by R G Ainslee
"I work at the Archeological Museum in Tabriz."
"Give me a break lady. Museum people don't run around carrying a Beretta Jaguar pistol. Unless they're a Mossad Sayan."
She shot him a coy smile and stayed silent.
"They're gaining on us," said Jack. "Can't you go any faster?"
"If I did, I'd have to pass John. What's the road like?"
"Same as this for about forty klicks to the next town."
"Any good place to make a stand?"
"No, we need to out-run them."
Ronni looked back. "We cannot let the Syrian catch us."
"Syrian?"
"Yes. This Carlos man — Fernandez calls him Walker — is with a member of Mukhabarat, the Syrian military intelligence. They are after something I have. It is important they do not get it."
"What is it you have? And don't give me any BS if you want our cooperation."
"An electronic board from an American Phoenix air-to-air missile. This Walker is selling it to the Syrians. And if I may ask, who the hell are you?"
John grinned. "Let's just say I work for the government."
"Is Felix an American?"
"Yeah, a Cuban born American."
"Is that his real name?"
"Can't say. By the way what do you go by?"
"Veronica Zacarias, but my friends call me Ronni. And you?"
"John will do."
The tan Toyota Landcruiser was coming fast, Amadeo only had a quarter-mile lead. The suspension on the Anadol sedan was shot, causing John to slow for every curve in the road. Once he swerved to miss a goat and almost ended up in the ditch.
Jack set the Škorpion aside and picked up the Tokarev. "This will give me more range and velocity than that thing. I thought the Mossad would at least carry an Uzi. She know how to use this?
"I'm sure she does. Yesterday, she executed a guy in a gravel pit with her twenty-two pistol."
"Executed?"
"That's after she shot him in the foot and knee after he wouldn't answer her questions."
"She's not one of those bi-polar dames, is she?"
"Can't say, but my advice is don't get on her wrong side."
"Don't worry, she's all yours."
A shot rang out. Amadeo said, "They're not in range yet, are they?"
"No, just keep the pedal to the metal. Let 'em use up their ammo."
"This thing is topped out at ninety klicks, can't go any faster."
A bullet clanked off the tailgate. "Lucky shot," said Jack. He shifted his position with his back against the front seat and feet against the tailgate. He raised the pistol, aimed, and squeezed off a shot. The Toyota weaved across the gravel and the driver struggled to regain control.
"You get him?"
"Put a hole in the windshield. He almost lost it."
The Landcruiser slacked off and fell back, following out of pistol range.
"He ain't gonna give up," said Amadeo.
"No, but we can get further down the road while he thinks about it."
"They are shooting," said Ronni.
"Yeah, saw the cruiser weave back there, bet Jack returned fire."
John glanced over at Ronni, blood oozed through her robe. "You're bleeding. You been hit?"
She grimaced. "A shrapnel injury from this morning. We were ambushed along the way."
"You gonna be okay?"
"Yes, Felix fixed the cut. He said he was a combat medic. Is that true?"
"His name is Amadeo, not Felix, and yes he is very good with gunshot wounds. Tell me about his ambush. Was it bandits?"
"No." She paused. "They were most likely Syrian Mukhabarat. They have been active in Tabriz this year, but I have not seen them for a few days."
"Does he know this?"
"No."
"Listen here, are there any other secrets you need to tell me about? I don't like to operate in the dark. You understand?"
She lowered her head and didn't respond.
"Here they come again," said Jack. Walker accelerated after Amadeo slowed for a curve.
The Toyota was gaining fast. A head, then a torso emerged from the Landcruiser's sunroof. The man aimed and emptied a full magazine from a semi-auto pistol. The flurry of shots echoed off the surrounding valley walls. The Gaz jeep began to fishtail, the right rear tire was shredded. Jack responded with a single shot, a second hole appeared in the windshield.
The man popped up again, emptied a second magazine, a hailstorm of bullets peppered the rear of the Gaz. Jack returned fire until his slide locked back.
"Hold it steady, I can't get off a good shot," shouted Jack over the thumping sound of the shredding rear tire.
"Losing speed — hard to keep it straight." Amadeo struggled to stay on the road as the tire spun off the wheel. Moments later, the wheel began to spew a roman candle of sparks as it cut into the roadway.
The man appeared again, Jack grabbed the Škorpion and squeezed off three shots on full auto. Ronni had not put in a full magazine. The Landcruiser hit a hole and the man fell into the back seat. Jack switched magazines, the man re-appeared, Jack held the trigger down until it quit. The man slid down into the car, his pistol bounced off the roof onto the road.
Flames flickered over the tailgate. Jack yelled, "Fire — we're on fire." The sparks had ignited the leaking gas tank under the floor.
Amadeo slammed on the brakes as he rounded a blind curve. The Amadol was stopped in the middle of the road for a flock of sheep. The Gaz skidded out of control and banged into the car's rear bumper.
The Landcruiser cut a hard right and ran off the road up a shallow embankment. It came to a halt in the middle of the scattering flock. Walker and his two remaining companions barreled out of the vehicle, firing at the flaming jeep.
Jack switched magazines and emptied it into the closest man, who fell to the ground.
A boom echoed off the valley walls, then a second. Walker's front seat passenger was driven against the front fender of the cruiser. The shepherd had emptied his double-barreled shotgun into the man. Walker raised his pistol and fired at the shepherd, missed, and tried again, the slide locked back. He dropped his pistol and began to scamper back down the slope.
Jack leaped out of the now flaming vehicle and shouted, "I'm out of ammo, get him." He slung the useless Škorpion towards the streambed and pulled the Tokarev from his waistband and fished in his pocket for a fresh magazine.
Amadeo aimed and fired, his shot went wild as he was knocked to the ground by a panicked sheep. Jack followed up with a couple more shots before he was forced to jump back to avoid a charging ram.
Walker ran clear of the flock and raced down the road. Amadeo scrambled around trying to find his Tokarev in the dust stirred up by the stampede.
Walker made it thirty-meters. A bundle of brown and black fur — the shepherd's huge Kangal dog defending its territory — slammed into him and knocked him to the gravel. Walker stuck his arm out to fend off the attack. The beast tore at his flesh and drug him off the road onto the steam bed below.
"Come on let's get the hell outta her before the truck goes up," yelled John.
Jack and Amadeo headed for the sedan and paused before closing the rear doors.
"Brutal way to die," said Jack.
"Those mutts mean business," said John.
"So did the shepherd, he saved us," said Amadeo.
John put the car in gear and accelerated through the remaining sheep. The shepherd fired again, pellets pinged off the trunk-lid.
Amadeo leaned over the front seat and asked Ronni, "You alright?"
"My leg … is bleeding again."
"Pull over. Ronni to the back seat," said Amadeo. "I'll put on another dressing." He looked back at the flaming Gaz-69. The medical bag was still in the vehicle, then it dawned on him, so was the electronic board and the tape. "We don't have a medical kit. How far to the next town?"
Jack answered, "Half-hour or so."
John braked and pulled to the side of the road. "Got a b
asic kit in my bag." He glanced up at Jack in the rearview mirror. "Change places with her while I get it."
Jack helped Ronni to the back seat. "That a gunshot wound?"
"A piece of metal from the door."
"Saw the bullet hole — looked nasty. Bandits?"
"No." She grimaced as she slid into the back seat. "Syrian Mukhabarat."
Amadeo snapped, "You didn't tell me that."
Jack looked back down the road. "They with Walker?"
"No. After the revolution, the Syrians have increased surveillance on Kurdish groups in Iran. They also check on foreigners suspected of helping them. I travel through Syria to Beirut several times a year. They must have become suspicious for some reason."
"Think they may still be following?"
Amadeo answered, "Don't think so. She sprayed 'em with the Škorpion. Took out the radiator and the driver."
John returned with the kit. "Let's get on the road. You can tell your war stories later.
* * *
John pulled over and parked off the main street in the grey grimy provincial town of Yüksekova. The twenty-minute trip from the ambush site had been uneventful. No one was following, and the police had yet to respond. John decided they needed to switch vehicles.
"Okay, everybody sit tight," ordered John. "I'm going to find us another ride. Richards, you hang loose around the car and keep an eye out for trouble." He slipped him the Beretta. "Ruiz, you go find a clean outfit for the lady, everything we've got is way too large."
Amadeo eyeballed Ronni and grimaced. "Not sure I can figure out the sizes in Turkish."
Jack said, "Get her one of those one-size-fits-all chadors. Don't think anybody around here will notice the difference."
"I will notice, if you don't mind," said Ronni. She glanced down at her bloody robe. "I would go, but it would attract attention."
"Just do your best Ruiz," said John. He opened his billfold and handed him a wad of cash. "Here's some Turkish Lira." He got out of the car and headed down the street.
Ronni forced a smile. "Please remember I am Italian, style is important."
Fifteen minutes later Amadeo returned with a package. "This the best I could do."
Ronni opened the package and held up a bright red and yellow long-sleeved dress. The outfit was decorated with beads and sequins, with a red fabric belt, and a green headscarf.
"Very nice, a traditional Kurdish gown," said Ronni. She forced a smile. "Thank you."
Amadeo grinned. "Figured the maroon would be best if you started to bleed again."
"You are so thoughtful. Now, where am I going to change?"
"The shop is right around the corner," said Amadeo. "The clerk speaks a little Farsi, she said it'll be okay."
John arrived twenty-minutes later with a man driving a Renault station wagon. He got out and looked at Ronni in the back seat of the Anadol. "Bellissimo. Good job Amadeo."
He motioned towards the Renault. "I've hired this man to drive us to Van. I'll go ahead leave the car beside the road somewhere. There doesn't seem to be any buzz about the ambush back there, but it should hit the fan before long. We need to be long gone by then. Any questions?"
Ronni asked, "What are we to do in Van?"
"Don't know about you lady, but we're going to catch the first plane out to Ankara or beyond."
She looked at Amadeo with a furrowed brow, "Is it training, or does it come naturally?"
Amadeo laughed, "With him it's all natural."
"What are you talking about?" said John.
She looked him straight in the eye. "The chauvinist macho man act."
John stepped forward, took her hand, kissed it, and spieled off a stream of melodic Italian as he gazed into her eyes. She responded with a school-girl smile.
Jack shook his head and spoke to Amadeo. "Looks like you've been sent to the sidelines."
Amadeo breathed a sigh of relief. Problem solved.
John kissed her hand once more and said, "Ruiz, you come with me, we'll go ahead. Richards. Make sure this guy doesn't follow too close."
They loaded up and a minute later stopped at the intersection with the main road. A convoy of Turkish Jandarma roared past with sirens blaring towards the border.
"Looks like we got about twenty minutes to get rid of this car," said John.
"You realize the tape was in the jeep, don't you?" said Amadeo. "And the board from the missile."
John was remarkably calm. "We'll deal with that later, now we gotta concentrate getting out of Dodge."
Five miles north of town, John pulled over and stopped outside a small village. The Renault rolled to a halt behind them.
"I'll leave the keys in the ignition and hopefully this piece of junk will find a new home."
Amadeo got out and glanced back down the road. "Looks like the coast is clear."
John examined the holes in the trunk of the car. "Looks like double-aught from a ten-gauge. That shepherd meant business."
"Fortunate, he didn't aim any higher."
"At least we're luckier than Walker." He shook his head, "Nasty way to die, but in any case, the SOB deserved it."
As they walked back to the waiting Renault, Amadeo said, "What's with the Italian? Didn't know you spoke the lingo."
"Spent a year at Vicenza back in the early sixties. Best non-combat duty ever. Almost got married."
"What happened?"
"Had a chance to deploy to Southeast Asia and took it. She didn't take it well…"
Amadeo nodded towards the car. "What do you think of this one?"
"Let you know in the morning."
27 ~ Van
Friday PM, 11 November 1979: Van, Turkey
Jack and Amadeo sat in the small hotel restaurant nursing their third cup of thick Turkish coffee. They had arrived late in the evening after a ride dominated by John and Ronni's tête-à-tête in Italian. The lovers were still upstairs.
Jack examined the Turkish Airlines schedule obtained from the front desk. He was uneasy about hanging around the area too long. Eventually, the Turkish authorities would expand their search for the persons involved in the shootout. He closed the brochure and said with an air of resignation, "Next flight out is tomorrow morning at ten-thirty."
Amadeo sat silent, engrossed in his thoughts. Losing the tape still bothered him. The mission was a failure. He hated failure, it burned inside, and it showed.
"Give it up," Jack spoke with a sharp emphasis. "Worrying won't bring back the tape. Besides, it might not have been the same signal."
Amadeo took another sip of the strong brew and eyed Jack. "A lot of trouble for nothing. Only thing we got to show for it is a string of dead bodies."
"And they didn't deserve it? You know what Ross says, 'Kill or be killed.' Anyway, it's over."
Amadeo started to respond but cracked a smile as John entered the room. He was carrying a red shoulder bag with a Turkish Airline logo.
"Here comes Romeo."
John sauntered over to the waiter and placed an order before joining them at the table. He pulled out a chair, sat down, and rested the bag on the floor. His expression was ambiguous.
Jack first glanced at Amadeo and then said, "Next plane is tomorrow morning."
John nodded but didn't speak. The waiter arrived moments later with coffee and he took a sip. True to form, the veteran special operator played it cool, waiting for someone else to speak first.
After an awkward silence, Amadeo said, "You gonna call Wilson?"
John sat the cup down. "We'll call him from Ankara — on a secure line." His expression didn't change. He hailed the waiter again and reminded him that he had ordered an omelet.
Jack and Amadeo's curiosity were in overdrive. They wanted to find out how it went last night but knew better than to ask.
Jack broke the ice by asking, "What's with the bag?"
"Went out for a little walk this morning and picked it up at a shop down the street."
"Any word on the street about yesterday?" sa
id Jack. "Did you check the newspapers."
John reached down and pulled out a local tabloid daily and handed it to Jack.
He surveyed the front page. "You know I don't read Turkish."
"Down in the right-hand corner. A blurb about an attack by Kurdish separatists. Seems they escaped to the hills."
Jack handed the paper to Amadeo. He laid it on the table without looking at the article.
John continued, "They only mentioned three dead. Seems I remember four men in the car."
"Wonder if Walker got away," said Jack.
John shrugged. "Could be. Last I saw was him rolling down the stream bank with that dog after him."
The omelet arrived. John took a bite and smiled. "Fresh eggs, they know how to do it right."
Amadeo had enough and blurted out, "She coming down?"
"You know how women are…" He let it hang without giving a full answer and took another bite.
Amadeo picked up the newspaper, leafed through the pages, folded it, and laid it back on the table.
"Jack asked, "Nothin' about the Dolphins?"
"Too much to ask for. Don't even know how they did with the Oilers last weekend."
Jack's eyes shifted to the entryway. He grinned. "Here she comes."
Ronni swept into the room, resplendent in her red and yellow gown. However, the look on her face was something else. She halted beside the table and unleashed a torrent of Italian, laced with colorful and obvious expletives. Even to the untuned ear the word, bastardo, was clear in meaning.
John sat unmoved by the tirade, focused on his omelet. He took a bite and ignored her.
"Lurido bastardo!"
At last John responded, "Non essere cosi emotiva."
Her face flushed with fury. "Hai rovinato tutto."
He looked up at her. "I haven't ruined anything. Get over it."
She wheeled and rushed out of the room. All eyes were on her.
Amadeo grinned. "You really know how to handle 'em, don't you?"
Jack said, "Glad she didn't have that little Beretta."
John picked up the bag and handed it to Amadeo. "Look inside."
Amadeo took the bag, unzipped it, and reached in. He pulled out an electronics board. Three unopened boxes of Agfa film sat on the bottom along with the Beretta.
"How did you know?" said Jack.
