Run With The Brave (8 page)

“Do not speak for me, Saad!” she spat, “I speak for myself.” Her dark, defiant eyes burned into the Iranian, then into Yoman.

Fiery,
Ryder thought; she looked fit, but what they intended was no job for a woman.

“My name is Afari Asgari. I am with the underground.”

“Underground?”

“MEK…”

“People's Mujahedin of Iran,” Saad cut in, “enemies of our corrupt state.”

She threw him a sharp glance then raised her head defiantly. “I fight and shoot as well as any man. Give me your pistol.” She thrust her hand out to the Israeli.

Yoman hesitated, stared at her for a few moments then turned away throwing a surprised glance at the others, as if looking for their agreement, then slowly withdrew the pistol from his belt and handed it over.

In the growing light an eagle glided on the thermals above and gave a sorrowful high-pitched screech.

She expertly checked over the Russian Makarov then told Saad to set a small stone on the edge of the hollow some ten yards away.

Ryder gripped the butt of his pistol, taking no chances.

When Saad finished she waited for him to return, released the safety-catch and then let loose, hitting the stone with a single shot.

Ryder raised his eyebrows;
impressive
but she looked as if she had not the stamina to trek all those miles south.

Yoman echoed Ryder's thoughts, “Very good; you can handle a gun. However, where we're going is many miles away. It'll be a gruelling, dangerous and punishing journey. We're attempting it with little firepower and no preparation to speak of.” He paused as if weighing his words. “You do not look strong enough to undertake such a mission. You will slow us down.”

For a moment, Ryder thought she was going to strike the Israeli. Instead, she put hands on hips and looked daggers, then in a cold, clear voice, full of venom, replied in almost perfect English, “How dare you speak like that to me; you have no right. My life has been dedicated to overthrowing this malignant regime since their thugs killed my parents.” She paused to control her emotions. “How the fuck you think I have managed since they left my life? How the fuck you think I survived?” She glared at the other Iranians. “We've had to survive in these mountains more times than I care to remember, mostly eluding government forces. To be fit and capable of handling all kinds of weapons is paramount. I have suffered more abuse and danger than you'll ever know. If you think a long journey fraught with uncertainty is beyond me then think again,
Captain
.” She paused then in a calmer tone, “I will not slow you down. I want as much revenge as I can get and if that means more danger and hardship wherever you're intending to go, so be it, خدا به ما راهنمای.”

‘God will guide us'. Seemed appropriate to Ryder.
We'll need all the bloody help we can get on this one – even God's.

“Oh, and one more thing,
Captain
: do not worry about me being a woman. When roughing it with men in these mountains there's no such thing as privacy. I've seen more dicks than you can count on your fingers. If for some reason any of you get a hard-on that's your problem. Just make sure you keep it to yourselves. And, by the way, I'll bury my own shit.”

Wow, one tough lady
. It reminded Ryder of an equally spunky woman he'd taken into North Korea on the last mission.

“You know these mountains?” Yoman asked, showing surprise, taking back the pistol.

She nodded, as did the other Iranians.

To Ryder, if they were telling the truth, the Israeli should take them, including the woman, despite the reservation of more mouths to feed and a larger group that would possibly be easier to track.

“How far to the south?” the captain shot, turning to the men and ignoring the woman.

“Down to the Gulf,” Fehed quickly replied.

Ryder threw a glance at Yoman and indicated to move out of earshot.

“Captain, maybe you should reconsider,” he said when they were. “It's going to be tough just surviving, let alone finding our way. They could be of use. Besides, if we find that base you're looking for we'll need all the firepower we can get. The woman handled the gun like a pro.”

Yoman thought for several moments then nodded in agreement.

Both returned to the group.

“It's decided,” said Yoman. “Those who want to tag along can, including you,” he shot a glance at Afari.

“In what direction?” asked Saad.

“South to the Gulf.”

“South!” exclaimed Tariq. “Why? You risk greater capture. You will pass through densely populated areas.”

“Going south will be the last thing pursuers will expect us to do,” said Yoman, a little impatiently. “We have to move right away; that gunshot could bring others. Now, who wants in?”

Afari showed her relief and immediately agreed. Then, one by one, the others did too.

Without wasting any more time the group quickly dismantled the shelter and smoothed the ground the best they could to hide their presence. They then followed Captain Yoman out of the hollow and up the slope southwards into the mountain wilderness of high peaks, tree-lined rolling hills and pastureland which ran for a 1,000 miles down to the Arabian Sea. Ryder, in the rear, wondered where all this would finally lead, and what the hell he had let himself in for, not daring to think he might never come out of this crazy venture alive.

A dense haze floated into the surrounding valleys as the column moved silently over the tree-covered terrain keeping to a gruelling pace. By midday the party had made almost fifteen miles across the foothills of the massive range. The slopes had now become steeper but the ground levelled off for long stretches in a series of gentle sloping plateaus, low ridges and shallow valleys. The trees had thinned enough to see well ahead, and large clearings were cautiously skirted to avoid detection from the air and exposure to the wind.

It was during one of these flanking movements that Captain Yoman, leading, suddenly stopped and raised an arm.

Ryder ran to his side.

“What is it?”

“Listen!”

They all strained ears, and then heard it too.

“Plane; take cover!” Ryder cried.

All scrambled for the nearest dense scrub.

Saad stumbled and sprawled in the snow.

Ryder grabbed him by the collar and smartly dragged the Iranian under a bush just as a light, single-engine aircraft came into view from the west and flew low over the clearing some 200 yards in front of where they hid to disappear as quickly as it came behind trees to the east.

None of them moved, until they could no longer hear the aircraft's engines.

“That was close, real close,” said Brady, brushing himself down. “Think he saw us?”

“Doubt it,” Ryder replied. “Not returned, so I guess we're okay.”

“Maybe it has IRI,” said Yoman, looking a little shaky, eyeing him intently.

“Again I doubt it. Heat-imaging equipment in a small plane like that seems unlikely.”

“Should we continue south?” asked Fehed.

“It's our best chance, keeping to these foothills; scrub and trees will give good cover,” said Qatak, staring hard at the Israeli captain.

“Where are we now?” Ryder asked, feeling anxious at being so exposed.

“Zanjan province,” replied Saad. “Hamadan is not far, directly south.”

“Densely populated area right down to the next major city of Esfhan,” added Fehed.

“How far?” asked Yoman.

The Iranian shrugged, “Thirty, forty miles to Hamadan – 200 to Esfhan.”

“We have to give both a wide berth,” said Ryder.

“I agree,” replied Yoman, turning to Saad. “You, what's the best way?”

“South-west into Kordestan for maybe fifty, sixty miles then turn south through the more remote regions.”

“That would take us close to the Iraq border,” said Ryder. “We could encounter troops, or worse, al-Islam.”

“Don't see we have much choice,” said Yoman. “Now that we could've been spotted, we must avoid populated areas at all costs.” He looked firmly at Ryder. “Okay, move out.”

Not long after leaving cover, Yoman sent his two men ahead to search for food with instructions to shoot only when certain of a kill. It was a risk that had to be taken; there was no other way of killing on the move, and without nourishment they would all die anyway in the severe conditions.

That afternoon the clouds came and more light snow began to fall. Wet, miserable, but relieved tracks would be covered, the column strung out in line, trudged relentlessly over the windswept hills, bodies willing themselves forward, aching from the exertion. Ryder was surprised the woman kept up without complaint.

The hunters returned just before dusk with two hares and a polecat. They made a camp sheltered in a depression, and over a quickly prepared fire cooked the hares and smoke-dried the polecat for ‘jerky'. After eating, mostly in silence, deep in their own thoughts, the exhausted group smoked the last of the cigarettes, except Ryder; although more than tempted, he forced himself not to give in. The watch was agreed and finally, with Ryder and Brady taking the first, they all turned in totally spent.

As the first rays of light percolated through the trees at dawn the next day the camp was cleared and they continued south-west. Cold, miserable and hungry, Ryder struggled against an icy wind over gently sloping plateaus and across shallow valleys. Yoman led, together with Fehed as guide, with the rest bringing up the rear.

Three hours into the morning the sound of baying dogs suddenly came on the wind. Ryder and the others instantly scattered, gained cover in surrounding bush and pointed weapons firmly in the direction of the oncoming sounds.

The baying dogs came closer.

Shortly a small deer burst through the undergrowth, followed frantically by four long-legged, shaggy brown dogs, weaving in and out of the trees in hot pursuit. The deer was exhausted. Twenty yards in front of the hidden men, the animal turned and faced the dogs in a last desperate stand.

All watched the small hind ward off each dog, until finally it was brought to its knees by the persistency and ferocity of its attackers.

A shrill whistle and the dogs immediately backed away, circling their prey.

Attention focused towards the trees; Yoman signalling everyone to remain quiet and hidden.

Soon two men came into view running towards the dogs with rifles and backpacks, wearing long coats and fur hats with bandoliers crossing their chests. Reaching the deer, they shot it immediately.

Ryder looked across at Yoman; they needed that animal desperately. Signalling to the captain he was going to break cover, the Israeli nodded agreement and both men emerged from hiding to face the hunters.

The two men jumped back, startled at the sudden presence.

One of the dogs sprang at Ryder. He swung at it with the butt of his rifle and sent it flying, yelping in pain. The other dogs slunk quietly to the feet of their masters.

Yoman motioned the two men to drop weapons which they hurriedly did, fear showing on weather-beaten faces.

“Sergeant, get those rifles!” he shouted at Shiron, not taking his eyes off the hunters. He asked who they were in Farsi, but received only blank stares.

Sicano then asked the same question in Kurdish. They understood and quickly told the American they were Luri tribesmen. Ryder was surprised the American spoke Kurdish fluently.

The Israeli captain glanced at Sicano. “Tell them we want the deer.”

He did and the cowering hunters eagerly agreed.

“Search the bags,” snapped Yoman, “Take everything useful… and, Corporal, check those rifles.”

Hellmann took one of the rifles, expertly slammed open the breech. “Russian made. Good hunting rifle,” he said.

“Take them and the ammo belts,” the captain ordered.

Hellmann obliged, giving one rifle and belt to Shiron and keeping the other for himself.

“Tell them to cut up the deer and put it in backpacks,” said Yoman sharply to Sicano. “Make sure none is wasted, and don't take your eyes off them doing it.” He turned to the Iranians. “You four, help,” he pointed to the men. Then at Afari. “You included.”

After the meat had been cut and packed, Yoman, levelling his rifle at the two men, ordered the rest to move out. Ryder knew then the Israeli intended to kill the hunters but understood; the two had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and to let them go would be a mistake.

The tribesmen glanced nervously at each other as the dogs jumped and barked at their feet.

Fifty yards on, all heard a short burst of gun fire and yelps confirming the fate of both hunters and their dogs. The captain soon rejoined the group and handed the Luris' long coats and fur hats to the other two Israelis.

Heading south had fooled the Iranians, Ryder thought; the longer that remained the better. The wind had dropped considerably and only light, wispy snow now fell in the open gaps between the thin stands of trees. The column, with Yoman in the lead and Ryder bringing up the rear, moved with reasonable ease through the tussock and shrub thinly layered with patchy, powdered snow. As the afternoon wore on the terrain became less hilly and began to slope downwards in a series of plateaus, ending in a broad, undulating plain with the white peaks of the Zagros, tinged in gold, rising high to the left in the distance. Mature trees became less numerous and eventually gave way to sprawling scrub, increasing in density as the ground levelled off. It was here, beyond a thick belt of high, swaying reeds, that the group came to its first major obstacle: a broad, fast-flowing river.

Yoman decided to follow it in the hope of finding a fording point but, after tramping several miles along the marshy bank without so much as a sign of shallow water, gave up and decided to attempt a crossing. Without rope or axes, it was impossible to form a sturdy raft to carry the group across the 100-yard-wide flow, but by using strands of reed as twine to form a lighter raft of larger reeds, sufficient at least to keep clothes and weapons dry, they could hang on and manoeuvre themselves to the other side. Luckily all could swim, and they began building a raft from the surrounding reeds.

One hour later the raft was completed. Afari insisted she would help in the water and began to remove her clothes.

Ryder stopped her and looked at Yoman. “We'll need to somehow keep the equipment on the raft should it get rough; she could hold it down. The additional weight will keep it more stable.”

The captain thought about it, then agreed.

Not caring about their nakedness but shivering violently, the eleven men bundled clothes and belongings onto the raft with Afari on top. Lifting the 6-foot square of reeds they ran through the mud to the water's edge. Wading into the quickly deepening water, Ryder was almost paralysed by the bitter cold as the brown, murky liquid slid past his waist, chest and shoulders. Lunging forward on command, he kicked out with the rest, committed now for the opposite bank. The intention: ride the current, but at the same time, guide the raft and hope to land not too far downstream. He worried the longer they remained in the icy water, the less chance they had of surviving. The current proved deceptively strong, whisking the raft out into midstream. Kicking, pushing, pulling, the men slowly but surely manoeuvred towards the opposite bank, the strong, swirling water continuously threatening to suck them under.

During a particularly sharp spin, Qatak suddenly cried out. Ryder, the nearest, turned in time to see the Iranian's head disappear beneath the swirling waters. He lunged out, caught the man's flaying forearm and felt it snap as he disappeared again beneath the surface. Seconds later the Iranian broke the surface screaming. Ryder could not change arms without releasing his own grip on the raft; to let go would have proved fatal for both.

Moments later, Hellmann grabbed Qatak by his good arm and drew him closer to the raft. Ryder, releasing his grip, struggled to keep the now almost unconscious Iranian's head above water until he had revived sufficiently to manage himself. Desperately, Ryder fought to overcome the pull of the current, cursing and gasping as strength slowly ebbed away; body so numb, the cold no longer seemed to matter.

Spun and buffeted continuously, the raft gradually made headway across the surging river until finally it reached the other side. Feeling firm ground beneath his feet and relieved at making it to safety, Ryder helped drag the waterlogged raft up over the mud and into the reeds. Shaking from the bitter cold he and the others searched frantically for anything that would burn whilst Afari made Qatak as comfortable as she could, cleared a space for a fire, and soon had twigs, branches and dry reeds ablaze.

They hung damp clothes on the reeds enclosing the rapidly burning scrub and huddled inside as close as they could to the flames. The fire roared and Ryder basked naked in its warmth, unconcerned by the presence of Afari who busied herself gathering and checking the equipment from the raft. When the clothes had fully dried they all quickly dressed, doused the flames, gathered belongings and moved out, leaving the clearing as free of their presence as possible.

They trudged through the night. Come dawn, before them lay gently undulating, patchy snow-covered steppes sparsely populated by saplings and bush. Ryder could see Qatak was in considerable pain, his forearm connected to the upper arm only by muscle and sinew with the elbow joint almost completely split apart. Afari had tried to reset the grotesquely twisted limb, but the nerves and sinews were stretched and torn to such an extent all she could do was bind the arm tightly against the Iranian's chest, and hope for the best.

Beyond the river the landscape became much flatter and less gruelling in nature. Ryder moved easily, almost abreast of the others, across the open ground until they were about ten miles south-east of the river and less than 100 yards from tree-lined rising ground ahead. Suddenly, he heard the familiar sound of an approaching aircraft and froze. The others looked at one another in sheer panic and, without a word, began to run frantically with Ryder for the dark line of the trees. One minute later, a single-engine aircraft flew out of an overcast western sky and swooped low over the desperate, stumbling group. It banked sharply and flew mockingly over them once more, so close they could almost hear the whirr of the cameras, before disappearing westward as Ryder and the rest flung themselves into the belt of trees, breathless and cursing.

Fuck! This time, no escape!

“Shit! Shit! They've seen us, for chrissake!” Brady shouted.

“Motherfucker's so low he just had to see us!” cried Kellar.

Sicano emerged from cover along with the others and shook off the snow. “He saw us for sure!”

“Maybe,” replied Yoman, brushing himself down too.

“How the hell did he get so close?” asked Brady.

“Hugging the ground,” answered Ryder. “Definitely know where we are now; troops probably already on the way.”

“We can't hang around to find out – move!” shot Yoman.

They left the protection of the thicket and headed as fast as they could towards the next clump of trees, half a mile away. They moved in column now, with Yoman at the head to reduce the number of tracks, keeping a steady pace despite the cramps that began to plague both Saad and Tariq. Travelling in this manner, from one thicket to another, for a further eight miles was covered without mishap; snow thankfully falling, obliterating their line of direction.