Under Siege (32 page)

They marched again.

By midnight DeWitt figured they had covered another eight miles, so they should be close. He could see the faint glow of lights in the distance. That could be Bandar-e. They hiked around a small point of land where the gulf had not worn down the edge of a ridgeline. Just beyond it they saw headlights coming toward them. They scattered and hit the dirt.

“They couldn’t have seen us,” DeWitt said on the Motorola. “Just hold your positions and don’t move. Could be a tourist or a fisherman or maybe a two-man army patrol. We hold steady until we see exactly what we have to deal with.”

Agri, Turkey

Lieutenant (J.G.) Chris Gardner flew his team into Ankara, Turkey, the same afternoon the other SEALs left for their assignments. From there they were shuttled by U.S. cargo plane to Agri, a modestly sized town in far eastern Turkey where the U.S. has a small base. They arrived just as it was getting dark and the choppers there were ready.

“We’ve worked it out with the local Turkish border guards and the Turkish Air Force,” Gardner told his four men. “There is little military activity in the region around Khvoy, Iran. The town is larger than we expected, more than two hundred thousand. Our contact lives just outside the main town to the south, so he shouldn’t be hard to find.”

They were in an Army Blackhawk, the same as the Sea-hawk SH-60 the Navy used. Gardner came back from the flight deck of the chopper. “Just talked to the pilots. The flight from Agri to the border is about seventy-five miles. We’ll slant southeast and it will take us a little over twenty-two minutes to get there. This bird travels at three-point-four-five miles a minute, or two hundred and seven miles an hour. Jaybird isn’t here, so I thought I should fill you in. From the border with Iran, we fly due east for twelve minutes and we’re there. We expect no Iranian air power up here, or ground fire problems, but we have one door-mounted machine gun just in case. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” Fernandez said. “Is this same bird going to fly
back over the border and wait for us to call him for a pickup?”

“That’s what the pilot told me. He will get a relay message from our SATCOM for the pickup. We’ll give him GPS coordinates when we want a ride.”

“I still feel naked without my gear,” Canzoneri said. “No combat vest loaded with goodies, no long gun, no grenades.”

“We’ll have to get by,” Gardner said. “I’ve never seen any military operation coordinated as slick as this one has been so far. First the flight to Ankara, then a plane waiting to fly us here, and our chopper warmed up and ready to go. Amazing. When the president orders something done, the generals and admirals jump to.”

“Be more amazing if we can find the fucking anthrax factory,” Rafii said. “I’m hoping.”

They took off then and slanted southeast toward Iran.

“Half-hour of flight time, then we get into action,” Prescott said. “Hell, I think I’ll have a little nap.”

They had been over Iran less than five minutes when the pilot called Gardner to the cockpit.

“Lieutenant, I’m seeing all kind of action down there. Looks like the war is still on. Lots of tracers, and what has to be artillery or rockets going off. Looks like a wavering main line of resistance down there. I haven’t seen any aircraft, but I’ve been checking some frequencies and there’s a lot of radio chatter. It sounds like it’s from aircraft.”

“They said there wasn’t any military action going on up here,” Gardner said. “Report this to your HQ and see what they know about it.”

The pilot made his transmission and got a response in his headset. He looked up at Gardner.

“Okay, they say they now have reports of heavy fighting in and around the town we’re heading for. Evidently there were two battalions there loyal to the old regime. They are fighting anyone from the new Council of Colonels.”

“How far to the town?”

“Another four minutes.”

Gardner looked at the ground. They had been hugging the landscape and were less than two hundred feet in the air. He saw tracers lancing across the ground, then a series of explosions that had to be artillery rounds walking up a ridgeline ahead. Two well-armed outfits down there were closed in intense combat.

“Turn us around, Captain,” Gardner said. “We can’t do our job in this kind of a situation. Get us out of here and back to Turkey.”

Bandar-e Bushehr, Iran

As the headlights came closer out of the gloomy night, Ed DeWitt scowled from where he and his team lay in the wet sand. It looked like a military Jeep. Then he was sure. A high-powered light snapped on and the big beam began sweeping the beach in front of the rig.

“Take out the light,” DeWitt ordered. At once, both of their MP-5s spoke on single shot and the light crashed. The driver must have cranked the wheel as the rig spun around in the sand. By then the MP-5s sounded again on automatic and lanced out three- and five-round bursts. The two men in the Jeep jolted to the side, then the rig stalled and the men flopped over the wheel, shot before they knew what had happened.

“Make sure, Tate,” DeWitt said.

Tate lifted out of the sand and ran forward. He stopped at the Jeep and touched the throat of the passenger. Dead. He moved to the second Iranian soldier just as the man lifted a pistol and swung it toward Tate. Tate fired his Glock three times, two rounds hit the Iranian soldier in the head and one in chest. He sighed and slumped back onto the steering wheel.

“Down and done,” Tate said. “We want transportation?”

DeWitt grinned. “Oh, yes. Wouldn’t hurt to get a lift for a few miles. We can dump it when it’s a liability.”

The SEALs ran to the Jeep, pulled the bodies out of it. and climbed into the back section. DeWitt drove. He turned the headlights off on the rig as soon as they started. He stayed on the hard sand, which gave better traction than the dry section. Two miles ahead, De Witt stopped. Ahead he saw what could only be an army camp. There were six or eight large tents, a parade ground layout with dozens of ghostly pup tents set up in straight rows.

“No lights,” Van Dyke said. “That’s strange.”

“I don’t see or hear any people,” Sadler said. “Looks like the place has been closed down or abandoned.”

DeWitt drove forward slowly. He came to the front gate. Just two poles in the ground with a tattered banner between them that was so faded he couldn’t read it.

Still no people.

He went down what appeared to be the main street through the camp. To the far side they saw two six-by-six trucks. He drove faster as he decided the place had been abandoned.

“So where did the two soldiers we met come from?” Mahanani asked.

“Probably up ahead somewhere closer to town,” Howard said. “From a permanent base that must still be manned.”

“This is spooky, let’s get out of here,” Tate said.

DeWitt agreed and speeded up and slashed through the rest of the camp and out another gate onto the flat hard sand again. Less than a quarter of a mile ahead they came to a road that angled down almost to the beach. It came up from the south inland somewhere and continued to the north. Now the lights of the town were easy to see, and De-Witt was about ready to stop and examine the maps they had been given. They had a street address, so maybe they could find the place in the dark. It was supposed to be somewhere just south of the main part of town.

“This looks like a city,” Sadler said. “How far in can we drive?”

“Until somebody challenges us or looks like they’re going to give us trouble,” DeWitt said. “Neal, see if you can read that map and find the street we need and how to get there.”

“No way in the dark bouncing around on this road,” Sadler said. “Pull over where we can use a flash and get ourselves oriented.”

“Yeah, good idea.” DeWitt turned off a short time later and halted well away from the road. They hadn’t met any cars, but now he saw two or three go by, heading into the city.

While Neal worked the map, DeWitt took the SATCOM out of its waterproof pack from his back and set it up. He got the fold-out antenna set up and angled it for a satellite.

“Team Two looking for Home Team Leader.”

He had to send the message twice before a response came.

“Yes, Team Two. How is it going?”

“On schedule so far. No landing problems and we’re almost at the city limits, trying to find the right street. Any other news?”

“Yes, Team Three got turned around in their chopper. Intense fighting between holdouts and the new regime where they were headed. So we’re relying on you two.”

“How is Murdock doing?”

“Making progress. Last report he was a couple of miles away from his target.”

“We’ll stay in touch. Out.” DeWitt hung up the handset and put the antenna away. “So how are you doing?” He asked Neal.

“It’s on this side of town. Damn big place. This south road is I-40 and it comes into Bandar-e at Twentieth Street. We stay right on Twentieth for what looks like half a mile, then turn left on Date Palm Street, which is where our address is. Can we drive all the way?”

“Unless we run into some army unit,” DeWitt said. “Let’s get moving.”

* * *

Nay Band, Iran

Murdock and his team had hiked halfway up the two-mile road and came to a slight rise. They stopped and looked ahead, where they could see reflected light coming over another hill.

“Must be the place,” Jaybird said. The men gave small cheers, glad that Jaybird was back in form.

A mile later the six men lay in the weeds and dirt on a hill overlooking the buildings below. Murdock was surprised at the size of the facility. There were three buildings, and all looked to be made of metal, with some kind of aluminum or sheet steel siding. All were one story. In front of one, the parking lot lights revealed eight cars. The SEALs were three hundred yards from the buildings.

“Anyone see any army or armed guards down there?” Murdock asked.

“I’ve got one guard on each building,” Lam said, looking through a scope. “They don’t look army, but they have rifles, probably AK-47s.”

Murdock looked at Masud. “You said there were tents?”

“Must have replaced them with the buildings.”

None of the structures had windows. “Does anyone see lights on inside any of them?” Murdock asked. Nobody replied.

“Okay, my guess is one is for supplies, one for the manufacture and storage of the anthrax, and one for sleeping and eating. Trouble is, we don’t know which is which.”

“Watch for doors opening,” Lam said. “Wouldn’t be lights on in the sleeping or storage shacks.”

They watched for ten minutes. Lam stood. “I’m going down. My guess is the place with the cars parked outside. Okay, LC?”

“Go. Be careful. Float like a butterfly.”

“That was what Muhammad Alli said along in the 1960s,” Jaybird said. “I’ll float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.”

“What a mind,” Lam said.

Jaybird threw his hat at Lam as he headed down the slope at a trot.

Murdock was concerned with the lights. Six tall poles held bright combinations of bulbs that lit up the hundred square foot area around the buildings like midday.

“We take the lights out before we go in?” Jaybird asked.

“Not if we want to surprise them,” Murdock said. “Depends on what Lam finds.”

Ten minutes later their Motorolas spoke.

“Yeah, it’s the one with cars. Got a small little peek inside. The place is mostly empty, but ten to twelve civilians are at work. I eliminated the three guards.”

“No army?”

“Didn’t see a single uniform. I’ll check the dormitory building to be sure.”

Five minutes later the Motorolas came on again.

“I’ve got a squad of seven soldiers and about ten more civilians sleeping.”

“Good,” Murdock said. “Stay there. I’ll send over Ching. When the game starts, gather up all the army weapons and march the soldiers and the civilians out of the building and down the road a half mile. Then tell them to hike into town.”

“I can do that.”

“We’re moving in. We’ll take the assembly building and get the Civilians outside and send them hiking to meet you.” Murdock stood and waved his men down the slope. All five of them would crash into the door at the same time and cover the civilians. Ching would then go to help Lam taking the workers with him.

Murdock and company jogged to the building unnoticed. Jaybird grabbed the door handle and looked at Murdock. He nodded. The door jolted outward and Murdock and the rest of them charged into the building. Murdock fired a burst of three rounds from the MP-5 into the ceiling.

There were four low tables with vats and heating devices and dryers and a dozen other mechanisms Murdock did not understand.

“Anybody speak English?” Murdock asked.

One woman in a white jumpsuit held up her hand. He motioned her forward.

“Yes, I speak English.”

“Tell them we will not hurt them. They are to leave the building at once and walk over to the bunkhouse where they will be escorted toward town.”

She spoke quickly in Farsi. One or two groaned, but she shrilled at them. Moments later they all had left. Murdock kept the translator with him.

“Miss, what is your name?”

“Kanza.”

“Kanza. You manufacture the anthrax here, right?”

“Yes.”

“Where do you store it?”

She pointed to the far end of the building. It had a floor-to-ceiling wall with one small door.

“Have any of you taken ill?”

“Yes, about half over the past year. We have to keep replacing workers.”

“Is there any finished anthrax on these tables?”

“No, just the start of a new batch.”

“Then nothing is dangerous out here.”

“No, we haven’t reached that stage on this batch yet.”

He looked around again. At the near wall and halfway to the far end stood a butane tank ten feet long and three feet in diameter.

“You use the butane to generate heat to make the anthrax?”

“Yes. This tank was filled yesterday, a thousand gallons.”

“It’s in liquid form, right?”

“Yes, I think so. It all goes through valves, then into special hoses that are fitted to the heating units.”