Asset Seven Page 5

  6

  DANKASH, NORTH WEST IRAN

  Colonel Hashemi chewed on a fingernail as he stared around the ransacked apartment, blinking rapidly as he attempted to identify a way in which he could be blameless in this situation. The traitor Ardavan’s escape route had just been identified and a team was next door interrogating the old widow about her role in the affair. She was proclaiming her innocence, of course, but how could she not have known? No; they were in it together. The surveillance team had been arrested and were also undergoing questioning but he’d already given the order to execute the entire night shift for gross negligence of their duties. While he was satisfied that the punishment befitted their crime, Hashemi hoped that the punitive measure would buy him some goodwill from his superiors in Tehran. He closed his eyes as he imagined what their response was going to be when he attended the formal hearing. Probably the same as General Shir-Del’s had been when he’d learned that they had Ardavan under surveillance for over twenty-four hours: And you still let him escape?

  The General had, at first, refused to believe it was possible that one of his precious Palang instructors could be an American spy but when confronted with the evidence knew that there could be no doubt. Ardavan’s search history on the internal database and unexplained electronic transmissions that coincided with him being in the remote areas these were sent from, more than enough to convince the General of his guilt. And even if there had been doubts, the fact that Ardavan was running and a short-burst transmission from a satellite telephone had been identified at the same time, these facts spoke for themselves of the man’s guilt. The General had accompanied the VAJA men to Ardavan’s apartment and whistled when he was shown the clever escape route. He had been less impressed when informed of the death of a senior VAJA surveillance officer, his body found just after sunrise under some bushes in the rear quadrangle of the apartment block. Hashemi had noticed anger and determination in the older man’s glare and knew that the General was now taking this personally. His attitude had changed immediately and he began barking requests for maps and last known locations of the Sat-phone signal and potential escape routes that Ardavan might take. This prompted a renewed flurry of activity as the General and Hashemi’s men began the deployment of roadblocks and checkpoints on every road and track that the traitor might use.

  Hashemi did not know the area as well as the General and was grateful for the assistance. But he had to be careful that the operation remained in his hands, give Tehran every possible reason to allow him to remain in charge of hunting down the traitor. And every possible chance of staying alive. Some raised voices broke him from his panicked thoughts and he looked up as the General slapped the kitchen table where several maps were unrolled.

  ‘You have already told me where the signal put him. My question, once again, is why was he heading in that direction? He knows we will put roadblocks out. He knows we will reinforce the checkpoints. He knows we’ll eventually put up drones to widen the search. So, my point again; why would a man who knows all this run straight into it?’

  There was silence as the General concluded his rant. Hashemi stepped closer to the table.

  ‘Perhaps, General, he panicked. Somehow identified our surveillance and ran before his extraction could be planned.’

  The General glared at him, the ice-blue eyes causing Hashemi to recoil slightly at the intense anger behind them. He stabbed his finger in the direction of the bedroom behind them.

  ‘He evaded a team of surveillance officers who were watching his every move. That is not a panicking individual. That is a professional deploying on a planned exfiltration. He knows what he’s doing and none of his actions are accidental, there’s a reason for everything he is doing. So, once again; why is he running into our trap?’

  There was a moment’s silence as the men in the room contemplated the question. The General gave a deep sigh and leaned over the table, pointing at the map.

  ‘The last visual sighting of Ardavan is here in his apartment last night. The next possible location we have him is here, by the river where the satellite telephone signal was intercepted. That’s if it was him. I believe it was but we can’t be completely certain. But let’s say it was Ardavan. How did he get there? What car is he driving? Why don’t we know this? Someone must have seen or at least heard a car starting up in the early hours of the morning.’

  Hashemi shook his head. ‘No. We’ve asked and asked again. Nobody saw or heard any vehicles in the timeframe when Ardavan could have left.’

  The General straightened and looked Hashemi in the eye. ‘Okay, so how did he get to the river where he made the call? Did he rendezvous with someone outside the village and get picked up?’

  ‘We’re investigating that possibility now General, but…’ Hashemi paused as the ringing of his phone interrupted him. He answered, muttered several monosyllabic responses then terminated the call, meeting the General’s gaze once again. ‘That’s the second search team. They’ve found something interesting in the derelict chemical factory just outside of town.’

  Zana put his sunglasses on as he stepped out of the shade of the old factory. He was silent as he looked at the area around him. It was clear that Ardavan had stored his exfiltration kit here for a reason. The technicians identified several traces of tyre tracks throughout the building and assessed that they had come from a motorcycle. This puzzled Zana even further. Why would Ardavan want to escape on a motorcycle? It would stand out so much more than a car and as he could have easily sourced a car for himself, there was a specific reason that Ardavan had chosen a motorcycle. The General sighed and lowered his head as the thought of Ardavan’s betrayal struck him again. He’d liked Ardavan. Saw something of himself as a younger man in the Major. They’d bonded over their shared love of the mountains, their respect for the high places where fitness and courage were attributes that kept you alive. Zana still struggled to believe that he’d got it so wrong, that he hadn’t suspected let alone seen through Ardavan’s ruse. He turned his head at the sound of footsteps behind him and saw Colonel Hashemi approaching. The VAJA officer was quiet for a moment before speaking.

  ‘What’s your thoughts General?’

  Zana shook his head. ‘It’s the motorcycle, Hashemi. I just can’t figure out why he chose the motorcycle.’

  ‘Speed? Trying to get some distance before the roadblocks and checkpoints kick in?’

  ‘No. If that was the case, we would have heard back from whatever checkpoints he’d gone through. Which begs the next question; where has he gone that he hasn’t passed through a single checkpoint?’

  ‘Maybe he has. Maybe that’s what the motorcycle was for: He gets off it and wheels it around the checkpoint.’

  Zana shook his head. ‘No. If he just wanted distance, he would have stolen a car and used his official ID to get through the checkpoints. No, the motorcycle is important. If we figure out the why, I think it will lead us to the where. Where Ardavan is headed.’

  ‘Yes, I can see the logic in that, but, like you General, I just have no idea why.’

  Zana was quiet as he focused his mind on the problem. Ardavan would be trying to leave the country the quickest way he could. That would be by air but could only be achieved if he had access to a private aircraft or was traveling under a false identity. They had grounded all the flights due to leave the country earlier that day and Ardavan was definitely not among the passengers and no-one had been missing from the manifests. There were also no reports from the Air Force relating to any suspicious flights or unidentified aircraft. Zana sighed as he wrestled with the motorcycle question. He thought back again to Ardavan and when the Major had first arrived at Camp Palang. An obvious strong work ethic, significant operational experience and a willingness to provide the benefit of that experience to the newer trainees. Ardavan had thrived on the role of reconnaissance, spending days in the high passes, selecting appropriate areas for the students’ final exercise…

  Zana snapped his head back and turne
d to look at the mountain ranges in the distance. No. That’s impossible. Or was it? He turned to Colonel Hashemi. ‘I think I may just have worked out where Major Ardavan is going.’

  Hashemi raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Really? Where?’

  Zana pointed to the dark peaks in the distance. ‘There.’

  In the Planning Room at Camp Palang, General Shir-Del compared a list of coordinates with locations on the map. Colonel Hashemi and the other VAJA officers watched in silence as the frown on the General’s face became more pronounced. Eventually, the General looked up and beckoned the men closer.

  ‘Look; I’ve put an overlay on the map with Ardavan’s route he was supposed to have taken when conducting the exercise reconnaissance. Now, our operational safeguards required Ardavan to call in every three hours on a satellite phone just to let us know he was alive and uninjured. I asked for the geolocations of the calls Ardavan made during those excursions and, as you can see here, he was calling from an entirely different area.’

  There was quiet in the room as the officers digested the information. Hashemi pointed to the geolocation overlay.

  ‘What do you think he was doing there? Meeting his contact? Passing intelligence?’

  The General shook his head. ‘No. I think he was checking an extraction route. Look at the air photography of the region. Can you see that faint line there?’ He waited until the men had leaned in and studied the spot. ‘That looks like a track or a path. It disappears from time to time but if you’re patient, you can find it again as it winds its way through the mountains.’

  Hashemi traced the meandering faint line with his finger. ‘I believe you’re right General. This looks like a herders’ track or an old trading route.’

  Zana straightened and looked at the Colonel from VAJA. In truth, he wasn’t as bad as Zana had expected; the VAJA officer seemed happy to listen to other people’s input and defer to subject matter experts. As he watched, the VAJA man pulled out his telephone and began dialling. Zana threw him a questioning look.

  Hashemi raised the phone to his face and met the General’s eyes. ‘I’m calling Tehran and asking for men to be sent to begin the search for Ardavan.’ He raised his eyebrows in surprise as the General reached out and took the phone from his unresisting hands and terminated the call.

  ‘We don’t need paper-pushers from Tehran. We’ve got all the men we need here. In fact, we’ve got the best trained men for the job right here.’ Seeing the VAJA officers’ look of puzzlement, Zana pointed to the door. ‘Beyond that door are twenty-five of the best trained members of the Quds force who have been training and trekking in these mountains for months now. No-one knows the terrain better than them and no one knows how to hunt down a traitor better than them. Their Final Exercise was due to take place in the very mountains that Ardavan has chosen to use as his escape route. This pursuit of Ardavan will be the students’ Final Exercise. The most realistic exercise they will ever take part in:

  The hunt for an American spy.’

  7

  CAMP ANGELO, NORTHERN IRAQ

  Vic closed the lid on the last box of weapons and laid his clipboard down on the bench beside the stack of boxes and valises that contained the sanitised weapons and ammunition for the GREEN team. They couldn’t risk losing any US issued weapons or equipment if they had to cross into Iran so the Delta guys would swap out all their standard weapons and kit for the commercially sourced replacements. It was common enough practice on these missions and both Agency and GREEN were comfortable with the procedure. The GREEN guys would just require a few hours to zero the new weapons and configure the systems to their personal preferences. Again, common practice.

  Vic walked over to the window and saw the Camp Commander, Major Faisal, talking to another Iraqi commando. Vic had worked with Faisal before and he was a decent enough guy with a lot of operational experience behind him. But Vic only needed the use of Faisal’s camp as a staging area for his Op, so on this occasion Faisal and his men’s support amounted to little more than security and administrative duties. Vic had sweetened the deal with a thick envelope of cash for the young Special Forces’ Major and had been given the Major’s word that everything would be done to support the American mission. A loose cover story involving searching for ISIS fighters hiding out in the mountains had been disseminated to the Iraqi Ministry of Defence and the camps and FOBs in the region to explain the presence and activities of the Americans over the coming days and nights.

  Air support assets had been briefed and would arrive within the hour, the pilots and crews from the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment, the Night Stalkers, all veterans of sensitive and special operations. Vic turned his attention to his secure phone and nodded as he saw the approvals for his requests had been sanctioned. Bill had been as good as his word; now it was up to Vic to stay true to his own promise that it wouldn’t end up as a goat-fuck. But he’d been here before; this wasn’t his first extraction getting an asset out of a hostile country. And the Delta guys from GREEN had some experience in this also, so although not taking anything for granted, Vic was quietly confident that as long as Seven stuck to the plan they had a good chance of success. The sound of rotors drew his attention and he stowed his phone and made his way out of the prep room to go and meet the Delta Operators.

  Vic closed his small notebook and looked up at the men seated around the screen where the aerial mapping and photography was being displayed through a projector. ‘So, that about wraps up where we are. Any questions?’

  The room was quiet for a moment before Ned spoke up. ‘Not from me. Pretty standard so far; get out to the field staging area and wait for the Asset to trip the RV markers then fly him the fuck out of there. That seem about the size of it?’

  Vic nodded. ‘In a nutshell, yes. Once he trips RV 2, we will forward mount to our staging area and monitor his progress. If he’s clear, we let him run and scoop him up at the Final RV. If he’s coming out hot, we’ll assess on the ground and determine what type of support we give. Basic ground rules on this are if we can avoid going into Iran we will, but we have permissions to cover the action if required. Ned, I’ve forwarded you a copy of those for your command.’

  Ned nodded, quietly pleased that Vic had thought to supply him with the permissions; the legal signoffs, for the operation. A lot of Agency guys wouldn’t bother, tell the Delta Team Leaders that they were good, everything had been cleared. The more experienced guys like Ned would usually demand a soft copy of the permissions before doing anything but some of the newer guys could be seduced by the prestige of working for the Agency. And that’s how people got into trouble. It wasn’t unknown for shit to go really wrong on the ground and at the subsequent wash-up, have the Agency guy deny asking the Delta teams to carry out the actions they had. But at least on this one, they were working with a good guy who did things right. Ned pointed to an area on the map. ‘What’s the comms like here? Anybody know?’

  Vic shook his head. ‘We have to be super-careful with comms signatures in the area. One of the things Seven did get to me was that there is a sensitive platform operating in the region dedicated to identifying and locating any and all comms activity. So, we should be okay with our system because as far as we know they still can’t detect that but we won’t be carrying any other means to avoid the risk of exposure. You good with that?’

  Ned looked over his shoulder and was given a thumbs-up from Dwight, his comms guy. He’d figured as much anyway, no real requirement on this Op for different comms platforms. He turned his attention back to Vic. ‘That it?’

  Vic nodded. ‘That’s it. Wheels-up at zero two-hundred so if you want to brief the rest, we’ll finish up and get on the birds.’

  Ned stood and turned to face his Team and the pilots and crew from the Night Stalkers. He gave a comprehensive brief on the load plan for the insertion and the actions that they would take on reaching their objective. He covered several eventualities unique to the Op but was happy that the remainder were
SOPs; Standard Operational Procedures familiar to every man in the room. When he finished, he asked if there were any questions and was greeted with none. Looking at his watch he saw that they had half an hour until departure. ‘Okay guys let’s synchronise watches. On my mark, in thirty seconds it will be zero one-thirty… and five, four three, two, one, mark.’ The team adjusted their watches and stood, stretching and yawning as Ned smiled. ‘You’re getting old guys; anyone would think you’ve been at war or something! Okay, let’s get our shit together, get packed and loaded up and on the pan for oh-one fifty for final check.’

  As the Team made their way to collect their gear, the Night Stalkers element headed out to prepare the helicopters. Vic donned his tactical vest, the pouches bulging with ammunition, grenades, strobes and a radio. He then shouldered a large backpack before picking up his helmet, assault rifle and pistol, stowing the latter in a thigh-holster. Ned caught his eye and grinned.

  ‘Hell, Agency man. You look like you might actually know what you’re doing!’

  Vic returned the grin. ‘Don’t be fooled Master Sergeant; I was always winning prizes for costume parties in our neighborhood!’

  Ned laughed and patted Vic on the shoulder. ‘Good to be working with you again Vic.’

  Vic nodded. ‘You too Ned. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?’

  Both men walked out of the room, Vic taking the stairs and Ned towards the preparation room. When the Delta Master Sergeant reached his belongings, he threw on his thick jacket before donning his tactical vest and backpack. Like the rest of his team, he was dressed in comfortable outdoor gear, no uniform or military insignia on their persons. He checked his weapons, ran a hand over his pouches to make sure they were closed then, carrying his helmet in his hand, made his way out of the room and down the stairs. He heard the whine as the Night Stalkers started the engines and immediately smelled the familiar tang of aviation fuel on the cool night air. He walked over to his Team and stood close to them, making his way along the group and looking each man in the eye, waiting for their nod to show they were ready. When he reached Vic, the CIA officer followed the same procedure to show he was also good and Vic made his way over to the crew member standing by the door of the first Black Hawk and gave the man the signal that the Team was ready. The rotors on the helicopters began to turn and Ned walked back to his guys and joined them as they split into their predesignated sections for the journey. After a couple of minutes, the crew member stepped back outside the aircraft and waved his chem-light stick, giving the signal to embark. The soldiers walked forward and boarded the helicopters with Ned acting as last man, making sure everyone was loaded before he entered the helicopter. Climbing in, he pushed his backpack into the centre of the space where the other team members had placed theirs. The crew member secured the packs with a cargo net and strapped them down as Ned took his seat and pulled on the headphones, checking comms with the pilot. The crew member slid the door shut, dulling the sound of the rotor blades somewhat. In the dim, green glow from the internal lighting, Vic saw his guys leaning back into their seats, eyes closed and taking the opportunity to rest for a while. They were tired; all of them having pushed out a major amount of activity in the past three weeks with very little respite. But they wouldn’t have it any other way. Soldiers who operated at this level were dangerous animals when bored, prone to making mischief in all kinds of ways guaranteed to piss people off. No, a Delta Operator was far happier when he was exhausted and grumpy than when having nothing to occupy himself with. And this little jaunt promised to be pretty mellow by the sound of it. Even if the Asset came running out hot, they would call in a little air support to cover him and scoop him up when he crossed the border. No real heavy lifting unless it went very wrong. The guys could catch some sleep as they holed up through the day waiting for the Asset to make his way through the RVs. His thoughts were interrupted by the pilot’s transmission that they were lifting off. Ned leaned back and closed his eyes as the helicopter rose above the walls of the camp then surged forward into the darkness of the Iraqi night.