Operation DOUBLEPAYBACK

by Jack Freeman

  Max paused as Azar gestured at the door. She had heard faint sounds from the locks and already had her Beretta pointing at the middle of the door.

  “Carry on justifying the unjustifiable Mr Roosevelt! How can you sit there and say that the blatantly illegal act of removing a democratically elected government was actually a good, moral and right thing to do?” Mohsan spat out, apparently not having noticed Azar’s gestures.

  “I guess we’ll never agree on this and I grant you that the Shah is not exactly a Jeffersonian democrat and the constitution is not what we’d want here. But, I think he is the man for the moment and a developing country needs firm government. Having democracy too soon in a fractured society just leads to populist demagogues who promise the earth but can’t deliver, and usually end up persecuting their minorities to buy off the majority...” replied Max while pulling his gun out and beginning to crouch down behind the desk.

  Mohsan now realised that the enemy were about to burst in and he announced that there was a technical hitch and they would now have a short break for commercials followed by some Iranian folk music. The technician at the back flicked another switch and pre-recorded commercials sounded out. Mohsan was startled when the technician also produced a side arm but immediately relieved when the man made a peace gesture and mouthed the letters C, I and A.

  Mohsan joined Max behind the desk and levelled his gun at the wooden door.

  A loud explosive sound blasted through the studio as the door lock was shot off by a heavy calibre weapon.

  “So much for RPI lock-picking tradecraft,” thought Max .

  The door was kicked open, presenting Ali and Kerman as clear targets, but targets who were firing Thompson submachine guns continuously. Azar got down on the floor and putting her gun hand just round the door got off 5 shots blind while Max and Mohsan were forced to keep under cover as the desk was disintegrated by the large calibre bullets. The under cover CIA man fell back dead just before Azar’s blind shots wounded their targets. Ali and Kerman stumbled back with leg and arm wounds respectively, temporarily unable to fire, allowing Max and Mohsan to take careful aim. Before they could fire, Ali and Kerman threw down their weapons and disappeared round the corner of the corridor.

  “Think they’re out of ammo. Let’s go get ‘em...but be careful they probably have back-up weapons on them or in a getaway car,” shouted Max., “Good shooting Azar!”

  The trio cautiously edged up the corridor following the blood trails. Each corner was carefully checked using Azar’s makeup mirror to see round each corner. The trails led out through the store room , over the loading bay, across the yard and out into the alley.

  Ali Saeed lay sprawled on the alley road, unnaturally white faced, but still conscious. His last thought before blackness and silence closed in was “Bastard Kerman made the wrong bet…”

  “Looks like Comrade Ali has bled out. But where’s the other guy?” asked Mohsan, looking down on the twisted body face down in the dirty alley, and kicking Ali to check for signs of life.

  Just then something was tossed round the corner of the building and clanged repeatedly on the hard surface as it bounced towards them.

  “Shit! A grenade!” yelled Max as he rushed towards the device. Without thinking, he scooped it up and threw it inside the studio building through the door they had just come through.

  “Get down!” he screamed.

  The grenade exploded and sent clouds of smoke and pulverised debris through the door into the yard. Max, Azar and Mohsan crawled away as far as they could from the smoking door. A moment later a black Lincoln sedan came round the corner, at speed, from behind them and into the alley. Max, Azar and Mohsan jumped up and spun round as one, pointing their Berettas at the car which did not seem to be stopping.

  “Its ok, at ease everyone. Its Jack!” shouted Max as the car braked hard and stopped only feet away.

  Jack, who had ditched his protestor’s disguise wig, lowered the window and yelled at them to get in. They then set off at speed down the alley as Jack explained the situation.

  “One down, but one got away in their rental car after lobbing a farewell grenade at you. The studio is ablaze, but the fire guys are on their way and the crowds are being dispersed. Unfortunately some of the crowd are starting to riot. They are all for firebombing Kermit Roosevelt and they think that’s what has happened. Now some local low-lifes are joining in and looting is breaking out. We never anticipated an urban riot and sure hope we can stop it before it gets out of hand. Next thing it’ll be a full blown race riot if it spreads south of here.

  Anyway, the guy we are after is called Kerman and he has just moved up the organisation in their restructuring following the Venice business. I think his career has peaked now. He was promoted way beyond his level of competence. If he doesn’t die of his wounds we’ll soon have him put away safe and sound. He’s heading down the West Sunset Boulevard at some speed toward the ocean. We’ve got an Eye in the Sky. A police chopper is following his every move and I can talk to them from this two way radio here with this earpiece and mike. Neat , huh? So it’s just a matter of time and we’ll have him, one way or another.”

  “Great stuff, Jack,” said Max, “Pity you couldn’t have stopped him getting away. How come nobody was out back?”

  “This is a shoe string op. We’ve got budget cuts. The Goddam peaceniks in Congress got their hands on our funds and thought everyone in the world loves us, so who needs national security?…so, that’s why we were a bit short staffed tonight. We couldn’t be sure the bad guys would show up after all and the bean counters wouldn’t fund the op fully on that basis. Anyway, its all lookin’ pretty good now…apart from the riots, and as long as we don’t let Comrade Kerman somehow escape. He can’t outrun us and that’s for sure. This car is souped up to the max and we’ve got a blue light to clear the way.”

  Jack opened his window and put the blue flashing light on the car roof as they sped down the Boulevard.

  “Ok…we can see him now. The light blue Packard. Avis’s finest cheap rental but no real speed compared to this baby,” said Jack, “Oh wait! There’s a big crowd just spilled over the intersection ahead. The Eye in the Sky says they are stopping supermarket trucks and looting them. Shit, The surrounding streets are also closing down due to looting. Hell, now I’m hearing that the “Power to the People” white nuts and the black power guys are out there stirring shit. Now, there’s gunshots and fires breaking out all over. You started something this time, Blue.”

  “Hey, it’s not down to me that the oppressed masses rise up. Blame the oppressors, man, not the people,” replied Max.

  “That’s all fine and dandy, but we’re gonna lose our target in this shit storm that your radical buddies are creating out there.”

  “Be cool, man. Now, I know this area. I used to hang around the Strip a lot when I was a spotty youth down here from Frisco in the vacations. This is what to do, hang next right and go through the back alleys that run parallel with Sunset..then when we get past the riot zone we re-join the main road. It’ll work, I’m sure.”

  “Let me check. Sky-Eye, are the parallel alleys with the Strip clear?. Uh huh. Yeah, helicopter says it’s a go at the moment. So, we’ll try that.”

  Jack turned off the main road and on to a side road as a few ill aimed shots from armed rioters struck nearby parked cars but went very wide of the Lincoln. He turned down the second alley. Speed was hard to keep up down the narrow alleyway and the Lincoln soon lost its glossy sheen through repeated scrapes with garbage bins. Occasional winos in doorways would curse them and send empty bottles crashing onto their rear and roof but this route did avoid the riot. The night sky to their left was bright red with occasional streaks of black smoke. Jack relayed news from the police helicopter that the riot was spreading mainly southwards towards South Central. This was bad news for the city authorities and all law abiding citizens, many of whom began to load up their station wagons and head for the hills that surround LA on three sides, w
hile others checked their home arsenals. The Eye in the sky still reported the Packard proceeding down Sunset at high speed towards the coast. Jack spun the car left down a side street and as they rejoined Sunset Boulevard he gunned the engine for maximum speed.

  “Riot has kept the road clear anyway. Decent folk are too frightened to come out now. They’re all home ready to defend their property or fleeing the other way,” said Jack.

  “The right to bear arms sure comes in handy in this situation,” added Mohsan, “I’ve got my own arsenal back in the apartment. The riot will have to spread a ways east to reach my place . Anyway lets get this guy quick so I can get back and check my property.”

  Now there were no cars between the Lincoln and Kerman’s Packard and the road was empty on both sides. As the gap closed, Max leaned out of his window and began shooting at the tyres of the Packard but without making contact. Suddenly the Packard’s brake lights came on and with an ear-splitting shriek the Packard spun round in the road as Kerman made a handbrake turn.

  “Holy shit!” yelled Jack “Take him out!” Jack stamped hard on his brakes as Max aimed at the Packard driver who seemed to be cursing the trio, if Max made out his lip movements correctly. Max put his weapon on automatic and squeezed steadily. With less than 20 feet to go before impact with the Lincoln, the Packard’s front window shattered and Kerman’s head took two direct hits. Kerman slumped over the steering wheel but the Packard kept coming straight at the Lincoln. Jack twisted his wheel violently at the last moment and the on coming car just caught the Lincoln on the driver’s side, sending each car rolling over and over in opposite directions, across the Boulevard.

  After a long two minutes the Lincoln came to a halt upright. “Shit,” muttered Max, “Is everyone ok? At least we ended the right way up. Unlike Kerman. Guess these seatbelts do work after all.”

  Max, Jack and Azar in the Lincoln were cut and bruised but otherwise not injured. On the other side of the Boulevard, the Packard was crumpled and blazing. The police helicopter had landed in the road and Highway Patrol cops surrounded the burning car with drawn guns. No more firing was needed since it was soon clear that Kerman was now a dead enemy who was being steadily cremated while Max, Jack and Azar watched long enough to be sure. The remains could not be recovered for some hours.

  “That’s a pity in some ways,” said Jack, “I had hoped to take him alive to get some intel. Maybe Ali has survived and we can get something out of him. But this Kerman character was pretty determined not to let that happen. Mohsan, guess you’re going to need another cover as your current one is truly blown by tonight’s activities. New York suit you?”

  “I guess so. Another accent to pick up! Maybe some day you can send me home to get a shot at the Shah or Savak.”

  “No can do! They’re our buddies, remember. Maybe could insert you for more anti-RPI ops is the best we could do,” replied Jack.

  “Ok. That’ll have to do,” said Mohsan.

  “Count me in on that” added Azar.

  “Well, if it’s like that, I’ll have to hitch along too! You need a straight shooter like me on these jaunts,” said Max with a crooked grin.

  A call came through for Jack on the Lincoln’s still functioning radio. He went over to the car to take it and came back to the others within minutes and said, “Just heard that Ali is in intensive care down at the Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. I have mixed feelings about this, I felt better when he seemed to be dead, but maybe it’s for the best. Maybe he’ll talk and give us something useful.”

  “Yeah, well make sure he’s guarded 24 hours a day. That guy slipped between our fingers before,” said Max.

  “That was the Limeys let us down. You just cannot trust those people. Our guys will box Ali up tight and squeeze him for all he’s got,” replied Jack.

  Azar very much hoped Jack was right about Ali. She had felt less elated than after the previous fights she had been involved in. Maybe Max was right, killing and not being killed just becomes work after a while. Now, the news that Ali was still alive had replaced elation with dismay.

  After a number of detours to avoid the spreading riot, Max, Azar, Jack and Mohsan reached the corner of Third Street and Hobart Boulevard. They went to a dark basement bar called “The Escape” near Mohsan’s apartment. The streets outside were quiet but with a growing smell of smoke coming from the west. The bar was empty except for the tattooed and shaven headed bar keeper who had a baseball bat and a shotgun prominently displayed.

  “Its ok, pal. We’re in the security business. Any trouble, we’ll sort it,” announced Jack, flashing his Beretta and CIA badge.

  “Ok , friends. I was thinking of closing up soon, but if there’s customers we’ll stay open. If rioters appear, well we’re equipped. So, what’ll it be?”

  “Tequila sunrises, all round,” ordered Jack.

  They took a table where they could keep watch on the door. They were all in an uneasy frame of mind, feeling that this part of the game was not yet over.

  “Well,” said Max, “A pretty good result. I guess the riot is something we didn’t factor in. Talk about unintended consequences.”

  “Yeah. The riot. How did it begin? Well, buddy, you started it by setting the studio on fire!” laughed Jack.

  “Right, I provided the spark, literally. But it must have been waiting to happen. You can push the people so far, but alienation and discontent just gets explosive once in a while. It needs an outlet. Like a collective tantrum. I bet you this will be it for a few years; it will be quiet for nine or ten years, then zow, it will happen again, unless the Man listens to the people”

  “Max, you are full of bull shit,” said Azar with a grin.

  “But what about me now?” asked Mohsan, “Guess I’ll stay put in LA for a while and see how it goes. Maybe go back to college here. Do graduate work. Funnily enough, political science is something I’d like to do.”

  “Good idea!” said Jack, “But, Max, I don’t think we are in the mood for sociological speculation. Let’s get practical.

  What’s next here? We’ve got Ali. Last I heard he will pull through, if only just. Lost a hell of a lot of blood. We’ll keep him secure and squeeze what we can out of him. We’ve got some pretty good techniques these days. Water boarding where the guy can be made to experience drowning repeatedly. That usually works. Another thing we can try is sensory deprivation, using water tanks. Some of your beatnik friends would pay good money to float away in these tanks, but detainees usually freak after a few days. There’s a drug, you’ve maybe tried, Max, LSD, that sometimes works too.

  We’ve got a holding facility near Long Beach. It’s real secluded. It is hidden within a pound for stray dogs, can you believe that? If there is screaming it’s overshadowed by the dogs barking and yelping the whole time. We’re not sure how high up in the RPI Ali is or what he knows about their plans. Still, maybe he can finger some other operatives and assets and give us useful background intel. I’m sure we’ll get plenty out of him.”

  “Talking about Ali, when I was back in Berlin, it was mentioned that Ali was involved in stirring up German students to riot, mainly against the Shah but also against the state, in the dim hope that West Germany could go leftist revolutionary, oppose the Shah and weaken him that way. Everything these RPI guys do is about the Shah. They’re absolutely obsessed with him. They’ll miss him when he’s gone!” said Max, slugging down his second tequila, “Ahhh. That’s better. Tequila and salt after a hard day fighting for la causa is just right.”

  They had now moved on from the Tequila Sunrise cocktail and were drinking the clear oily liquor straight with salt and lemon.

  “Yeah, but still tastes like gasoline to me. That’s why you got to get it down quick.

  Now, the German student stirrings are a possible area of interest to the Company. If that sort of thing took off , and spread, it could weaken other free world governments. The RPI are playing with fire here. It might weaken the Shah to push the Germans left, but it would definitel
y strengthen the Commies. We know the RPI get support from the Sovs and their stooges. Why? Because it’ll help the Commies in the long run. They all know that “my enemy’s enemy is my friend” but also, he could become your enemy pretty soon. Yep, if the Shah goes, the Commies will be in, maybe not immediately but pretty soon. It’ll be like Hungary, Czechoslovakia, and Russia itself come to that. First, the revolution is all nice and inclusive, then, oh it’s 100% Commie! They somehow get rid of their erstwhile colleagues in the struggle and take over. You never hear of the other saps again.

  If Iran goes Red, the Middle East goes Red, and then the World goes Red. Believe me, because they’d have most of the world’s oil. We’re ok for oil in the good old USA for now, but not for much longer. On that gloomy note, let’s quit. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m totalled,” said Jack.

  “Lightweight!” said Azar, downing a tequila in one gulp, “Shit, that burns, but its good. Forget oil, run cars on tequila.”

  “Ok, ok, guess we better call a halt,” said Mohsan, “I’m getting out of it. Can’t get too incapable. We might still have to do some fighting if the riot comes this way.”

  Max, Azar and Mohsan then headed back to the Hobart Boulevard apartment. The sidewalks and street were empty but the sky was crisscrossed by helicopters shining bright searchlights over the far away troubled streets and the night air was loud with screaming sirens. Jack returned to a Company apartment in Wilshire where he slept badly and was troubled by dreams about Azar coming to his London Station Situation Room cot, followed by Max turning up and kissing him too. It got so bad, he had to get up and drink several Bourbons to stop this fixated line of dreaming. On the radio, he heard that the riot was subsiding with a death toll in the low twenties, numerous injuries and many millions of dollars of damage.