The Jerusalem Creed: A Sean Wyatt Thriller (20 page)

Tehran

Mick was a stout, red-haired grunt of man. From the second Sean laid eyes on him, he knew they’d called on the right guy. Everything about the smuggler told Sean the man knew what he was doing. And Mick was a stickler for details.

From the second the three walked into the empty textile warehouse, Mick made sure they understood everything about what was about to happen. They’d wait until sunset to make the drive to the boat and board it under the cover of darkness. Crossing the border on the water would take less than an hour. When they made land, Mick’s man on the other side would take them into the city to meet their contacts at the predetermined rendezvous point.

The drive down the coast took longer than Sean would have liked but was truly the quickest route. It didn’t help that they were sitting in the back of a delivery truck. This clearly wasn’t the first time Mick had smuggled people. A small air conditioning unit was attached to the wall to vent cool air into the boxy cargo area. Without it, the temperature inside would have been unbearable.

Boxes were stacked here and there, though they hardly took up the majority of space. This was an additional run, Mick had explained in the warehouse, so he wouldn’t have a full truck. He figured if he was making the run he might as well take a few extra things along. The man was all about efficiency.

The occupants felt the truck slow and lean to the right. They were turning left. The smooth ride on the asphalt immediately turned bumpy. Though he couldn’t see outside, Sean figured they’d turned onto an access road of some kind.

Ten minutes of jostling went by before the truck finally came to a stop. The slide door on the back went up, and the scent of salty air rushed into the cargo area. The new moon shone down on the beach with just enough light for the travelers to see the small boat anchored a few hundred feet out. Two wooden dinghies were beached nearby, and one of Mick’s men was already busy getting them ready to head out to the boat.

“Go ahead, and grab a few boxes on your way to the dinghies, if you don’t mind,” Mick ordered.

None of the three complained and happily helped unload the cargo and carry it over to the dinghies. The process took less than five minutes, and soon, they were bobbing through the waves courtesy of a single outboard motor.

Arriving at the boat, they had been greeted by a toothy older man with bronze, wrinkled skin. He wore a stained yellow tunic and linen pants. He politely helped Adriana aboard while leaving Tommy and Sean to heft themselves up the small ladder on the starboard side. Mick and his rider quickly loaded the boxes aboard the larger vessel. He tied one of the dinghies to the back of the boat, and once everything was aboard, waved off his assistant. The man steered his dinghy away and guided it back to land.

“This is Aman,” Mick said, introducing the three to the boat’s captain. “He’ll be taking us across the border. He doesn’t say much, but he’s a good man and a great smuggler.”
Aman nodded, still grinning broadly.

“We appreciate your help,” Tommy said, exchanging a nod with him.

“You can have a seat up there,” Mick pointed to the front of the boat where some wooden benches jutted out from the hull. “We should be there in about fifty minutes.”

Aman stepped into the wheelhouse and started the engine. A moment later, the vessel was gliding across the calm water, headed south.

Fifteen minutes into the journey, Mick made his way to where his guests were sitting and pointed toward the dark shore. An outcropping of light illuminated the sky in the distance, and several more dotted the coast where homes and fishing compounds occupied the land.

“We’re in Iranian waters now,” he said. “Just passed the border.”

A chill went through Tommy’s spine.

For Sean, it was just another day at the office. He’d done several clandestine entries like this before although never with people he cared about on a personal level.

“Thanks, Mick,” Sean said with a nod. “We’ll be ready to make for land at your word.”

Mick nodded and went back inside the flimsy structure.

The salty air blew over Sean’s face and hair. For a minute, he was back in Destin, inhaling deeply. The next minute, he looked off the starboard bow at the Iranian coastline. Buildings were sparse in this region, which is why Mick had chosen it for their entry point. Half an hour later, Aman veered the boat toward a dark patch of land well out of sight from any man-made lights. The boat slowed to a coasting stop. It bobbed in the gentle Caspian waves as the three stood up and grabbed their few belongings.

“We need to move fast,” Mick said. “Help me get those boxes on the dinghy, and we’ll be gone.” He turned his attention to Aman. “You know the drill. If I’m not back in twenty minutes…” he trailed off, and the boat’s captain nodded.

Sean grabbed the rope and started pulling the smaller craft to starboard while the others hurriedly picked up the boxes and got them ready for transfer. Once the dinghy was tied off on the side, they placed the cargo carefully on the little vessel’s bottom. The process didn’t take long, and a few minutes later, the nose of the small craft was digging into the beach. The outline of a few palm trees stretched out against the dark backdrop of the starry night sky.

Mick pulled a flashlight out of an old gear bag and hit the switch a few times. Two headlights repeated the gesture from farther inland. It was hard to tell what kind of vehicle from their vantage point. The driver had done a good job making it invisible from the water.

Everyone grabbed the cargo one last time and hauled it across the rocky sand in the direction the lights had flashed. Once they were closer, they could see it was a moving van, similar to the delivery truck they’d ridden in earlier.

The driver had a thick, black beard and matching curly hair. He stepped down out of the cab and grabbed the box Adriana was carrying. He offered her a smile and hustled around to the rear of the truck and slid it inside. He did the same with the boxes Tommy and Sean were carrying and then ran down to the boat to get the remaining cargo.

“Only one more down there, Farjad.”

The driver nodded without turning around. They’d clearly been doing this together for a while.

Mick turned to the three. “It’s a few hours to Tehran from here.” He jumped up into the cargo hold and pulled up a false floor panel. “If you hear Farjad bang on the cab twice, you’ll need to hide in these. Security checkpoints are pretty random, but it’s possible you could go through one. They typically aren’t very thorough since the borders are so secure, but you never know. Usually, a quick glance inside is all they want.”

Sean raised an eyebrow. “And if they want more?”

“Then you never met me. I hear the key to surviving in an Iranian prison is developing a strong stomach.” He winked, showing the first sign of a sense of humor since they’d met the man.

Farjad returned a moment later with the last box and loaded it onto the truck. Mick took an envelope out of a shirt pocket and handed to him. “Good work as always, my friend. You know where to take them?”

Farjad nodded. “I know the place.” He turned to his passengers. “Don’t let him worry you. I will get you there safely. Did he say something about the checkpoints?”

Tommy nodded.

“I assure you. I can get around them easily enough.”

Tommy hoped he was right. They all did.

“Try to get some rest,” Farjad said. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“He does,” Mick added. “He’s the best at this sort of thing. That’s why I hired him.”

Sean extended his hand. “We appreciate all the help, Mick.”

The man took shook his hand firmly and grinned. “And we appreciate your business.”

The ride into Tehran was surprisingly uneventful and one of the most uncomfortable the Americans and Spaniard had ever taken. Not only was it bumpy and warm, but every time the truck stopped, the occupants in the back had to listen carefully in case Farjad gave the signal to hide. The knocks never came, though, and soon the truck was moving again.

None of the three travelers were able to rest during the journey. They were all on full alert the entire time. The minutes ticked by like weeks, and the tension in the back of the van was thick as cold molasses. And every little noise made them twitch their heads to the rear gate, waiting for it to open.

When they finally arrived in Tehran, they heard Farjad turn off the engine and close the cab door. He opened the back, and they were greeted with the city’s dry early morning air and a smile from the driver.

“See? I told you it would be no trouble. This is your stop for the night. It’s one of Mick’s safe houses.” He motioned to a nondescript one-story concrete building twenty yards away across an empty parking lot. There were two metal doors on the front and from what Sean could tell, a deadbolt above the latch. The façade of the building was about twenty feet across and looked like it was abandoned.

“You have a key for us?” Tommy asked.

“Right here,” Farjad said and placed it in Tommy’s hand. “There should be everything you need inside: a few beds, toilets, two showers. No food, but it’s a little late in the night to be eating. You’re meeting someone tomorrow, right?”

Sean nodded. “In the morning, yes.”

“Very good. I’ll have a car here for you before sunlight. It’s yours as long as you need it.”

Sean was starting to wonder how much Tommy had paid this guy. “I appreciate it, Farjad. Thanks for all your help.”

“My pleasure.” He grabbed the nylon strap attached to the sliding door and brought it down quietly. He locked the latch and ran around to the front of the truck, hopped in, and sped away.

The three took in their surroundings for a moment. Tall apartment buildings and twenty-story developments clogged the horizon. They were on the outskirts of the city. The bright lights of the Iranian capital illuminated the black sky above. The unnatural whitish hue blurred out all but the brightest stars.

“I don’t know about you two,” Tommy interrupted the silent moment, “but I need to get a few hours’ sleep.”

Tehran

The rest of the night dragged by, each second adding more anxiety than the last. The three friends tried to get a little sleep, but calming their minds proved extremely difficult. Only after extreme fatigue took over were they able to doze off for a few hours.

Sean woke first, slipped on his shoes, and floated over to the door. He’d taken a shower the night before so he wouldn’t be in a rush when it was time to go. He also thought it might help him relax. That part he was wrong about.

He took a quick glance through the peephole to make sure no one was standing outside and then opened the door. The muggy morning air washed over him, and he blinked a few times to adjust to the early sunlight.

A common misconception in the United States is that Iran is nothing but desert. The far edges of Tehran would be considered high desert, with the heart of the city sitting at around three thousand, nine hundred feet in elevation. The metropolitan area is situated at the base of the Alborz Mountain Range and experiences a drastic change in temperature and weather from summer to winter. During the latter, huge ski resorts provide steady revenue and entertainment for the region’s population. Sean had seen pictures taken during winter and wanted to make a visit to test out the local powder. Snowboarding was something of a guilty pleasure he’d not had the opportunity to partake in for more than two years. If they got out of this relic hunt alive, he might have to make it a point to come back to Tehran. Although preferably through legal channels, if possible.

Sean heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. His first instinct was to shut and lock the door, but he reminded himself that someone was supposed to be coming with a car. He wondered who the drop-off person might be, when a white, four-door Toyota pulled into the parking lot and squeaked to a stop. Sean looked through the windshield, and his curious expression changed to a broad smile as a familiar face got out of the driver’s seat.

“You’re late,” he said.

The driver shut the door and crossed his arms, pretending to be offended. “Hey, do you want a ride or not?”

The man’s bushy beard had got thicker since Sean had last seen him. His skin had darkened to a deep bronze, a result of spending weeks on end in the sunshine. His hair was scraggly and reached the tops of his ears, longer than it had ever been in the time the two knew each other. Whether it was intentional or not, the new look made for good cover in this foreign land.

“I had no idea you were the one picking us up, Mac.”

The other man beamed and stepped forward, wrapping both arms around Sean and clapping him on the back. “It’s good to see you again, my friend. Been too long.”

Mac let go and noticed Tommy stumble to the safe house doorway, looking around like a lost chicken. He’d never been able to wake quickly. “Tommy, look who’s here,” he said, still keeping his voice as low as possible.

Tommy rubbed his eyes and grinned. “There you are. I was starting to worry we’d missed you.” He rushed over and gave Mac a quick hug.

“You weren’t even starting to wake up,” Mac joked.

“And you remember Adriana,” Sean said, pointing at the Spaniard as she approached. Unlike Tommy, she appeared ready to take on the day.

“You are certainly a sight for weary eyes,” Mac said. “I trust you’re doing well.”

She nodded and bowed graciously. “Good to see you again too, Mac.”

Joe McElroy had worked for the parks service in the state of Georgia for years. He’d got bored with it and had been looking for a change. It just so happened that with Sean's retirement, Tommy’s organization needed a man like him. When Joe, whom everyone called Mac, found out about his wife’s secret past as a certified government badass, the two decided it was time for a change. They signed up immediately and never regretted a second of it. All-expenses-paid travel around the globe gave them a chance to get closer and see some things they’d always dreamed of seeing. Sure, the work was hard at times, especially when they were on a dig, but it was worth it. So far, they’d not come across too much trouble along the way, which was something Sean and Tommy seemed to always find in spades.

“Is Helen here?” Adriana asked, taking a step closer.

Joe’s eyes squinted into little narrow beads. “Who do you think your quartermaster is?”

He motioned with his hand for them to follow him.

“We might be followed to the warehouse. We need to drop Adriana at the market before we get there. I’ll pick her up on our way back through.”

Tommy hadn’t heard that part of the plan and expressed his concern. “Wait. We’re dropping her off at the market? Why? So she can get some fresh fruit or something?”

She shook her head and glared balls of fire at him.

“Funny. And no. She’s going to pick up a little surprise for our friend Al Najaar. Just in case.”

Joe interrupted. “The market is about ten minutes from here. If we drop her off, she’s going to be followed. One of those four men will probably break off and tail her.”

She passed him a warning glare. “I can handle myself, Mac.”

“Oh, I know that.” His eyes passed over the surroundings. “Just thought you should be aware.” Mac turned his attention back to the guys. “The drive from here to Susa is close to eight hours. That will put you there in the late afternoon. You should still have several hours of daylight. But if you were planning on doing any sightseeing before you initiated your search, you should probably curtail that notion.” He winked.

“That’s a shame,” Sean said. “I really wanted to take in some of the restaurants and tea houses. Maybe next time.”

“Well, we best get a move on. You’re on a tight schedule, after all.”

The group grabbed their belongings and loaded into the car. Seven minutes later, they were thrust into the early morning rush of downtown Tehran traffic. Cars moved slowly, in and out of empty spaces, in a futile attempt to get ahead. Pedestrians walked along the sidewalks in tightly packed clumps.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but it might save us all some time if you got out here and went ahead on foot,” Mac suggested, pointing at the chaos on the street. “I know a side road where we can get out of this mess and over to the warehouse. I mean, if you don’t mind. It’s only a few more blocks from here.”

She opened the door and stepped out. “I’ll meet you in an hour. Don’t worry about coming back here. I can get a ride. Just send me the address.” She closed the door and scurried away, pulling the mask up over her face to make sure she stayed incognito.

Mac glanced back into the mirror. “You don’t think I upset her, do you?”

Sean smirked. “Nope. That was her way of saying your idea was a good one. Now get us out of here. She won’t let you hear the end of it if she somehow beats us to the rendezvous point.”

Working his magic, Joe deftly dodged in and out of the seemingly endless bumper-to-bumper traffic and finally found the side street he was looking for. After nearly running over a man selling hats, they found their way out of the rush and onto a quieter, less-occupied street.

“I heard you were in Copenhagen,” Mac said to Sean as he sped up, heading away from the city’s heart.

“I heard the same about you.” 

Mac laughed. “Must have just missed you. The missus and I were there checking out some interesting Viking stuff. We had a good time. The weather there this time of year is amazing.”

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite cities in the world. I’ll have to go back sometime soon. Hopefully, I’ll be able to enjoy the visit.”

“You didn’t enjoy working with Tommy on an expedition?”

“He wasn’t working with me,” Tommy corrected. “He was helping a friend.”

Joe pursed his lips and nodded. “You tend to do a lot of that sort of thing, don’t you?”

Sean looked out the window at the passing buildings. Their architecture was like a mix between Communist 1960s and modern art deco. It was a confusing thing to behold. “I guess I do,” he said in a distant tone.

When they pulled into the warehouse parking lot twenty minutes later, they found it to be empty. The dilapidated building looked like it hadn’t housed business for several years. Rusted corrugated sliding doors hung loosely against the gray cinderblock walls. A bland metal entry door stood off to the side of the larger entrance. Joe stopped the car in front of the hangar-like doors and got out. When he opened his door, the three could still hear the sounds of the city around them. Cars and buses, motorcycles, horns, truck brakes, and construction tools all mingled into a cacophony of mayhem.

Joe pulled the sliding door to the side, revealing a vast, hollowed-out interior. He got back in and drove the car forward, parking it next to a gray van. He shut off the ignition and got out. His passengers did the same, and Sean made himself useful by offering to close the big doorway.

Once it was shut, the giant warehouse fell into shadow. Beams of sunlight pierced the dusty darkness along the eastern wall, the yellow lasers enhanced by billions of dust particles floating in the air. Rusty steel beams shot up from the dirty floor to support girders above.

The van door opened and closed. A second later, a fortysomething woman with curly auburn hair stepped around the hood. Her bright smile pierced through the shadows.

“Good to see you again, Helen.” Sean said. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight.

“Likewise, boys.” She let go of him and repeated the greeting with Tommy.

“Hi, Helen,” Tommy said as he embraced her.

She turned and opened up the side of the van. The seats had been removed to make room for cargo. In this case, the cargo was five baby bed mattresses.

She put her hands on her hips. “I understand you boys need some guns.”

“Indeed we do,” Sean said with a smile. “I’ve got to ask, though—”

“The guns are hidden in the mattresses,” she answered before he could finish.

“Actually, I was going to ask how you got the weapons here and what you were doing in the area to begin with, but that was going to be my second question.”

Joe answered for her. “We were on a dig on the border when Tommy called. Since we had a security team with us, it was easy enough to get the weapons. All we had to do was find a place to hide them. Getting in was tricky. Their borders are locked down pretty tight, especially for Americans. We had to find another way in. Took a bit of doing, but our Iranian friend was quite helpful.”

“We were able to acquire most of what you asked for. You’ll have to settle for 9-mm pistols, though. None of the guys had forties on hand. Plenty of ammo, though.” Helen finished her sentence by reaching over and pulling the top off the closest mattress. She ripped away a thin layer of cotton and revealed a row of handguns, submachine guns, and corresponding magazines.

“Nice,” Sean said, admiring their resourcefulness. “Were you able to get some knives for Adriana? You know how much she likes those.”

“Sure did,” Mac said, pulling back the cover on another mattress. Five four-inch throwing daggers were sheathed in a utility belt. A tactical knife was concealed in a longer housing at one end of the belt. There was something else included with the other blades that Tommy and Sean hadn’t expected.

“Is that a tomahawk?” Tommy asked. He took a step closer and lifted the weapon. Its black steel was perfectly balanced, the beard sharpened to a fine, lethal point. The edge of the blade was razor thin.

“Yeah, one of the guys said if she liked knives she might like to give this a try. He has a line on them from back in the States. Said a guy in Tennessee runs a company called RMJ Tactical that manufactures them for the military. Apparently, he also makes custom historical tomahawks. You know, the ones with like a peace pipe on one end and such.”

Tommy swung the weapon around in a reckless fashion. From the look on his face, he was highly intrigued by the weapon.

Sean stuck his hand out and grabbed Tommy by the wrist, halting his movements. “Why don’t we let her play with that toy? Grab yourself a few guns, and let's get ready to move. When Adriana gets back, we’ll need to leave immediately.”

Tommy looked like a child who had been punished for misbehaving, but he did as suggested and laid the weapon back in the faux mattress.

Sean turned back to Helen and Mac. “This will do nicely. Mind if we take those duffle bags?” He pointed at two black bags sitting behind the passenger seat on the floor.

“They’re yours,” Helen said. “We had a feeling you might need something to carry all this.”

He gave an appreciative nod and set to work loading the bags. He checked each weapon, making sure no rounds were chambered and to see if all of them functioned the way they should.  Sean was judicious in what he chose to bring. He knew Adriana would want a Heckler & Koch to go along with her knives, tomahawk, and pistol, but concealing the submachine gun might prove to be problematic. Sean preferred to travel a little lighter, taking a pair of handguns and a stack of fully loaded magazines. He stuffed the ammunition into a vest he felt he could conceal with a jacket, and continued stocking the bags.

“So when Adriana gets here, I guess y’all will be buzzin’ out of here, huh?” Joe was unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Pretty much, Mac. I wish we could hang out longer. When we get back to the States, we’ll look you up and grab dinner.”