crest. “And for pity’s sake, stay low near the crest!”

The corporal blessed the good fortune of having not sent Salani up the hill. He was the only one of the three that had anything on the ball. “You and I will circle around this rise. We take turns moving in rushes while the other one watches from cover. Just like that weekend practice. All right?”

~ * ~

Jerry listened to Phillips’s report of movement on the crest, suddenly feeling exposed. There was little cover, and he’d known better than to look for some when Ramey had told them to freeze.

Jerry knew which misshapen shadow was Phillips. Like Jerry, he was also on one knee, but probably was looking through his night-vision scope. Jerry had frozen in place with his rifle lowered, and dared not move now to raise it. Phillips had also managed to stop near a scrubby-looking bush. Combined with his camouflage, he was nearly invisible from Jerry’s position ten yards away. The ridge was much farther ahead, sixty or more yards.

“More movement, the same location.” Jerry studied the crest line carefully. There might be something near the top of the crest, but he couldn’t see it. He divided his time between watching the suspicious location and making sure Yousef and Shirin didn’t move.

Phillips was in front, with Lapointe nearest the highway, and Fazel on the left. Ramey was in the rear, and probably itching to move up. Fazel and Lapointe reported their sectors as clear, and Ramey told them to all hold in position. “XO, keep our friends very still.”

Jerry told Shirin about the sighting, and Ramey’s instructions. He could hear her relaying them to Yousef, who replied softly. Jerry could see Yousef’s right hand resting on his pistol.

How long would the SEALs stay like this? Motionless. Exposed. What were they waiting for?

“More movement. A second man just joined the first.” Jerry thought he saw them now, or imagined that he saw their location. And he understood. Ramey was waiting for whoever else was on the far side of the rise.

“I see a rifle barrel, now two.” Not civilians, then. Jerry’s urge to find cover was almost uncontrollable. Whoever was up there had clear shots at all of them. Did they have night-vision gear?

Phillips’s latest report seemed to make up Ramey’s mind. “Harry, shift to Philly’s targets. Philly, cover to the left. Pointy, cover the right.”

As the sniper, Fazel’s scope was more powerful, and his SCAR Heavy rifle had a longer barrel and a bigger round for better accuracy and greater range. The ground also rose on the left side of the construction road, which gave him more height. His reply came in seconds. “I have them. Two men prone, one with binoculars. Confirm rifles. It’s not a great angle, but I have a shot on both.”

“Understood. Wait.”

Jerry wished Ramey had given him a target. It wasn’t that he felt left out, but with nothing to concentrate on, his mind raced. Without moving, he tried to look for cover. There was precious little, just shallow depressions that didn’t offer protection from above. If the men on the crest started shooting, where would he go? What about Yousef and Shirin? He was sure that Yousef would shield his wife and unborn child with his body.

“Movement on the right.” Lapointe’s report was so quick, Jerry almost missed it, but this time he could see what Lapointe was warning them about. A shape appeared on the right of the crest’s slope, near the ground. Ramey’s instruction came immediately. “Wait. Hold. XO, do not fire. Tell our friends to stay still.”

As Shirin translated the lieutenant’s order, a second shape that could only be a man running came into the open and dove down behind a fold in the ground. After a moment the first shape left its hiding place and sprinted, falling behind a piece of low brush.

“I see them,” Ramey said, almost casually. “Wait.”

Yousef weighed their chances. They and the Americans were exposed, and if the others had indeed put two men on the hill, then Shirin, he, and the Americans were in a lethal crossfire. He didn’t think much of their chances.

It was five against four, but the Americans’ senior officer was inexperienced. The others had cover, and were on guard. They were still, what? Forty, fifty meters away? When the SEALs opened fire, the others would reply. There would be a gun battle. He and Shirin were not directly in the line of fire, but he knew how far and how wide stray rounds could go.

They would need his weapon after one or two of the Americans went down. He resolved to draw it the instant Shirin was flat on the ground. He would hold his fire until the others advanced. They would not see him until he fired, as they came into range of his pistol.

Jerry listened to his headset. Were there more coming? He was sure now that they didn’t have night-vision gear, or they’d already be shooting. Jerry wondered how close they’d have to get before they’d see him.

“Philly, keep watching your side. Harry, are you good?” asked Ramey.

“Yes for both.”

“XO, on my mark, drop flat and freeze.”

“Understood.” Jerry softly passed Ramey’s order to Shirin, who relayed it to her husband.

“XO, drop. Open fire!” Ramey commanded.

Yousef heard the American’s call. As he helped Shirin to lay flat, a flurry of single shots erupted from the Americans’ weapons. Each SEAL popped off two rounds at their respective targets, then stopped just as suddenly as they began. He saw the two men on the right fall. One fired a burst, the muzzle flash almost blindingly bright, but the shots were wild, into the air. As Yousef protected Shirin with his body, he waited for the soldiers on the crest to return fire. Instead, he heard the Americans calling to one another.

The SEALs then charged forward. In moments, they were at the fallen Iranian soldiers’s positions in the ravine and on the dune crest. In the next moment, two of the SEALs were around the rise, gone from view. The other two at the top of the rise fell prone, facing south.

Yousef waited, but there were no shots. Was that it? He’d never been in combat, and was relieved the shooting was over, but shocked at the ease with which the Americans had prevailed. No gun battle, not much return fire from the others at all, just a single random burst from one man, dying as he fell. Yousef still thought they were undisciplined, and he didn’t know if the Americans could get them out of the country, but by Allah they were good shots.

Telling Shirin to stay down, he rose to his knees and then stood, ignoring Jerry’s calls behind him. Walking quickly to the two soldiers he’d seen fall, he bent down and checked. Both were dead.

They wore Basij uniforms. One of the bodies was distressingly young, a boy still in his teens. Yousef had been ready to kill his countrymen for Shirin and the baby’s sake, but he was glad he hadn’t had to use his pistol. It was still in his hand when one of the SEALs came back around the rise.

Shirin, watching Yousef as he stood over the bodies, saw the American first, and screamed, “Don’t shoot!” as Yousef lifted his head and the SEAL leveled his weapon.

Jerry added his own voice. “It’s Yousef!” and the SEAL snapped the barrel up and clear. After pausing a moment, Lapointe reported, “All clear. It looks like it was just these four.”

Jerry stood, then helped Shirin to her feet as her husband came back, holstering his weapon. Lapointe followed him, then went over to Jerry and spoke urgently. “Sir, we needed you to keep them down and in one place. I thought one of the bad guys was getting back up.” His tone was earnest. Nodding toward Shirin, he said, “If she’d waited half a second to speak, she would have been a widow.”

Beside them, Shirin had heard Lapointe and stifled a small cry. She grabbed Yousef’s arm and pulled him close, also speaking earnestly.

“I understand, Pointy. Next time I’ll tackle him if I have to.”

“Tackling is good. Using the headset to warn us he’s moving is good, too.”

Jerry stood quietly, absorbing Lapointe’s remarks. This was the real deal, with live ammunition. His first firefight, and he hadn’t done anything, except almost let Yousef get shot.

Shirin didn’t stop talking until she’d gotten a promise from Yousef to stay right next to her from then on, especially if there was any shooting. In the darkness, she’d seen and heard little except the flashes of gunfire, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to see any more than she had.

Ramey came back a few minutes later. Ignoring the near-disastrous meeting between Lapointe and Yousef, he announced, “We’ve got transport. Let’s get out of here.”

With the others, Jerry walked around the southern edge of the dune. Fazel was searching the two bodies there and collecting their uniforms and weapons. Shirin stopped just long enough to ask him a question in Farsi. He nodded and answered, first in Farsi and then in English. “Yes, they will face Mecca.”

He handed the results of his search to Ramey, which included a set of car keys. There were two rifles, and the lieutenant offered one to Yousef, who paused for a moment before taking the weapon and slinging it over his shoulder. There were also magazine pouches, flashlights, and cell phones, which they quickly disabled.

The transport was a white panel van. “There’s room for everyone, but it’ll be crowded,” Ramey announced. We’ve got to police the area and get out of here ASAP.”

He put everyone except Shirin to work. While Phillips kept watch, the others, including Yousef, dug a grave big enough to hold the four bodies and deep enough to satisfy Fazel and Yousef. They had to pause several times as vehicles passed, but with so many digging, the work was done quickly.

The four corpses were gathered from where they fell and placed with care in the grave so that they faced southwest, toward Mecca. While three of the SEALs policed the area for spent brass and any other remnants of the fight, Fazel joined Yousef and Shirin, standing by the graveside and reciting the
Janazah Salah,
the prayer for the dead.

Half an hour after Phillips’s first warning, the van pulled back onto Highway 96, heading southeast.

~ * ~

A jeep met Rahim’s car at the first checkpoint and led it down to the beach. They had to stop when the ground became too soft and proceeded on foot down to the water’s edge.

The police lieutenant volunteered, “Fishermen spotted it this morning when they came down shortly after dawn. High tide was two hours before sunrise.” The body lay under a blanket, guarded by a pair of policemen. The police lieutenant escorting Rahim and Dahghan gestured to them, and one gingerly removed the covering.

A man’s body lay half-buried in a mudflat, facedown. He was wearing brown-patterned camouflage fatigues. It wasn’t an Iranian uniform, or from any of the Gulf countries as far as Rahim could tell. And in spite of the beard, he was sure this man was European or American.

Rahim stepped closer and examined his face. Matted black hair partially hid his features, but ugly wounds and discolored areas on his face and neck showed that he hadn’t died of natural causes. The major had seen enough injuries in his time to recognize burns. An accident? He’d also seen enough drowning victims to know he hadn’t been in the water long—two or three days, most likely.

Rahim said, “You say he washed ashore this morning. And nothing’s been touched? Nothing taken?” There could only be one right answer.