by Run
The night passed without event. At first light the group, in single file, headed out south-east led by Shiron with Ryder in the rear to watch the others, glad to be once more on the move. They kept close together, meandering through the rocky outcrops on the thinly wooded ridge before descending again into yet another valley. The Iranians kept up the pace, although now and then, Afari was offered a hand by Ryder when negotiating the outcrops which she promptly refused.
They had covered no more than a mile when suddenly, as the grey light of dawn began to filter through low cloud, a shot rang out, followed shortly by several more; bullets spurting up the ground about them.
Tariq coughed, staggered forward and fell face down into the dirt, a gaping hole at the back of his head.
Everyone scrambled desperately for cover, returning fire randomly as more bullets ricocheted off the surrounding rocks and trees.
Shiron worked his way back until beside Ryder. With field glasses, Ryder quickly scanned the slopes above, both to locate the attackers and also to make sure he knew where each of the others were in case the traitor thought it was a good opportunity to take a few out.
“How many?” the Israeli asked, eyes darting from rock to rock scattered between the clumps of trees.
“Several. Probably the patrol we saw,” he replied, sweeping the slope and seeing a soldier with a radio transmitter on his back suddenly move behind a rock 100 yards to his left. Letting glasses fall, Ryder swung his rifle into a firing position and lined up the rock, waiting for the man to reappear.
Seconds later he did. Ryder squeezed the trigger; the soldier spun and staggered a few paces before crumbling face down onto the open ground.
Shiron then frantically sprayed the huddled heap.
“He’s dead! He’s dead!” Ryder shouted above the staccato of fire, pushing down the muzzle of the Israeli’s gun. “Don’t waste ammo!”
Shiron stopped and turned, eyes burning into Ryder. “Making sure that transmitter’s fucked. Don’t want anybody giving our position away, now do we?”
The way he said that, Ryder wondered if the Israeli knew about the traitor.
All around, the others were returning fire in short, sharp bursts each time they saw movement amongst the scrub and rock above, the sound reverberating loudly down the valley.
They held their position with some difficulty as the patrol tried to outflank them. Ryder ordered an immediate withdrawal to counter the move and the group, firing blindly, scrambled for new cover, at the same time keeping the patrol at bay.
A cry of pain and another Iranian soldier pitched forward.
A burst of fire from Kellar dropped two more. They now had the advantage and Ryder ordered them to spread out and attack.
Shortly, two more died, staggering out from their rocky cover and rolling down the slope before the last soldier surrounded, finally surrendered and stepped out from behind a boulder, hands on head, stumbling forward.
Hellmann dragged him into the centre of the group.
“You searching for us?” shot Shiron in Farsi, staring hard at the man as they enclosed around him.
The soldier stood silently, eyes darting, one man to another, from hardened features. Definitely Special Forces, thought Ryder.
“How did they know we were here?” questioned Sicano, turning to the other Americans.
The two Israelis glanced at one another.
Ryder wanted to say: ‘the traitor amongst us,’ but decided against. He looked for a possible sign, but there was none. “After the bridge they probably put two and two together,” he answered.
Shiron put his question again to the soldier, but he remained silent.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain how they tracked us so fucking accurately. We could’ve been anywhere in these goddamn hills,” said Kellar, looking a little bewildered.
“It seems to me they know what direction we’re heading,” said Sicano.
“Strange, the way they’ve kept on our tail,” added Brady.
Again Ryder wanted to tell; it was on the tip of his tongue, but he resisted.
The soldier was questioned again – no reply.
“Whatta we do with him?” Kellar shot, voicing the thoughts of the others.
Fehed stepped forward. “Awad was my friend. I will make him talk,” he said, and he stuck the barrel of his automatic hard under the soldier’s chin.
Fear seared across the soldier’s face, eyes pleading. He dropped his arms and blurted out that he did not know, admitting orders were to seek and destroy, but only the patrol leader knew the target.
Bullshit, thought Ryder; they would all have known who they were out to kill. Standard procedure for SF operatives, no matter what country, otherwise only shambles would occur at the time of executing, especially if something happened to the leader.
“Who do you think he was looking for?” shot Sicano.
Features contorted with fear, the soldier cried, “Kurdish insurgents – terrorists!”
“You lie!” Fehed jerked the muzzle harder into the man’s throat.
The soldier grunted with pain, looking frantically at Fehed.
Ryder was certain whoever wrote that message had probably left more along the route. This patrol was more than likely the result. Others could be out there right now, tracking. He glanced at the rest. “We’ll get nothing out of him.”
Everyone agreed.
Shiron questioned the soldier once more, waited, and when he received no reply he turned to Ryder. “Kill him and let’s get the fuck away.”
The man had to die, but Ryder would have preferred this not to happen under the present circumstances. However, they could not take him prisoner, or leave him behind to give intelligence. Reluctantly he looked at Fehed and nodded.
The soldier continued to plead for his life, knowing he was about to die.
Fehed, without hesitation, pulled the trigger, sending a single 7.62mm bullet into the soldier’s throat and up through the skull, blowing most of it away at the back of his head. The man crumbled to the snow, the sound of the shot reverberating through the valley and on through the surrounding hills.
They buried Tariq quickly, and as best they could, removed maps, ammunition and anything else of use from the dead soldiers and left the now useless transmitter shot up by Shiron, much to Ryder’s disappointment, before hurriedly making their way along the valley heading south-east. That patrol, and the prospect of others, made Ryder become even more concerned now about the traitor in their midst.
15
Ryder kept his focus at the rear of the single file led by Shiron, as they toiled under a clear azure sky through hilly terrain scattered with stands of trees and tussock some 3,000 feet above sea level. At one point they saw, away in the distance, a narrow black ribbon of road snaking across the white patchy landscape. A few vehicles could be seen but no humans were encountered; they gave the road a wide berth. By late afternoon they came to a large lake on their left between sloping mountains running steeply down to its surface. Ryder’s view ahead was blocked by rugged mountainside but to his right he could see a river on a plateau below in the distance.
“Lake Karun,” said Afari, walking just in front him. “Reservoir, held back by the Shahid Abbaspour Dam in the narrow gorge on the other side of that.” She pointed to the rising ground ahead.
Fuck! Another bloody major obstacle; country’s full of rivers, dams and gorges, he thought.
“Need to take a look,” he growled and made his way down the slope, followed by the others, to where he could get a view of the dam.
After a short scouring of the sparsely vegetated and rocky landscape, Ryder found a suitable vantage point giving a full view of the dam and its surrounds. From here, concealed in the shade of a boulder outcrop, he focused his glasses on the massive, curved concrete bowl-shaped structure and then the buildings and roadways surrounding below. Vehicles moved on roads sprinkled with a light dusting of snow and people could be seen mingling around the various building
s. On the far side of the dam, three huge concrete spillways plunged some 600 feet down at an angle of 60 degrees to the river, which curved away to the right, with buildings sparsely located on either bank. Further down the river, away in the distance, he could make out two narrow bridges spanning the slow-moving green strip of water. Sweeping glasses towards the narrow crest of the dam he studied the road on top, perhaps 20 feet in width, running the entire length of the curve. At a circular junction-point two-thirds of the way across, the road veered off at a right angle to span the spillways before ending at a concrete wall against the mountain slope on the other side. He swung the glasses back along the top to the side they were on but could not see where it ended due to the slope of mountain blocking his view. The imposing structure rose and connected halfway up the sharply angled mountain and he wondered how access to the dam crest was achieved. Then it dawned – must be a tunnel! He turned and focused the glasses on the road behind and below his position. And there it was: a hole in the rock – almost a horizontal slit – where he’d thought the road had petered out. When scanned earlier, this section of mountainside had then been in shadow; now he could clearly see the road disappearing under an overhang which could only mean one thing: a tunnel entrance. Although he was unable to observe an opening in the blind spot on the dam side because of the bulk of the mountain blocking his view, he was more than certain one would be there.
“A tunnel connects to the dam crest from that road down there,” he said, more to himself than to the others. Then turning to Saad, the nearest, and handing him the glasses, he pointed to the bridges in the far distance. “Are there any other closer crossings?”
The Iranian quickly scanned and passed the glasses back. “No,” then he nodded towards the lake. “That reservoir is one of a series of lakes that form part of the Karun River; no bridges, unless you want to go back well to the north-east.”
“Back how far?”
“Thirty – maybe forty miles.”
“That’ll take us well out of our way,” said Shiron, disappointment in his voice. “We must stay in a south-easterly direction.”
Ryder ignored him and pointed west beyond the sprawling workshops and power grids on the plain below, “And that way?”
“The nearest crossing is the Karun Number Three Dam, about fifty miles, and close to Masjed Soleiman.”
“Masjed Soleiman?” Hellmann asked.
This time Afari answered, “Big town, population around 250,000.”
“You sure there is no way to avoid this river and continue south?”
“Not unless you want to backtrack north and cross the Zagros at its highest or go 150 miles west to the Iraqi border,” Fehed replied.
After a few moments, “Looks like we’ll be taking one of those bridges then,” said Ryder, looking towards the river.
“That’ll mean having to thread our way through those buildings and people down there to get to the nearest,” voiced Sicano. “Look how far away that is; it’ll take hours and present enormous risks.”
“Nowhere near as risky as the dam,” countered Ryder. “What else can anyone suggest?”
Silence except for the wind whistling across the mountain slope.
“Cross on top of the dam; it’ll be quicker,” offered Kellar.
“And far more dangerous,” Ryder shot.
Brady, scanning the dam and the facilities beyond, lowered his glasses and asked Ryder, the two Israelis and the other two Americans to join him out of earshot of the three Iranians. When a short distance away from the cluster of boulders he came out straight with what he had to say. “We came here to blow a dam, why not this one?”
Ryder was taken aback, “With respect, Sergeant—”
“Hey,” the American cut in. “Let’s not get too formal here; call me Jed.”
“Okay, Jed, we don’t have anywhere near enough punch to take out this dam and you well know it. What little we do have I assumed would be used on this so-called missile base we’re sacrificing so fucking much to find.”
“Hang fire a minute, Frank. I wasn’t referring to the dam itself, but to that power-grid enclosure.” He pointed to the other side of the dam. “With what we have at least we can knock out a few pylons and maybe a transformer or two.”
“Jed’s right,” Kellar backed.
Ryder raised his glasses and took a long look, running lenses over a fenced tangle of steel pylons, cables and a number of large transformers just beyond a cluster of single-storey buildings situated above the top level of the spillways. A road, parallel to the power-grid enclosure, was partly cut into the mountainside and terminated alongside the buildings against a concrete parapet wall. The road looked to be about 15 feet higher than the road which spanned the spillways butting into the other side of the parapet.
“If we do enough damage to disrupt the region’s power supply, even for a short time,” pressed Brady, “that for me would, at least, be some compensation for failing the original mission.”
“Yeah, I agree,” added Sicano.
Ryder let the glasses drop. He was in two minds. What the American voiced was true but the risks involved crossing the dam and placing charges in the grid enclosure were extremely high; would they be so bold if they knew one of the group was a traitor? Less risk to take the long way to the nearest bridge. But, then again, if they managed to succeed they could at least justify what they had suffered so far would not have been all in vain. He turned to the Israelis. “What about you?”
“If we locate a base we’ll need the Semtex; we should take a bridge,” said Shiron, resolutely.
“It’s almost a third of a mile across the top of that dam,” Hellmann added. “Even if we get to the other side without discovery, how the fuck are we going to scale that sheer concrete wall with the gear? No, I’m with Yari; take a bridge.”
Ryder guessed getting onto the dam itself direct from where they now hid would be a task in itself and scaling the steep slope down to the crest without ropes was out of the question. That left only the tunnel – a veritable trap. He came to a decision, not sure if it was the influence of the Americans, or perhaps subconsciously wanting the traitor to show his hand; even compensation, maybe, for what he regarded as a wild-goose chase attempting to locate a missile base, but – if the truth be known – he was trained to sabotage and kill. It was ingrained. “We’ll cross the dam and take out a piece of that grid.”
Shiron made to protest, but before he could, Ryder fired, “I know. I know what you’re going to say,” holding up a hand, his previous thoughts about not wanting to cross the dam now definitely gone. “To go the bridge way could take over a day to skirt the complex, if not more. We could be over the dam and on the other side in less than thirty minutes, including through the tunnel, at the same time giving the bastards a bloody nose.”
“Yeah, but at least we have more chance of staying alive going the long way,” Shiron countered.
Ryder was not going to back down; his voice hardened. “The choice has been made. If you want us to help find your base, then this is the way we go. Take it or leave it.”
“We’ll leave it,” Shiron shot back.
“Fine with me,” Ryder replied, a little surprised, knowing without the Israelis no way could they locate a base.
“Wait!” It was Hellmann. “How you going to scale that wall?” he said, in an attempt to diffuse the situation.
Shiron fixed him sharply. “Hold it, Corporal.”
Hellmann did, and began to shift uneasily.
The question told Ryder that the corporal was in favour of the dam. Maybe he had been a bit hasty putting the Israeli sergeant on the spot. He decided to give it another go. “Look, you’re Sayeret Mat’kal, and Unit 269 at that,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “This is an opportunity for you to get even, if not for yourselves, then for Israel. Think about it: there may not be a missile base and what we’re doing could well be all for nothing; at least inflicting some damage to the power grid could compensate in a small way.
”
The Israelis glanced at one another as if something was on their minds they could not say.
After a prolonged silence Shiron spoke, “How much Semtex do we have?”
Ryder looked at Kellar.
“Enough to knock out a trani or two with some left over to maybe put a little dent in a missile base should we find one.”
“Okay, we will join you,” Shiron said abruptly and stared hard at Ryder. “I trust, Frank, we won’t be making a habit of sidetracking our mission again?”
He nodded, but it really was out of his hands. He wondered what was going on in the thoughts of the person who hid the note; would he, or she, somehow make an attempt to foil what they had in mind now or later?
“To answer your question about the wall, Corporal,” said Ryder, “we’ll use the sergeant here,” he eyed Kellar and the American gave a weak grin. “He’ll hoist you on to his shoulders then push you up so you can grab the parapet and clamber over; the others will follow, helped by you once you’re at the top. We’re only talking of about 15 feet.”
“What about him?” Shiron glanced at Brady. “Roping up that wall with shoulder like it is, won’t be easy.”
“Don’t worry about me, Sergeant; it’s healing good,” Brady came back, fixing the Israeli with a cold stare. “Climbing that wall is nuthin’ compared to what we all might have to face if we find that base you’re looking for.”
“And the gear?” pressed Shiron.
“We’ll pass it up once you’re at the top then finally pull ‘Bear’ up himself,” Ryder answered.
