“Who the hell is this?” Meredith asked when they’d all strapped into the helo, John right beside her. She was looking at an IRGC officer, his arms zip-tied behind him, a lieutenant colonel if she remembered how their insignia badges worked.
The helo was twisting among the hills, low and fast. The MiGs were almost within range.
The senior chief said, “We took out a technical with a mounted fifty-cal that tried a few potshots at us. This guy came out of the bushes with his hands up. Speaks English, says he could help us, that he’s an officer. Thought he might be good intel, so we bagged him. If you’d rather we just shoot and dump him before we leave Iran, we can. Your call, ma’am.”
Jesus, Meredith thought, I have to decide this?
Whatever her decision, it had to be done quick. They were only a minute away from the safety of Iraqi airspace, racing against the MiGs. Meredith put a hand on John’s knee, asked him what he thought they should do with the IRGC man.
Dale didn’t immediately respond. He’d gone pale, staring openmouthed at the Iranian officer who sat bound across from him.
The Iranian officer asked for a set of headphones to speak on the IC. Meredith said it would be okay.
“You remember me, don’t you?” said the IRGC man once the mic was over his lips. He spoke with a cultured English accent.
Dale kept staring.
The Iranian officer then asked if one of the soldiers might unbutton the top two buttons of his shirt and hold it open for a moment so that the man could show them something. The SEALs thought this odd, but everyone agreed that it would be okay. He’d already been frisked.
“Put a light at the base of my neck,” the Iranian said. “Please.”
The light shone on a raised scar that went near the base of his ear, all the way to his sternum.
“Yeah,” Dale said over the IC then, “I thought that was you.”
“I’d shake your hand again,” the IRGC man said in his polite way, “but I seem to be otherwise engaged.”
“To put it mildly,” said Dale, slowly smiling. “But I don’t get it. What are you doing here?”
“My job was to catch you. And him.” He nodded toward Rahimi.
“Well, ma’am,” asked the senior chief, “what do you want us to do with him?”
She looked at Dale. “John—what’s going on? Who the fuck is this?”
Dale nodded toward the Iranian. “He’s the guy I waved to on the drone tape five years ago near Mosul. The one that made me a so-called security risk.” He looked up at the Iranian. “That caused me a shitstorm of trouble, by the way.”
“Sir, whatever your name is, you have no idea the trouble you’ve caused me,” Kasem answered.
Meredith borrowed the flashlight from Tex. She shone it into the Iranian’s face. “Who?”
“That man saved my life once upon a time,” the Iranian said, clarifying, squinting against the light. He looked at Dale. “I don’t suppose you’d care to do it again?”
“Who are you?” Meredith asked the Iranian, shocked.
“Lieutenant Colonel Kasem Kahlidi, at your service. I’m the former adjutant to the late General Soleimani of the Quds Force. I presume you’re more familiar with him.”
“Huh,” said Dale. “I always wondered what happened to you.”
The Iranian said, “The question still stands. Care to save my life again?”
“Why would we do that?” asked Meredith. “We killed Soleimani with good reason. We should probably kill his adjutant too.”
“Because,” he said with a nod toward Rahimi, who sat crumpled with exhaustion against his seat, “much like your man here, I’m willing to start working for you.”
Meredith looked between the faces of John and this strangely polite Iranian officer.
The senior chief looked at Meredith again. He shifted a boot to lightly kick her in the foot. “Ma’am, seriously. Need you to make a call. The border’s right up here. Is he a keeper?”
Meredith thought about it for a few seconds, looking between John and the Iranian. “Yeah,” she finally said. “One way or the other, they’re both keepers.”