The Minders

by Max Boroumand

  “They never stop buses, unless they’re looking for someone,” the Kurd said.

  The border guard barely got on the bus. The search was fast, probably because there were very few on the bus and clearly none looked like any person of interest. After getting off, the guard lifted the gates, on both sides. The bus started to move, with the car close behind.

  “O.K. This is it,” the driver said, “Get ready!”

  The bus made it past the gates, with the car moving in sync. The Iranian border guard was still standing by the edge of the road, writing something on the clipboard, checking off boxes, writing down the time, and the bus number. Jason’s car passed right in front of him. The guard glanced up slightly, seeing something different, but not reacting immediately. The car passed the second gate, the Iraqi gate. Realizing what he saw, the Iranian border guard jerked forward and towards the alarm by the gate. He pressed it, setting off a super loud siren. The car downshifted and peeled around the bus.

  The alarm was loud, blasting on both sides of the border. Najafi and the other agents jumped out of their seats and ran outside the guardhouse. They ran out yelling, asking what happened. The Iranian border guard pointed at the dust floating behind the stopped bus. A car was tailing the bus, and as we opened the gate for the bus, it maneuvered around the bus and took off. The car had four people in it, all Kurds, from what he could see. On the other side, an Iraqi border guard started his jeep, others jumped in, and a pursuit began. Najafi grabbed the keys, from the border guard, and along with his agents, they too drove into Iraq.

  The chase was on.

  * * *

  It had been thirty minutes since Bobby pulled the antenna out of the Breitling watch, triggering the location signal. Jason’s car was ahead by nearly a kilometer, with the Iraqi car and The Center agents closing in. The chase took them through a small, yet busy and populated village. This section was the safest section. After that, it would become open season on them. The roads became mountainous, curvy, slower, and more dangerous, forcing the Kurds to slow down. The Iraqi and Center cars cut their gap in half. The Iraqis’ started shooting every chance they got. At the base of every curve, Jason’s car seemed adjacent to the Iraqis, inviting machine gun fire from the Iraqi soldiers. Najafi and his agents were shaking their heads each time the soldiers fired their machine guns.

  “We want them alive, you dumb shits!” Najafi was yelling.

  The Iraqis were getting closer, shooting every chance they got. Najafi was right behind, not wanting to pass. He did not want a friendly fire incident. He just stayed on the Iraqi jeep’s tail. Ten minutes of sheer terror later, one of the stray bullets hit Jason’s car, puncturing the front tire, pulling the car towards the edge. The driver over-compensated. The maneuver pulled the car in the opposite direction, hitting the side of the mountain and sending it into a ditch. The car was at a full stop.

  Jason and the Kurd with the AK-47 jumped out of the doors on the right. The ditch blocked the other doors. Jason yelled at Bobby to get out and in front of the car, in the ditch. The Kurd waited for the Iraqi jeep to get closer and, as it did, he began to shoot, stopping them in their tracks. Jason was conserving his bullets. The Iraqi soldiers stepped out with The Center agents right behind them. The only people shooting were the Iraqi soldiers. They were riddling the car with bullets. By now, everyone in Jason’s car was hiding in front, protected by the engine block. The Iraqis started walking over to the car, shooting, yelling to give up, in Arabic and in broken Farsi.

  As they got closer, Jason grabbed the AK-47 from the Kurd, checked the magazine, and asked for more bullets. The Kurd shook his head signifying no more bullets. Jason counted ten in the magazine, one in the chamber. He propped the gun in a shooting position, stood just high enough, and shot two of the Iraqis dead. The rest scattered around, as did The Center agents. Soon after, the Iraqi soldiers started to shoot again, at the car. The Center agents too started shooting, but were much better shots. They shot the Kurdish driver in the shoulder. Jason shot another Iraqi, wounding him. Everything slowed down. More time passed between shots. Jason had depleted the Kurd’s ammo and all of his. They had nothing left. They were sitting ducks.

  Najafi and his agents started moving towards the car. The two remaining and healthy Iraqi soldiers re-loaded and started to move past Najafi and his people, intending to kill everyone. Najafi tried to stop them, but got a gun barrel in his face. He backed off, looked at his Center agents, nodding an order. The Iraqi soldiers aimed their guns forward, walking faster. They were less than fifty yards away. There were no more shots from Jason’s direction. The Iraqis felt confident. They were happy to kill them all. They took several more steps. All of a sudden, two shots echoed through the air. The Iraqis fell to the ground dead. Behind them were The Center agents, with guns held at head level, a puff of smoke floating away from the tip of each gun.

  The agents began their move. They were forty yards away. Jason placed Bobby in between him and the car, pushing him down low.

  “Sorry son, I tried my best. You’re a great kid.”

  The Kurds, one wounded and the other staring at him, began to pray. Jason placed his hand on the shoulders of one, thanking them, apologizing for their predicament.

  Twenty yards away, The Center agents were about to move around the car, ready for the capture and a glorious return to Iran. Jason felt they were several seconds away from death. Suddenly, a whizzing sound went by above their heads, blowing the Iraqi jeep to smithereens. Jason recognized the Folding-Fin Aerial Rocket (FFAR) sound. Looking back, he saw the AH-64 Apache, firing its guns. He covered Bobby’s body as a barrage of 30mm cannon shots streamed at the standing Center agents. It was raining hot shells in the background. In front, there were pieces of road, rocks, and dirt, not to mention body parts, lifting in the air with each destructive bullet that zoomed by.

  Less than a minute later, all who had been standing were dead. The Apache shot another rocket at the remaining jeep, and then climbed, opening airspace for an Army UH-60 Black Hawk to come in for a pick up. A soldier repelled down with a hoist, first lifting Bobby. The hoist came down again. The soldier pointed at Jason. Jason pointed at the wounded Kurd. They picked up the Kurds, then Jason, with the soldier following last. The Black Hawk tilted and started moving around and back in the direction of Erbil. The Apache made another sweep around the area and, once clear, followed the Black Hawk.

  Minutes later the two helicopters were side by side. Jason smiled as he looked at the other helicopter, seeing his son Sean, with his helmet visor retracted and smiling back, joyfully showing the thumps up sign.

  * * *

  On the ride back, everyone was quiet, with one U.S. soldier treating the Kurd. Apart from some abrasions, the rest were all fine.

  “So, do you want your watch back?” Bobby asked Jason.

  “No, you keep it. I’ll have your dad buy me another.” Jason smiled.

  40 | Intelligence

  After a quick stop at the Erbil U.S. embassy, they airlifted Jason and Bobby to the Ramstein Air Base, for checkups and debriefings. Earlier, they flew in Mr. Akbari and his daughter from Turkey. They were all recovering and about to sit through a debriefing session with Warren Spencer and a succession of others, each of whom wanted a go at one of the biggest intelligence leaks out of Iran.

  Before the drudgery was to begin, they were to have breakfast as a group for the first time, free and safe. Breakfast began with hugging, tears of joy, and a tearful father thanking Jason and Bobby again for saving his daughter’s life. Sitting for breakfast, they reminisced about the entire journey, focusing on the positive, the funny, and the human side of it. It was a two-hour breakfast, with eggs, bacon, sausages, fruits, fresh German pretzels and jams, and freshly brewed coffee and juice. It was good to be together, to be safe again.

  “Oh, I brought your laptop back,” the little girl interrupted, as she ran to her room to fetch it.

  Bringing it back, Bobby and she moved to a side table and chatted
for a bit as Jason and the father talked more. Jason went over the debrief process, and asked that the father be as clear and complete in everything he remembered. He and his girl would be back home soon. Jason mentioned that his wife, Dr. Akbari, would also have to be debriefed and answer for her deeds. The father nodded in resigned agreement. Finishing with small talk, they ate their fill of breakfast.

  After breakfast, they were escorted to the all-day de-briefing. The first round was one-on-ones, with later rounds as smaller groups and, finally, as the whole group.

  * * *

  Each of the four started in separate rooms. In each room was at least one member of the intelligence group, one psychologist, and one person from the military establishment who would have to answer for their actions, namely the rescue mission. The father and daughter were offering up all that they knew, which was very little. In their case, Yasmin was more culpable and responsible. However, the story of these two could help persuade others to be lenient with her.

  They were grilling Bobby hard, but Jason had prepped him well in the days preceding the rescue. Jason instructed him to keep the encryption key to himself and specifically, to be quiet about the key’s whereabouts. Other than that, he was to speak the truth, as he remembered.

  Jason’s room, unlike the others, was filled with many more people, all of whom he assumed were there to find out about The Center and its intelligence gathering operations. Jason’s de-briefing began with people asking questions, in unison, out of order, and over each other. Chaos filled the air as everyone wanted to know about The Center. They wanted to know how it might affect them and their groups. The rest be damned, politics over facts.

  “One at a time!” Warren Spencer shouted.

  Jason waited for calm to reign before he began. He started by first requesting that all repercussions and actions against him and his cohorts, be waived. To which, he received an absolute negative, and that judgment would have to be made later. Jason nodded knowing that in the end, he held the key to his ultimate freedom and clearing. He began to tell the story. Everyone took copious notes, even though the video recorder operated the entire time. They asked many questions, asking repeatedly, looking for validation. For each answer, many more questions popped up. Jason had no answers for some questions, and some he would not answer. Hence, his dilemma with governing laws.

  * * *

  Hours into it, they recapped the entire story several times, broke it into pieces, revisited parts, tested and challenged every fact. Eventually, they determined that the story was complete. However, they were still miffed about the whereabouts and condition of the minders. They wished they could have captured them alive, to be interrogated. Most importantly, they were curious about the data and its location. It was then that Jason began his negotiations.

  “One last thing, about the data,” Jason opened up.

  “There were two locations, as I mentioned, for which I have IP addresses. Along with the employee list that we took from their ERP system, we re-encrypted the data with our own key, all of which we stored in the cloud.”

  “What do you want in return?” Spencer asked.

  “I want complete and all-encompassing immunity for me and all others who helped me, from any country-specific or international laws, just as I mentioned this morning!”

  The group mumbled amongst themselves and eventually agreed.

  “And, it has to be in writing, signed by the U.S. Attorney General.” Jason finished.

  It was late that same afternoon. They all had enough of the de-briefing for one day. They all left Jason’s debrief room except one, Warren Spencer. He waited for the last person to leave, and moved to turn the recorder off. He then made a cell call and placed the ringing phone, in speakerphone mode, on the table. Picking up the phone at the other end, was Mossad’s Director of Political Action and Liaison.

  “Hello Warren. Is he on?” he said, asking about Jason.

  “Yes he is, and we are alone. Ask of him what you want,” Spencer said softly.

  The Mossad director asked detailed questions about the four Mossad agents who had helped Jason, and if news could be offered by Jason on their circumstances and whereabouts. Jason had very little to offer apart from what he knew, adding how helpful and supportive they had been.

  “Thank you Jason. Oh, one last thing,” the Mossad director continued. “The last satellite message we received mentioned that they were in a data center, it was being destroyed, and that U.S. had access to the data. Can you elaborate?”

  Spencer quickly picked up the phone, taking it off speaker and walked out of the room. He finished the conversation away from Jason. Jason was now out of the loop.

  * * *

  Jason’s attorneys reviewed and finalized all the paperwork back in the US, emailing him a copy for final verification. Two days later, still in Germany, having made himself comfortable with all the legal proceedings, Jason emailed the IP addresses for the two offshore data centers, Qatar and Turkey, The Center employee list, as well as the 256-bit AES encryption key to Warren Spencer.

  It was now finally over for him. He could go home.

  41 | The Holidays

  Three weeks later, there was a gathering at Mike’s house.

  It was the Christmas holidays. It was to be a celebration of sorts. Mike wanted to gather all of those who helped in re-uniting Bobby with his family, to say thank you in person. Mike had purchased first class tickets for Jason and his wife, for Henry and his wife, and even offered to bring Baba and his family over, to which they replied that a visit to the U.S. would not be advisable.

  They had decorated the house beautifully and smartly, for the holidays. Mike’s wife had prepared a great feast and the house was brimming with joy, as they all sat around sipping eggnog, listening to classic Christmas music, and enjoying the warmth of the fireplace. Jason was enjoying being in a larger space, as he and his wife were still in a hotel waiting for the insurance approvals, and the final check to be delivered, so that they could go about finding a new home for themselves. Mike was back to his jovial self, hugging and kissing Bobby every chance he got.

  “It’s about that time,” Mike’s wife whispered. To which, Mike jumped up and fetched a gift from under the tree. It was a small box, wrapped beautifully.

  “O.K. everyone, gather around, gather around,” Mike yelled over the music as he took another sip of his eggnog.

  He ushered everyone around, making sure that Jason and his wife were in front. He then handed Jason the box, telling him it was in appreciation for all that he had done. Jason, as was customary, refused, handing the gift back to Mike. Henry quickly grabbed the box and proclaimed he will take it in Jason’s stead.

  “No, seriously Jason, I want you to have this. It’s just a small token of my appreciation,” Mike said pulling the box, with some effort, out of Henry’s hands.

  Jason, eyeing the small box, assumed it was a new watch. A watch much like what he gave Bobby. He accepted and slowly opened the box. Inside was a key, a simple nickel-plated brass key. Jason picked it out of the box, and looked inquisitively at his wife, and then at Mike.

  “Open the envelope that goes with it.” Mike smiled.

  Jason looked deeper into the box to find a small envelope. Inside was a picture of a house.

  “It’s your new house!” Mike’s wife screamed having waited long enough for the surprise.

  “What new house?” Jason’s wife, Amatis, asked in all seriousness.

  Mike took the picture and handed it to Jason’s wife. This is your new house. We took all the years of chitchat, wishes and discussions about rooms, colors, and all the little details, and found a house that best fit that vision, in a gorgeous part of Monterey, overlooking the bay. Jason’s wife held the picture, with tears in her eyes. She got up and gave Mike and his wife each a long hug, all the while crying. She was overjoyed. Jason stood up shaking Mike’s hands and thanking him. He got a bear hug back, and a tearful Mike started blubbering uncontrollably over Jason’s s
houlders.

  Bobby got up to separate the two, also teary-eyed, saying, “O.K. dad, it’s not like he saved the world. Let the man go!”

  Henry too stood up. “Where is my house?” he said jokingly, while grabbing another Budweiser, a drink that had never and would never again see the light of day in Mike’s house, except for that day.

  This was going to be a great holiday for all.

  42 | 3rd Datacenter

  As the U.S. celebrated the holidays, all the way around the world a group was active and working around the clock.

  In the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur, dozens of technology experts were sitting in a warehouse, typing away at their computers. Behind them were rows and rows of towering servers, with interconnected cables, lights blinking, fans humming. On the other end of the warehouse, trucks were being unloaded, more servers, more cables, more of everything to build out a larger data warehouse. Outside the warehouse, several fuel trucks were filling up the underground storage tanks that fed the generators. The immense power consumption would otherwise become a red flag for the local utility company, causing scrutiny and other problems.

  Malaysia, the third offshore location, was up and running at full speed, adding more and more servers. The data backup was clean and only one week out of sync. As they upgraded this site, they sent the data back to Iran, to a new and more secure site.

  * * *