Chapter Thirty-six

 

 

Thirty miles north of Ghourian, Afghanistan

Ten miles east of the Iran-Afghanistan border

 

Justin tried to wrap the headdress around his face to stop the grains of sand from entering his mouth. The attempt was useless. The wind gusts, which changed direction from one moment to the next, stirred the fine sand coating the jagged rocks. He spat grit and dust, then wiped his lips with the fold of the headdress. He turned slightly to the right and leaned closer to Carrie, lying three feet away from him. “How are you doing?”

“Better than you, it seems.”

“Yeah, up here, I’m eating dirt with every breath I take.”

His vantage position offered him an unobstructed view of the narrow dirt road meandering through the rugged mountains and hillsides. They were about seven hundred yards from the road and perhaps one hundred yards up the steep hill. Sparse and scraggly bushes offered little protection, so Justin and Carrie had been forced to move their position farther back from the edge of the cliff. Still, behind the sight of the McMillan TAC-50 anti-personnel sniper rifle, he was quite confident that he could hit the targets.

If they ever showed up.

According to the intelligence secured at the last moment by a CIA asset and confirmed by Reza, Doma’s convoy of about ten vehicles had left their stronghold in south Turkmenistan earlier that morning and was supposed to reach this area around three in the afternoon. It was almost five, and there had been no sign of any convoy, apart from the occasional vehicle or shepherd moving their flock across the dusty road.

Justin was not worried about himself, Carrie, or the rest of his eight-member team. Patton and two operatives from the CIA’s Special Activities Division, or SAD, were across the road and about fifty yards farther south. Reza Ahmadi and two of his compatriots were hiding at a distance of a hundred yards, down at the road level, by a clearing where the team’s two SUVs had been parked. Everyone on Justin’s team was an experienced professional. They had spent countless hours on similar assignments, waiting in the scorching sun for the arrival of their targets.

What preoccupied Justin’s mind was the considerable delay. The team had no assets or contacts in Turkmenistan or Afghanistan to confirm the whereabouts of the convoy, whether they had crossed into Afghanistan, had turned around, or had chosen another dirt road to make their way to Ghourian, if that was still their destination. There were many trails that snaked through the mountains, and the Taliban and local tribesmen fighters were very familiar with these routes. Since Justin’s team could not watch them all, they had decided to make their stand at the largest route, the one most commonly traveled by heroin and opium smugglers and terrorists. “We’re going to wait until they come,” Justin had told his team members, and he was going to stay true to his word.

Still, the convoy’s delay was not the most pressing matter. He raised his eyes toward the horizon on his left, in the direction of Iran. If the delay continued for another hour, it might cause the most crucial piece of his plan to disappear. Without it—the ace up his sleeve—the entire plan would fall apart. Justin did not like the three-to-one or perhaps even four-to-one odds against his team. He might be forced to abort the mission at the last possible moment, while it would still be safe for the team to withdraw safely and return to Iran.

“Justin, what’s going through your mind?” Carrie asked.

He sighed, then tapped his throat mic and turned it off.

Carrie did the same, so the rest of the team would not listen in to their conversation.

“The Iranian. What happens if he doesn’t show? Or if the target is late?”

“We have his word of honor. He’s not going to bail out. The delay ... that is a problem. But we still have time.”

“Barely.”

“Another sixty minutes.”

“Yes, but every second he’s out there, he risks being discovered. He can’t hang out there forever.”

“Positive thoughts, Justin—”

“Carrie, this isn’t a training—”

“I think I’m aware of it.” She tapped her sniper rifle, the same make and model as Justin’s. “Same principle applies. We believe this is going to work until we find out it doesn’t.”

“Then what? Do we attack anyway, without any support?”

“I’d advise against it. The odds aren’t good, and we’re not prepped for a prolonged battle.”

Justin nodded.

Carrie said, “We can set off the IEDs, fire a few rounds, and that’s about it. We’ll be very lucky if that’s enough to kill Doma.”

The remote-controlled improvised explosive devices were Plan B. Crude, but efficient. A series of landmines strung together and wired to pressure plates and a battery-operated detonator for the electric spark. As soon as a vehicle came within ten feet, it would set off the mines.

“You’re right. I’m not sure it’s worth being hunted down through this Taliban-infested region.”

“I can’t agree more.”

“I’ll check to see if anyone has anything.” He turned on the mic.

Carrie nodded.

Justin doubted there was going to be anything new since he had last checked fifteen minutes ago. But it gave him something to do, so he could feel useful and fill the time.

As expected, everything was quiet. He placed his eye on the rifle’s tactical 2.5x50 scope, which used enhanced optics and magnification to bring everything close. A thin layer of dust was swirling on the narrow road. A small bird, or perhaps it was a rodent, rustled in one of the few thick bushes along the edge of the pass. Justin’s team had picked one of the few narrow passes, almost the perfect place for an ambush.

Seconds stretched to painful long minutes as the team waited under the scorching sun. At the half an hour mark, Justin checked again with the team, expecting the same negative replies. He was extremely surprised when Patton’s voice rang in his earpiece, “Justin, we’ve got something.”

“What is it?”

“Gray truck. Machine gun mounted in the back. Single vehicle.”

Justin shook his head, the enthusiasm choking in his throat. “That’s not our guy.”

“Wait, not so fast. Let me check ... yes, there’s a second vehicle. White SUV. About fifty yards behind the truck.”

Carrie said, “They’re trying not to draw attention, as if they were not a convoy.”

The spark returned to Justin’s eyes. “Too late for that. Is there a third vehicle?”

“Affirmative. And a fourth one, albeit quite far back.”

“They’ll be here in no time,” Justin said. “Reza, do you copy?”

“Yes, yes, every single word.”

“Good. It’s time to call in the pilots.”