Chapter Twenty-eight

 

 

On the Outskirts of Marand

Iran

 

Mostafa nodded. “What you do?”

Jack shrugged. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He had no backup and very little hope of rescuing Bhada, even if she was still at the address. Farahani might have moved her or at least redoubled the guards, if he expected Jack to attempt a rescue. But Jack couldn’t give up. He had come so far.

He asked Mostafa to keep reading through the text messages in the hope of finding anything else that could be useful. The Iranian found numerous names and places, but there was nothing to connect them to the detained asset.

A plan had begun to crystallize in Jack’s mind. He’d need Mostafa’s help, but he wasn’t sure the Iranian would cooperate. He had been quiet for most of the trip and had been giving Jack distrustful glances. Jack knew he couldn’t ask Mostafa to go with him to the location. The agent couldn’t rely on the Iranian to put his life on the line more than he already had. He was terrified of the IRGC and for good reason.

They reached Marand without coming to another checkpoint. Jack was impressed at the large city of about two hundred and fifty thousand people. It had new, luxurious office towers and apartment complexes, but also rundown one-story cinderblock buildings. Jack took the backroads, following Mostafa’s instructions on his cellphone. When they came to Moallem Boulevard, about a kilometer away from Darvish Mosque, Jack stopped outside a supermarket. He had made a list of things that he needed for his plan to rescue Bhada. Mostafa still had some money left from what Jack had given him to purchase the Mazda. It was going to be sufficient for the supplies.

Twenty minutes later, they put everything in the backseat. Jack drove to a gas station not far from there, and Mostafa filled two jerrycans with gasoline. He placed them in the backseat next to the propane tanks and looked at Jack. Jack said, “I’m going to drop you off at that back alley.” He gestured with his hand to the right. They had driven through there for reconnaissance purposes when Jack was coming up with his plan. “You’ll have to look after Ali’s funeral.”

Mostafa nodded. His face formed a painful expression.

“Give me your phone.” Jack traded the dead guard’s phone for Mostafa’s. “Remain in that location for the next ten minutes, or until you see a vehicle approaching you, whichever happens first. Then knock on the door of the house and run as fast as you can. Don’t get caught.”

Mostafa nodded, but the look of despair remained on his face. Jack had tried to convince him to leave Ali’s body at the hospital or one of the mosques, but Mostafa didn’t want to abandon his friend until the very last moment. Jack understood and respected the Iranian’s loyalty.

Jack said, “This is the end of the line for you. I’m sorry about Ali and that things went this way. I never expected it.” He shrugged. “I have your phone, and I’ll get in touch about—”

Mostafa shook his head. “Forget me. No call. Leave me alone.”

Jack nodded. “Okay,” he said in a low voice.

They got into the Mazda, and Jack rounded the corner. He drove to the back alley sunken in darkness and parked in front of the house. The lights were on, and they had seen at least three people—all men—through the large windows. Someone would answer the door and look after Ali’s body while Mostafa disappeared. Farahani or his men—whoever was tracking the phone’s signal—would appear soon, especially after noticing that the signal had remained static for some time.

Jack helped Mostafa bring Ali’s body out of the Mazda’s trunk, and they lowered it onto the sidewalk. Mostafa shook his head and began to sob quietly as he sat next to his dead friend. Jack tried to find a word of consolation, but he didn’t really know what to say. He also felt that no matter what he said, nothing would comfort Mostafa.

Free of the tracking device, Jack headed toward Bhada’s location, which was about five minutes away. Enough for just one phone call, he thought. He dialed Riley’s cellphone number, and the young agent replied after the second ring. “Yes?” he answered in a hesitant voice.

“Riley, it’s me, Jack.”

“Jack, Jack? Oh, where are you? How are you?” Riley erupted in an enthused tone.

“Iran, but I’m okay.”

“Iran? How did you get there?”

“Farahani hit me on the head, and I lost consciousness. Maybe one of his cronies drugged me. I woke up in the backseat of an SUV, but I escaped.”

Riley didn’t say anything for a brief moment. Then he said, “Jack, you don’t have a gun pointed at your head, do you?”

“No, man. There’s no one here,” he replied with a hint of regret in his voice. “How are you doing? How’s the leg?”

“It’s fine. I’m still in Turkey. Look, Jack. A lot has happened since they took you. I’ve talked to Gilson and Morgan. We’ve assembled a team, and we’re searching for you along the border. We hoped you were still on this side. Where are you in Iran?”

“Marand. That’s where Bhada is.”

“Do you have her location? How did you find it?”

“Long story, Riley. But I’m going to get us out of Iran.”

“How?”

“I have a plan.”

“A plan? What plan? It’s just you against the IRGC.”

Jack nodded. “That’s all I have, Riley.”

“Jack, think about it. That’s suicide.”

“It might be, but I’m not going out as a coward. I’ll either come out of Iran with Bhada, or I won’t come out at all.”

“As stubborn as always,” Riley said in a voice full of exasperation.

Jack shrugged. “I do what I can. Now, listen, you said you have a team, right?”

“Yes. Harry is here, and he brought a couple of locals from Azerbaijan.”

“Good. Can you make it to the border with Iran and wait there?”

“Sure we can. When and where?”

“ASAP. Not sure where but away from the border crossings. Somewhere around Marazad or even farther east toward Siahrood.”

“That’s how you’re planning to get out?”

“That’s the hope.”

“Okay, Jack. I’ll let you get on with your plan, whatever crazy scheme that might be.”

“See you at the border, Riley.”

“Okay, Jack. Stay safe.”

“Yeah, you too, buddy.”

Jack hung up and drew in a deep breath. He looked at the jerrycans and the propane tanks in the backseat. Then he reached for the glass water bottle on the console and drank the last of it. A grin formed across his face. Yes, let’s get on with this crazy scheme.