Asset Seven Page 6

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  ZAGROS MOUNTAINS, NORTH WEST IRAN

  Karim took deeper breaths as the climb began to take its toll on his legs, the weight of his tactical vest and pack adding to the exertion. He looked up at the ascent ahead, the vague impression of a track snaking its way between boulders and outcrops of rock. In the summer months it would be used by the goatherders from the villages below but it was still too early in the year to take the beasts to the higher pastures. He swapped arms as he cradled the rifle, shaking out the free arm to get the blood flowing back into it. He already missed the motorbike and gave a wistful glance behind him to the floor of the valley where the vehicle was concealed under camouflage netting among the rocks. But this had always been the plan; ride the bike as far as he could to put some distance between him and the hunters then get himself deep enough into the mountains that hot pursuit would be almost impossible.

  He stopped, shrugged his pack off and sat leaning against a rock as he took a drink from his canteen, the cool water delicious in his thirst. Looking at the valley below him, he wondered how the search for him was progressing. There was still no sign of any pursuit and he could see the dirt road that led into the valley for a good fifty kilometers. No dust plumes on the horizon to indicate they were on to him. No aircraft in the sky to suggest aerial surveillance. He pulled out his map and plotted his current position with his fingertip and calculated the distance and time to RV 1. If he travelled in a straight line, it was little more than twenty kilometers to the designated point. But these were the Zagros Mountains. And there were no straight lines. Karim knew from experience that he might just make it before nightfall if he took it at a steady pace as he couldn’t risk injury; a broken ankle or leg would end any chance of succeeding in his escape. He’d also been thinking hard about his signals at the RVs. His original plan had been to deploy the Infra-Red strobes at each designated spot, leaving no communication signature that Palang could pick up on. But the further he’d progressed on his escape, the more he’d considered the nature of the information he was carrying. The responsibility for getting that information to Vic was Karim’s, and his alone to bear. If, for some unforeseen reason, he became injured or died in the mountains, Vic would never know what information Karim was bringing out with him. So, he’d changed his mind. For the first RV at least. He would use one of the sat phones to check in at the RV and pray that the burst would be quick enough and deep enough in the mountains for the signal to be missed. It was a huge risk, but one that he felt had to be taken.

  As he replaced his canteen in his vest, Karim felt a small moment of serenity imbue him. He recognised it as the familiar feeling he experienced when alone in the high mountains. The silence, the cool air, the clarity of high-altitude sunshine, the reward of effort. He grinned as he remembered that at any moment a helicopter-load of Quds or NOHED could appear, and would find him relaxing against a rock, enjoying the sunshine on his face like a cadet on a hike. Sighing, he rose and picked up his pack and rifle, adjusting the straps of the pack for comfort, then set off walking along the small, rocky track.

  He continued to climb, feeling the burn in his legs as the inclines became steeper, the air thinner. Even though he had removed his jacket, Karim was hot, and the sweat was soaking through his shirt. But he was well aware of his capabilities, knew from experience how hard he could push himself without attracting exhaustion through dehydration. He monitored how much he was sweating, again, well aware that if he wanted to maintain his punishing pace, he would need to replenish those lost fluids. At this time of the year there was enough snow and meltwater around to keep his water bottles filled so he wasn’t concerned about running out.

  The sun burned high in the cobalt sky above Karim as he climbed, and he could feel the heat on his face. He was glad he’d remembered his UV goggles, protecting his eyes from the damaging rays. As he looked ahead, he could see where the steep slopes he was climbing met the formidable first wall of rock faces that he would encounter. Glancing at his watch, he saw he was making good progress and still anticipated making RV 1 before nightfall. A noise to his front startled him and in one smooth motion, he dropped to one knee bringing the carbine up on aim at the potential threat.

  A scruffy boy in his early teens stood in the middle of the small goat track staring back at Karim with wide eyes. He was filthy and his face dark, burned and dry from exposure to the sun. A thick, coarse shirt and woolen waistcoat over torn trousers marked him out as a herder or shepherd. Karim cursed to himself and wondered what the kid was doing up here. Keeping the gun trained on the waif, Karim barked at him.

  ‘Are you alone?’

  There was no answer, but he could see the boy was terrified, trembling legs and shaking bottom lip. Karim lowered the rifle a little and softened his tone.

  ‘Boy. Are you alone?’

  This time the boy nodded his head slowly. Karim cast a quick glance at the area where he assumed the boy had come from but saw nothing to conflict with the child’s assertion. He cursed again as he pondered his predicament. Karim knew the safest course of action would be to shoot the boy and hide the body among the rocks. By the time whatever village the boy came from realized he was missing, Karim would be in another country. The suppressor on the carbine also meant that the sound of the shot wouldn’t carry. But looking at the sorry state of the grubby child, he knew in his heart that he didn’t possess the callousness required to carry out such an act. Sighing, he stood and lowered the rifle to his side.

  ‘Where are you from boy?’

  The boy replied but stuttered over the words. Karim held up his hand.

  ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I give you my word. Where are you from and what are you doing here?’

  This time the reply was slightly more confident.

  ‘I am from Gurbuz. We lost some of the flock. I came to look for them.’

  Karim nodded. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Affan, sir.’

  Karim studied the boy for several moments before coming to a decision.

  ‘Are you hungry Affan?’

  Karim watched the boy devour the nuts and raisins he’d been given. The waif was ravenous. Had probably trekked a lot further into the hills to try and be the hero of his village. A typical boy. Periodically, when he thought Karim wasn’t watching, the boy would cast his eye over the strange man and his weapons and equipment. Karim smiled as he imagined what he must look like to a kid living in a region where very little had changed over the centuries. He knew from his work at Palang that in these remote communities it was unusual to find cell phones or even televisions and radios. He may have seen a soldier at some point, but Karim wasn’t in uniform, so the boy was probably trying to figure out what Karim was rather than who he was. Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, Karim passed his water bottle to the waif and indicated he should take a drink. The boy hesitated a moment and just stared at the metal cylinder before reaching out and snatching it from Karim. He gulped down the water, choking a little in his rush. Karim laughed.

  ‘Slow down there or you’re going to choke to death.’

  His humor was rewarded with the briefest grin, a flash of white teeth contrasting with the dark face. The boy replaced the lid on the bottle and handed it back to Karim.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I think you were very hungry and thirsty before I came along. How long have you been out here?’

  The boy looked down at his feet, the old shoes worn and falling to pieces.

  ‘This will be my second day sir. I… I became lost in the night so waited for dawn until I could find out where I was. I didn’t mean to stay away so long and that is why I brought no bread.’

  Karim nodded. ‘We all get lost from time to time but you know where you are now. Your parents will be getting very worried I think.’

  The boy shook his head. ‘I live with my uncle. My parents died when I was younger.’

  ‘Well then, your uncle will be worried.’

/>   The boy’s voice was quieter when he answered. ‘No. I think he will not be worried very much sir.’

  Karim now understood the boy’s determination to find the missing goats. He had probably been dumped upon his uncle as his only or nearest living relative. In an area like this, another mouth to feed, regardless of familial obligations, was never a welcome situation. He imagined the boy had a very tough existence; an orphan being raised by a grudging uncle who probably took his woes out on the child. Karim felt a small burst of affection for the boy’s plight as he recalled his own experiences as an orphan. He leaned over to ruffle the boy’s hair. The boy flinched and recoiled until he saw Karim’s intention was benign. Now he was closer to the boy, Karim could see the swelling and bruises around the cheek and jaw. He lowered his hand.

  ‘Well, he should be worried Affan. Someone as young as you surviving a night so deep in the mountains? You have the courage of a leopard boy. He is lucky to be able to call you his nephew.’

  The boy looked up, his eyes moist at the unexpected praise and compassion. He lowered his eyes and gave a shy smile. ‘Thank you, sir. It was very cold, and I was very hungry, but I never gave up. I never cried. I told myself that my father and mother would be proud of me and that kept me strong.’

  Karim leaned over and patted the boy’s shoulder, noting that the boy still flinched but didn’t pull away. ‘They would be very proud of you Affan. Very proud.’

  They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, munching on the nuts and raisins Karim had provided before the boy spoke again.

  ‘Who are you sir? Where have you come from?’

  Karim looked the boy in the eyes. ‘I was a soldier Affan, and a very good soldier. But I found out that the people I thought I was doing good work for were evil and doing very bad things. I am trying to stop them, but I need to get to the other side of the mountains to do that.’

  The boy listened and nodded in the direction of the valley below them. ‘Are the evil people chasing you sir?’

  ‘Not yet, but they will. Soon, I think.’

  ‘What will they do if they catch you?’

  Karim swallowed a handful of raisins before replying. ‘They will kill me Affan. They will torture me and kill me.’

  The boy met Karim’s eyes. ‘It is the way of things with evil people I am thinking.’

  ‘Yes Affan. It is the way of things.’ He watched as the boy scratched at his thatch of matted hair then shook his head as though trying to come to a decision. He gave Karim a sideways glance before speaking.

  ‘I have not told you everything, sir. I am not here looking for goats. I have run away from my uncle. He tried to… to sell me to some bad men. When I said I wouldn’t go with them, he beat me worse than ever before.’

  Karim allowed the boy some silence before responding. ‘How long have you really been out here Affan?’

  The boy met his eyes and Karim saw the pain and fear apparent.

  ‘I have made it through three nights, sir. But today I felt so weak and tired that I didn’t know where I was and was just… walking around. Then I met you.’

  Karim passed the boy some dried fruit and watched as it was practically swallowed whole. ‘Where were you trying to get to Affan?’

  The boy pointed in the direction he had been walking from. ‘There is another country to the west called Iraq. I thought I could cross the mountains and look for work there.’

  Karim shook his head. The boy couldn’t be any older than thirteen but was speaking like a much-older man.

  ‘Iraq is too far Affan. The way too dangerous.’

  The boy shook his head and Karim saw the defiance in his glare. ‘No sir. It is not too far. I just need to eat some more food and I will be strong enough to complete the journey.’

  ‘Affan, I know this country. It is too far and too difficult. You should return home, beg your uncle’s forgiveness.’

  The boy’s answer was loaded with vehemence. ‘Never. I will never beg or ask anything from such a man who shames my family name. I will die here before I would even think of returning.’

  Karim sighed. ‘Affan, if I had not found you today, you would have died. You were starving and dehydrated and eventually would have wandered off the edge of the mountain.’

  He watched as the boy lowered his gaze, a sullen mask drawing over his features. Karim shook his head. ‘You can’t stay up here. Go back, go to another village and get some work there.’

  The boy shook his head and snorted. ‘There are no other villages until Laruz, and my uncle is well-known there too. And I won’t go to the towns where the police will put me in the boy’s prison.’ He leapt quickly to his feet and as he did, his shirt and waistcoat rode up, exposing his ribs and stomach. Karim winced as he saw the thick welts that scarred the brown flesh beneath. And there were many of them. Probably from a whip or a stick. The boy walked off into the rocks and a moment later Karim heard the splashing of liquid as the he relieved himself. Affan returned several moments later and sat back down in the same place but avoided eye contact with Karim.

  Karim knew he had to get moving if he was going to have any fighting chance of making it to the RV before dark. He rummaged through his pack and pulled out some bags and tossed a couple to his silent companion. The boy looked up in surprise as Karim stood.

  ‘There’s some food for you there. Will easily last you till you get back to the valley. Go home Affan. Find a way to survive there. The mountain is no place for a boy.’

  He donned his vest and pack and picked up his rifle. The boy was looking at him with a neutral expression. Karim nodded.

  ‘It’s been nice to meet you Affan. Have a good life my friend.’

  Karim leaned into the hill and began walking. He didn’t look behind him to see if the boy was following. He didn’t think he would. The waif had already survived a couple of tough nights and would have no appetite to repeat the experience. He shook his head at the memory of the cruel welts he’d seen on the boy. His uncle was clearly a vicious brute and had probably been beating the boy since he’d been under his care. As if being an orphan in rural Northern Iran wasn’t tough enough already. Karim opened his stride as the incline flattened out and gave a quick look behind him as the track disappeared behind a rock formation. There was no sign of the boy, meaning the orphan must have made his way below the crest of the ridge towards the valley. Good. He didn’t know what kind of life the boy was going to have but at least it would be a life.

  The sun was low in the western sky and Karim stopped, dropped his pack and hauled out a jacket. The cold in the air was discernible now as the sun sank behind the peaks to his front, taking its warmth with it. Removing his goggles and checking his map, he felt a flicker of excitement as he identified that he was very close to RV 1. Grabbing his pack, he shouldered the load once more and strode along the meagre path that was getting harder to see in the dying light. He knew he had an hour of light left at best but was certain he’d be at the RV before that.

  Thoughts of the boy came to him as he negotiated his way between huge boulders and rock faces. The waif probably had no real chance, but he was a fighter. And that counted for something. He would have the lowest status in his village; an orphan whose uncle treated him little better than an animal. There would be nothing back there for him. Nothing and no-one. Another time he may have helped the boy, but this was not another time. Karim was aware he was very lucky to not have encountered the hunters yet, but he knew it was inevitable. He’d bought himself a good lead and needed to exploit that as best he could because once they were on his tail, he would be running like a hunted beast.