by Tony Criddle
The pilot broke up the helo’s angular lines with dead branches and small live ones ripped from nearby trees, but he couldn’t reach all that many. Then he started running after, the sixty-metre dash to the rocks seeming more like a marathon. He crammed himself into the small crevice pushing Laleh ahead of him. The silence was intense, almost eerie, after long hours of a whining engine. Not even a song bird intruded.
Cobra Two banked steeply over Azar Shahr airfield and aimed for the spit of tawny and green land breasting into the lake. They had to have gone for the shortest water crossing and that was it. The jet jockey started the big fighter down again.
“Anything on radar Habib?”
The RIO dreaded the question, but knew he had no choice. He anticipated the blast that was about to come.
“Total hash ahead sir. I thought I might have had a faint echo on the lake just as the radio call came in but it was very iffy. That was nearly ten minutes ago.”
The XO did explode as Habib expected. “Why didn’t you say so you imbecile. You’ve got guard duty for a bloody week when we get back. Look at it down there, the sun’s almost gone. In fifteen minutes nobody will be able to see a bloody thing.”
Habib took a punt, trying to redeem himself.
“What about a missile, sir. It’s pretty cold and isolated down there and the engine must still be pretty hot even if they’ve just landed.”
The XO paused. “What the hell do you mean, missile?”
“They’re heat seekers sir. If we get within five or six miles they might warble. They couldn’t have gone far in the time they had.”
The pilot didn’t waste time. “We’ll have to get low for the missile cone to pick them up, but if this works Habib you’ve saved your arse. Enable both outboard Sidewinders, and five minutes is all we’ve got. Keep an eye on the clock.”
The jet pilot swung right, dropped to 500 feet, and started flying a search grid.
Nick did a quick check. They had the weapons and two of the four bags, and Fred’s black bag with the money was one of them. The other was Laleh’s. Sinclair had thrust it at her when he grabbed the Tikka.
The Jet Ranger looked forlorn, obvious and abandoned in the stronger light away from where they were, the geometric silhouette and sharp angles stark and clear. It was too late now though, it was how it would have to be. Amen. Only minutes later they heard the intimidating roar of jet engines to the north, obviously very low.
“The bastard’s sweeping from our furthest possible position backwards guys. He must have been here a while though. It won’t be long before it’s too dark for any more searches, and he must be getting low on fuel. Fifteen minutes tops and I reckon we’ve got it made.” A little optimism wouldn’t go amiss, but then Sinclair dissolved it again.
“Fuck it. I didn’t latch my door properly. It’s swinging in the breeze.”
“It’s too late now Jock. He probably won’t see it anyway.”
“The bloody sun’s rays were on it and the perspex glittered. That’s how I saw it myself.”
Sinclair brushed Nick’s hand away and broke from the rocks. He didn’t have far to go.
Cobra Two rolled in for his second pass, side stepping two miles and running south to north. One more and he was out of there. Nothing showed, but when he was three miles from a narrow, isolated ridge their headsets filled with a low-grade growl. Both concentrated on the ground a few miles ahead as the growl became a higher pitched warble. Something flashed, concentrating their attention.
“Got it. Switching to guns.” That was just one click on a rotary switch, before the XO moved his finger to a trigger on his cyclic. He lined up precisely. The range would be optimum in just one mile.
From the cockpit the chain gun emitted a muted roar like ripping calico, accompanied by a slight, acrid whiff of cordite. The slope ahead jumped and contorted hazily, the decimated shards of earth and splintered rocks hurtled skywards as bullet impacts obscured the target. He eased up to avoid the top of the ridge then rolled and pulled hard into a tight circuit. The ‘G’ was strong enough to distort their features as compressed air rushed into their flying suits, but both ignored it, staring hard at the ground ahead.
“That’s a definite kill, boss. One skid has collapsed and the rear rotor blade is bent over the fuselage. No fire, but they won’t be using it again. I think I saw a body near it too.”
“You’re right, that’s a kill. Allah be praised because we haven’t got fuel for any more. It’s too late for a chopper to get here before dark but they won’t get far on foot in this country. No guard duty and I owe you a beer if someone hasn’t locked the bloody bar up yet. Vector us home son.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Mobile hot tears cascaded down Laleh’s face, the running mascara making a mess around her eyes. Nick held on tight, his arms like a vice.
“Shush Lil, stop it, the jet will be back to see what it’s done. Leave it until we know he’s gone.” She still struggled but even as he finished talking the ground shook again as the fighter bomber did a slow pass. Nick covered her with his body, trying to push her further into the rocks, and she stopped struggling even though she was still crying. The engine rumble faded as the jet started to climb, and only then did Nick step out from the rocks. The aircraft was disappearing to the north-east by then. Nick raced to Jock with Farhad and Laleh right up there with him.
Although Sinclair wasn’t yet dead, it wouldn’t be that long before he was. He’d taken one hit but it was a big calibre through and through. There was a hole in his right chest which he tried to pinch closed with bloodied, twitching fingers, but a slowly spreading pool of gore on the hard, dusty soil told Nick that he was leaking badly from the back as well. The efforts on his chest were pointless, they weren’t going to work. Nick’s own eyes started to water.
Sinclair’s eyelids fluttered. The eyes staring back at him were red and wet. He tried to speak, but gasped, and had to start again.
“No time for any sentimental crap laddie.” He stopped and panted. “In my wallet, the last photo I ever got of my girls. On the back is their granny’s address in Stirling.” His panting was more ragged. “The number is an account in Edinburgh with the Bank of Scotland and the name Sinclair and the number opens it up. Give it to my girls Nick. It’s a fair bit. Tell them I never stopped thinking about them.”
Jock Sinclair was ebbing fast now, but beckoned Laleh with bloodstained, hooked fingers.
“You make sure he does it Lil.” It was the first time he’d shortened her pseudonym. He tried, but didn’t manage anything else. The moist eyes glazed in a matter of seconds.
“Command, Cobra Two.”
“Cobra Two, loud and clear.”
“Command, we destroyed the chopper and think we got an occupant as well.” Arak heard that on the overhead speaker and hurried to the colonel.
“We must go immediately in a helicopter Colonel.”
The colonel hushed him with an angry slash of his hand.
“Is it worth sending a helicopter now Cobra Two?”
“Negative command. It’s pretty black in the canyons already and a chopper would take two hours to get here, and need fuel from Azar before he could search. It’s steep open country though, and they’re on foot, so even if they went all night they would be lucky to make a dozen or so miles. They wouldn’t dare flag a vehicle down, and the mountains to the west and south are pretty high, so they’ve got to go to the north-west. They’ll still be fifty miles from the border in the morning.”
“Roger that Cobra Two. What do you suggest?”
“Get one of the choppers to refuel at Azar Shahr at dawn and concentrate the search to the north-west when he can see where he’s going. The FLIR should find them quickly enough. I’ll brief you when I get back.”
“Roger Cobra Two. The circuit is clear.”
“It had better be command. I’ll be sucking on fumes when I get there.”
Nick sat on the ground beside his friend. He was holding a blood strea
ked hand that already looked waxy, but he couldn’t let go. He was in shock and Farhad wasn’t much better off. It was Laleh who stood with tears still filling her eyes. She looked at their ride in the rapidly fading light and could see it was finished. She turned to Nick her voice urgent, insistent.
“Nickie, we have to get away from here quickly. Jock wouldn’t have wanted us to waste any of the time we’ve got.” Both men refocused as if they’d been kicked. Nick wiped wet eyes with his sleeve and seemed to notice the rapidly fading light for the first time.
“You’re right Laleh. We’ve got to get moving.” He physically shook himself back into the present.
“You two salvage what you can from the machine. I’ve got to look at the map while I can still see it.”
Farhad hurried Laleh to the chopper while Nick squatted with the opened map. It didn’t take him long to work out a preliminary route and the others were back with the bags as he finished. One of the cloth food containers was shredded by bullets, which further motivated him.
“We can’t carry too much if we’re walking so we’ll go through what we’ve got left. We’ll take the weapons and just what we can get in your bag Fred.” Nick knew what was in that one. He fished out his pocket knife and gave it to Amini.
“There’s a small emergency magnetic compass, starboard side near the canopy roof. It’s held on by two small screws. A couple of gadgets on this should shift it.” He indicated the rough position with a hand before he glanced at Laleh. “Lily, you go through the bags with me. Only stuff we think is vital goes in Farhad’s bag.”
They scattered, but were back together in a matter of minutes. Nick forced himself to look at the body.
“The ground is too hard to bury him, and we haven’t got anything to dig with anyway. We’ll put Jock in a crevice and cover him with rocks. Take him by the shoulders Fred. I couldn’t drag him by the heels.” The two men lifted the torso and the girl hurried in and lifted the feet. It didn’t take long, and getting rid of the body seemed to revitalise him.
“Fred, check the weapons and make sure they’re fully loaded. Laleh, you empty out the bags on the deck. We take passports, certificates and any important papers and some spare ammunition, but not much more or it will be too heavy.”
Laleh dumped the contents in a pile. It was already getting too dark to see properly, and they went through it more by feel than sight. Nick discarded most of it and when he repacked the essentials tightly there was still some room.
“Nickie, can I please take my clean knickers?” It was plaintiff, almost a plea, and he smiled for the first time in hours.
“Of course Laleh. Put any spare socks in as well, we’ll need to keep our feet dry if we’re walking.” She sighed with relief.
“Five minutes for a quick brief and then we go guys.” Nick put the discards back in a bag and stuffed it amongst the nearby rocks.
“We’re going for a place called Aslanik tonight. It’s an isolated village, close to our route, but not in an obvious straight line. It’s about twenty-five clicks away, so we’ll have to really push it, but that could be a bit further than they expect us to go. Expect a couple of villages and a minor road on the other side of this hill, but we’ll bypass them. There’s bound to be some sort of search at first light and the villagers will be questioned first, so the less people that know about us the better. Watch where you walk as well. We can’t afford an accident but there will be a decent moon up soon. Okay, let’s get on with it.”
“What is FLIR Colonel?”
“Forward looking infra-red, it’s used mostly in search and rescue. It’s designed to pick up body heat, any heat really, but it’s only good for about five miles. You can be hidden though and it will still sense the temperature difference.”
“So it can happen in the dark?”
The colonel had been around long enough to know where this was going. “It does Mister Arak, but unfortunately it doesn’t tell the pilot what’s in front of him. It may pick up something warm behind a rock or in the trees, but it doesn’t tell him that there’s something in the way. He needs eyeballs for that. All mammals throw out body heat as well, so a signature isn’t necessarily human. He’ll need eyeballs to sort that out too. I’ve got three big choppers flyable out of eight, so I’d like to hang on to what I’ve got left, and attending my men’s funerals tends to piss me off. Aviators live with risks Mister Arak, but the reasons need to be good ones.”
Arak could see the expression on the colonel’s face and realised it was time to shut up. He was distracted by the Tomcat landing. It wasn’t exactly sucking on fumes but the major didn’t ever want to see his fuel gauges that low again either. He was in the operations centre six minutes after landing.
“A successful mission Major. To be honest I didn’t think you had a chance.”
“It was my young RO Colonel. I wouldn’t have thought about using missiles to look for a heat signature.”
The colonel led the major to a large wall map with Arak trailing behind. The XO peered and pointed. “There, on the tip of that isolated ridge.”
The colonel made a few calculations. “By the beard of Allah, that’s nearly 250 miles away. A good two hours flying and add a half an hour to that for refuelling.”
“That’s why I suggested a dawn start. If a helicopter leaves here at five, it could refuel at Azar and be searching not long after first light. Our own pilot won’t be tired either, but the fugitives will be, and they won’t get far at night.”
Arak was beginning to understand the problems and wisely held his peace. These professionals wouldn’t be interested in his opinions anyway.
“You think you hit someone as well?” “It was all a bit quick Colonel and I couldn’t hang around. Either I hit someone or they dropped a big pile of clothing.”
“Good, that should slow them down.” Arak was jubilant, but then he stopped smiling abruptly.
Two pairs of eyes as cold as an arctic dawn skewered him from a few feet away. It was the colonel who spoke.
“There’s a pilot out there and he flew over 500 miles without your people getting a bloody whiff of him. You said he was British Navy as well Mister Arak, and military pilots are all trained in escape and evasion. You haven’t caught him yet and they haven’t got far to go now. I wouldn’t get too cocky until they’re in the bag if I were you.”
Arak’s gaze slid sideways. This was an exclusive club he would never belong to with an inbuilt sentiment he’d never understand. Aircrew may end up having to fight each other but now he realised that’s not what it was about. Underneath they were a brotherhood who operated under a different code, who marched to a different drum. They would do what they had to but wouldn’t like doing it, and would remember every aircraft they’d ever splashed. He was about to challenge air force integrity and commitment but thought better of it. For them there was nothing personal in this at all. The colonel dismissed the major then spoke into a phone.
“Get some sleep at the helicopter squadron Mister Arak. You’ve got a five o’clock take-off. They’ll fix you up with some food.” He deliberately turned his back.
Nick led up the mini-avalanche to the crest only a hundred metres above. Amini brought up the rear. The scrub was juvenile and undeveloped. The lightly crumpled ground made the footing easier, and when they reached the summit there wasn’t much scrub below either. It was Iran, so that was no surprise, but the monochrome views were staggering even though it was rapidly getting darker. A few villages nestled at the foot of the ridge, marked by dim, flickering oil lamps, and a minor road led into them, but only one set of vehicle headlights wavered away from them in the distance. Further away it looked totally deserted. Nick knew there were more villages out there somewhere, but the smoky lanterns didn’t throw enough light to mark them.
The rolling ridges of the foothills showed vaguely as ominous dark shadows, but beyond them the black, foreboding mountains were only noticeable because they blotted out bright stars to the west. Nick pointed out the
glowing dot in a sea of grey that was Salmas, and took a bearing from the luminescent markings of the small emergency compass
Farhad carried the launcher, the girl the much lighter Tikka and Nick was wrestling with the bag when he led off down the slope. The villages at his feet were faintly illuminated and easy to see, so Nick headed away from them in case they had dogs. The footing was easier at the base of the slope than on the loose, shifting sands of the downhill stretch, so he pushed them harder still. By then a large amber moon had dragged itself up from the eastern horizon, and was doing its bit to help.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The padded, imitation leather arm-chairs in the briefing room were smothered by a cloying, quiet darkness, but dim light from the passageway spilled though a partially open door. It was momentarily blocked by a young second lieutenant as he pushed through the gap and shook Arak vigorously. The policeman started, initially confused at where he was. There were no curtains on the window and it was as impervious as a mirror, reflecting only the dimly illuminated doorway. Outside it was still deep night. Arak struggled upright, hit a switch, and the lightly sleeping men around him woke instantly.
“There’s bread and cheese in the fridge and canned milk for coffee if you want it. The aircraft will be ready for you in twenty minutes.” The youngster didn’t seem overawed by the team or its collection of weapons either. There was contempt in the way he said it.
One of Arak’s men was still chewing when the team trooped outside to an oil-stained concrete hard-standing. It was eerily lit by deck level orange sodium lights, and several ground-crew milled around a whining start trolley, their warm, moist breath condensing in the frosty night air. No other lights burned except in the glass panelled top of the control tower.
They were seated in the cabin by a green-helmeted crewman while the co-pilot scrambled over the transmission platform above. Arak was strapped into the jump seat with a foam bound wire headset fitted over the top of his head, but his team in the cheap seats only got simple blue ear defenders. They’d entered through a lowered ramp at the rear, but the machine had a forward door up near the cockpit and a large sliding panel behind and opposite. It was a big helicopter.
