by Frank Perry
helicopter, the interior light provided a weak red glow. Peter looked at his team who were already checking their gear. The pilot signaled the crew chief that they were five minutes from touchdown. The helicopter only had enough fuel to stay on location a few minutes.
Blomstein had picked the landing zone based on its remoteness in the mountains above Tehran with a clear line of sight above the section of town with government residences. The team felt the helicopter slow down, followed by a rotor pitch change as it went into a low hover, with the aircraft positioned into the wind, slightly nose-up. The crew chief had already removed the waste gun, and slid the door forward. The strike team released their safety harnesses and slid two containers toward the opening. A cable with a penetrating weight system was capable of lowering a thousand pounds more than two hundred feet through the trees to the ground. When the first container was attached, Stokes jumped on top grabbing the cable as it tipped outside, and lowered to a rocky plateau surrounded by trees.
Less than a minute later the second container, with both Peter and Blomstein aboard, hit the ground hard, sending them tumbling while Stokes unhooked the payload. Within seconds, the cable was hoisted above and the helicopter disappeared in the night. It was silent on the mountaintop except for a gentle cold wind blowing through the trees. Peter had not planned for the cold weather, and their desert clothing was inadequate for the mountains where snow still covered parts of the ground. The team all wanted to move fast to overcome some of the chill.
Back at the OC, technicians were sending signals to increase magnification from one of the thermal cameras in the DSP satellite. The body heat of the men could be seen momentarily under the trees before a computer took over, producing blue circular icons for the three men superimposed on the landscape. They were able to watch the men on the ground halfway around the world.
On the mountain, the team remained motionless for several seconds, listening for any unnatural or unusual sounds. When satisfied that they were undetected, they began opening the containers and removing supplies.
The first equipment to be set up was a tripod with a specialized binocular system that had a daylight telescopic lens, plus a night thermal imaging lens with a laser. Blomstein began a visual reconnaissance, slowly panning the system in a circle, checking for any sign of life or vehicles on the hills surrounding them. Peter and Stokes removed backpacks and other equipment cases. When everything was assembled, they covered the containers with brush in a ravine, and then began hiking toward the next peak that overlooked the section of Tehran they were targeting.
The only radio dialogue was a brief burst transmission, “Bravo, this is Striker One. Team is en route to Waypoint Two. ETA is 0430 local, out.”
There was a brief confirming message from the OC as they climbed up the side of the mountain, then preceded east along a ridge. Loose jagged rocks made climbing difficult with each man carrying over fifty pounds. There was enough starlight to navigate across the forbidding terrain, but there was no trail.
It took two hours to reach a suitable camp location with a clear view of the northwest part of the city. They stopped climbing below the tree line, where there was an abundance of natural cover. They had one M14 sharpshooter rifle three M4 assault rifles and three M9 pistols.
They set up the camp quickly and were ready to reconnoiter the area just as the sun began to rise. They did a quick perimeter check with the binoculars then sat together eating cold MREs. Between bites, Peter scanned the city below. They had a clear view of the residential mansions eight miles away. As the sun rose higher in the sky, ultraviolet rays began reacting with air pollutants and the view was obscured with smog, which had not been anticipated.
They spent the day reviewing street maps and images from the sighting system. Peter knew this part of the city from ground level, but the other men had only seen satellite pictures. Peter and Blomstein would go into the city using radio communications to verify the target, while Captain Stokes would stay on the mountain operating the laser designator.
The day passed quickly as they worked out the final details of the plan. As dusk fell, they changed into civilian clothes under their DCUs. Their identification indicated that they were Canadian oil company employees. If they were questioned, the CIA, which operated the business, would validate them. They started hiking down the mountain.
Back at the OC, Simmons watched the icons move slowly through the terrain toward the city. It would be more than ten hours before they were in location. There were no red icons within miles, which would have indicated unidentified humans or vehicles, so it seemed certain that the team would be safe for a while. He decided to get some sleep and instructed his executive officer to wake him immediately if there was any voice communication or any unfriendly movement in their vicinity. Rachael had not come into the OC.
Up Close
After stumbling and sliding several times, Peter and Blomstein reached the bottom of the mountain hours later. Upon reaching a dirt road, they removed and hid their military uniforms, radios and weapons. They marked the spot with several rocks. Their civilian clothes were reasonably clean and they carried luggage for an overnight stay.
They followed the dirt path for about a mile before reaching a two-lane paved road that led to the city. They were less than two miles from the outskirts as the sun began to rise. Morning commuters and shopkeepers began crowding the streets just as they reached the edge of the mall with the Museums, which were not yet opened. There were many more men in military uniforms than Peter’s last visit. On his last mission, the city was peaceful, but there was more tension this time. It was only minutes before they were challenged while crossing the plaza.
A young soldier walked toward them, stopping about ten feet away, saying something in Farsi. Peter responded, “We don’t understand. Do you speak English?”
“Yes, am learn’ed at the University. Are you Americans?”
Blomstein responded, “No, Canadian.”
“Please, let me see identifications.”
They pulled out their passports, which included boarding passes indicating that they had arrived earlier in the morning by airplane. The soldier demanded, “So, what is your business in Iran?”
Peter responded, “We work for an oil company and are here to research possible purchasing agreements with Iranian companies.”
“Where are you staying?”
“We have reservations at the Evin hotel, but cannot check in until later today.”
“What are you doing here early in the morning?”
Peter responded, “We thought we would visit the museums and walk around before going to the hotel; we are very tired and want to sleep early.”
The soldier stepped away and used his radio to communicate their information to someone unseen. After a minute of dialogue the soldier returned his radio to its holster and approached them. He seemed edgy and unsure, but handed back their papers and told them it was dangerous for Westerners to roam around the city.
Walking away, Peter looked at Blomstein commenting, “Something’s wrong, this is more security than I’ve ever seen. Be alert.”
He then pulled an iPod from his pocket, which was modified by the CIA as a short-range transceiver. Holding one of the earpieces near his mouth, he pretended to blow on it, saying, “Striker Two, copy?”
With the second earpiece in his ear, he heard “Roger. Copy.”
“Striker One, out.”
Placing the second earpiece in his ear, he was grateful that the communicator worked at this range.
They took a taxi to the Evin and got a single room with twin beds. They were careful to talk only as men on a business trip while in the room.
In the early evening, they took a taxi back to the museum district, but this time walked directly to the adjoining streets leading to Abu Qatada’s residence. Peter felt awkward trying to look casual strolling toward the tree-lined boulevard fronting the executive mansions. There were no other civilians on the street and military vehicles blo
ckaded traffic from entering.
“Josh, this isn’t normal.”
Continuing to walk, Josh said, “You’re creeping me out, Peter.”
“Stay alert.”
They would draw unwanted attention from the military police by turning away, so they continued walking up the street like lost tourists. Peter wore a ball cap and big sun glasses in case Abu Qatada should drive past. As they approached the barricade, another soldier challenged their business in the district and checked their papers again.
Peter explained, “We went to the museums, then saw this beautiful street, so we wanted to take some pictures.”
In good English, the soldier said, “We do not allow tourists, you must leave.”
Blomstein replied, “Okay, we don’t want any trouble.”
Walking away, Peter said, “We need to find a spot where we can observe Qatada coming and going.”
Observers
At the Pentagon, General Simmons awoke in the back of the OC before six and immediately requested a situation report. The officer on duty explained that the strike team was in the area close to the residence. They had no voice communications. Simmons acknowledged and took command.
About an hour later, Rachael was admitted to the operation center. Simmons was pleased to see her.
“Hello Rachael, welcome to the Operations Center.”
“Thanks General, this place is huge. So, how does
