SOUTH OF DASH BOLAGH, KURDISTAN PROVINCE, IRAN—19:10 / 7:10 P.M. IRST
Nir jumped from the back of the truck, and the rest of the team followed.
“Make sure we have everything out of there, then lock it back down,” he said. “I’m going to raise headquarters. I want everyone geared up, locked and loaded, and connected to the coms.”
“Root,” sounded throughout the group.
“Imri, go see if they happened to leave us some keys,” he said, knowing the chances were slim.
“Root.”
Stepping away from the truck, he said, “Term base, you there? Term Lead to Term base.”
Yossi’s voice came on. “Term Lead, this is Term base. Go ahead.”
“We have a problem. Our chauffeurs have abandoned us.”
“They what? Hang on.”
As Nir waited, he heard Yossi say, “Dafna, you and Liora need to get back here now!”
Imri trotted up to his side. “Not only are there no keys, but they cut the gas line. This truck isn’t going anywhere.”
Nir was about to curse when Yossi said, “Give me your coordinates.”
After checking his GPS, Nir rattled off a latitude and a longitude. “We’ve got a clear sky and a half moon, so we’ve got some light. It’s rolling hills and open spaces. I can just make out a decline, which makes me think there may be a stream or a dried wadi to the north.”
Yossi was always very hard on his keyboards, and Nir could hear him pounding away. “Okay, I’ve got you three kilometers directly south of the village of Dash Bolagh, just southeast of the border to Kurdistan Province. Unfortunately, I don’t see any way to get live eyes on you. No satellites around or available.”
“Do you see anywhere we can get some cover?”
“I don’t. They did a great job dropping you in the middle of nowhere. You’ve got a road to the west and the freeway to the north.”
“Okay. Hang on, Term base.” Turning to his team, he said, “I’m thinking we go northwest. See if we can get some cover there. Once we get near a road, maybe we can find someone who can be persuaded to let us borrow their car.”
“Root,” they all replied—except for Lahav.
“Wait a second,” he said. He dug around in one of his cargo pants pockets and pulled out a small black disc, then ran to a boulder to which he attached the object. When he came back, he said, “Okay, now we have eyes on the truck. We’ll know if anyone shows up.”
“Achla,” Nir said.
Yaron clapped the analyst on the back, which made him beam with pride.
Nir started moving and said, “Okay, let’s go.”
As they jogged along, he asked, “Term base, can you get our ride to pick us up here?” He already knew the answer he’d likely get from Yossi.
“Our foreign friends have strict orders that it must be SKP or not at all.”
Before they left Erbil, it was again made very clear that the CIA was doing the Mossad a huge favor crossing the border into Iran. They would risk going as far east as Sanandaj, Kurdistan Province, but absolutely no farther. This whole event had “international scandal” written all over it.
“And how far are we from Sanandaj?”
“You’re 130 kilometers from there.”
This time Nir did curse. There was no chance they could make that trip on foot, especially if people were on their trail.
“At least ask. And let the ramsad know what’s going on. Maybe he can pull some strings.”
This time Liora’s voice answered. “Will do, Term Lead.”
They hiked for about 30 minutes before Nir held up his hand. He moved his finger to his lips as he listened. From the south came the soft sound of engines. His view of them was blocked by the hills, but the low rumble made it clear diesels were among them. Nir waved his hand, and they began moving again.
“Stop, guys.” It was Lahav. His face was lit by the glow of a large cell phone as he moved next to Nir. “They’re at the truck.”
Nir counted three jeeps and three large transport trucks on the screen. But by the angles of other light beams, it appeared more were out of camera range. Troops were piling out of the trucks and lining up.
“Term base, this is Term Lead. We’re monitoring IRGC activity back at the truck. Multiple jeeps and trucks. At least 40 dirties, likely more.”
Once the IRGC soldiers were in position, a command must have been given because all the rifles were raised to firing position. Then the soldiers opened fire. For a full eight seconds, automatic weapons riddled the truck. The side panels and rear door splintered, then shredded, then disintegrated. The vehicle dropped suddenly as the tires burst.
As the Mossad agents watched what was almost their death, a faint sound—like the sound of a distant sparkler fizzling—reached their ears. The men were silent.
Once the firing stopped and the smoke cleared, they watched as the IRGC soldiers began to realize that the truck was empty. Where they’d expected to see mangled bodies, they saw only the detritus of their barrage. Hands started pointing as orders were given. The troops loaded back in the trucks while a handful of men began examining the area. It wasn’t long before their tracks were discovered and more pointing took place.
The picture flashed brightly once, then twice. The bearded face of a soldier who appeared to be in his mid-thirties filled the screen. His hand reached out, and he plucked up the camera. They briefly saw a flashlight before the screen whited out again. When the flashlight was moved, another face filled the screen, this one older with a thick, graying mustache. As he examined the camera, his expression turned from curiosity to anger. The camera dropped to the ground, then the picture went black.
“He owes the State of Israel 2,400 shekels,” Lahav said.
“Term base, how’s our transport looking?” Nir asked.
“Still a no go. The ramsad is trying to arrange an alternative. Right now, you’re on your own.”
“Keep me posted.” Turning to his team, Nir said, “We’ve got maybe 15 minutes before we have visitors. I don’t think it will be the full force at first, because they’ve got to find us. But they know the direction we’re going. Once we engage, I would expect that within ten minutes we’ll have 50 or more angry dirties on us.”
“We’ve got to get ourselves some cover,” Yaron said. “Or at least some high ground or something.”
“Unfortunately, we’re stuck on this moonscape.”
Suddenly, Imri shushed them. “Listen.”
Nir strained to register what Imri had picked up. Then he heard it. “What is that?”
“Think back to your kibbutz days.”
Imri was right. Nir had heard that sound every day growing up.
“Sheep,” Nir said with a grin.
Lahav rolled his eyes. “I hate to break it to you, but a bunch of sheep aren’t going to do much to stop bullets.”
“No, they aren’t. But if you weren’t such a city boy, you’d know that by this time of night, the sheep aren’t still out grazing. They’re back in their…” He left the sentence hanging for Lahav to finish.
“Pen.”
“Exactly. Due east, Imri?”
“Due east.”
“Lead the way.”
With Imri on point and Dima bringing up the rear, the Kidon agents and the analyst took off at a low jog, searching for the source of the bleating.