Pandora's Grave (13 page)

“Dr. Moshe Tal?” the voice demanded, speaking English. Moshe rolled to his feet, his hands gripping the bars of his cell. “Here!”

More footsteps. Moshe blinked as a tactical flashlight was shone in on him. It played on his face for a moment while its owner apparently satisfied a question as to his identity.

“Stand in the corner of the cell, doctor. Keep your head down and cover your ears. I’m going to blow this lock.”

“Who are you?”

“Friends,” the voice replied with alarming ambiguity. “Now move it. We don’t have all night. Place the charge, sergeant.”

Gideon watched as Yossi shaped the plastic explosive with his hands, wrapping it around the crude lock. He could have shot the lock with his Uzi, but he had come too far to risk one of the bullets ricocheting and injuring Dr. Tal. Gideon shuddered at the very thought.

The Sayeret Matkal sergeant fixed a detonator to the charge and stepped back. “Charge placed, people. Stand clear.”

The team backed away while Gideon flashed the light in again on the man who had brought them all this way. He was squatted in the corner as instructed, his head tucked down. Clearly the archaeologist hadn’t forgotten his military training.

“Fire in the hole,” Yossi announced gravely.

“Fire in the hole, aye,” Gideon repeated as the sergeant pressed the detonator. The explosion echoed in the small confines of the trailer and the door went swinging inward, nearly ripped from its hinges.

Moshe felt a piece of the metal dig itself into his shoulder, but he ignored it with an effort.

Hands took hold of his arms, lifting him up. “Let’s go, doctor,” the voice ordered, low and urgent. He could dimly make out a man in commando uniform, but couldn’t see his face.

They turned him around and hurried him toward the door. That was when he realized what was going on. “My
team
!”

They ignored him. “You’re leaving them!” he protested, attempting to drag his feet on the smooth tile floor of the trailer.

The commando leader paused at the door, turning to face him. “We were sent to rescue
you
, Dr. Tal,” he stated bluntly. “My orders include no one else.”

And then they went out into the night…

6:25 P.M. Eastern Time

CIA Headquarters

Langley, Virginia

“I have something you need to see.” It was Ron Carter’s voice on the phone, its tone calm but unmistakably urgent.

“What is it?” Bernard Kranemeyer asked.

“An update on the sat shots Sorenson gave us.”

“I’ll be right down.”

“No need, boss,” the analyst replied. Vintage Carter, calm, cool, and collected. They hadn’t seen too much of that tonight. “I’m arranging a live stream to your terminal. Just sit tight.”

The DCS nodded, turning to his computer and switching the monitor on. A moment later the screen flashed to black and then the satellite imagery appeared.

“They’re still moving.”

“So much I see,” Kranemeyer replied, irritation in his voice. “Any idea where they’re going?”

“Every idea. Look to the right side of your screen,” Carter instructed. “Tell me what you see?”

“More thermal blooms. What is that—” Kranemeyer’s face lit up with a sudden realization. “The base camp! That stubborn son of a gun is still headed for the base camp.”

“I know. And that’s not all. See what you make of this.”

Another shot came flashing up on the screen, this time of the base camp itself. Figures were hurrying from one of the trailers toward two small vehicles parked on the edge of camp.

“What’s going on, Carter?”

“Wish I knew. I’ve ID’d the fast attack vehicles. They’re an American make, Chenowth Racing Products, Inc., built under license in Germany.”

“Exported to which countries?”

“Haven’t come up with that yet, boss.”

Kranemeyer studied the photograph for another minute. The night was going from bad to worse, spinning out of control. “I need to communicate with Nichols,” he said at last. “Right away.”

“Last I talked with Danny they’d been trying. He’s just not answering the phone.”

“Then find another way, blast it! Is there a way to override the vibrator on Nichols’ TACSAT?”

“I believe so. Let me have a chat with the boys over at S&T—the TACSAT-10 is their toy, after all.”

“No,” Kranemeyer replied, cutting the analyst short. “You’ll handle it. Find a work-around, but keep the circle close. Orders of the DCIA.”

“What’s going on?”

“That’s not your concern. Just play it close to the vest tonight, Ron.”

3:26 A.M.

The base camp

“All right,” Harry whispered, holding up his hand for a halt. He dropped to one knee behind a rock formation, the rest of the team forming in a huddle behind him. “This is where we break up. Go the rest of the way on our bellies.” He reached into his shirt and unfolded a small map. It was plain, no marks save those chiseled into his mind back in Washington.

“Intel says the hostages should be in one of these two trailers. They’re both in the northeast quadrant of the camp. I want them hit, fast and hard. If it’s carrying a gun, it goes down, just remember your fields of fire and stick to them. Tex, you and Davood take that quadrant. Hamid, I need you on the northwest. I’ll be coming in from due west. When you are in position, signify by toggling your mike switch twice. Other than that, maintain radio silence. No exceptions.” He glanced at the dark faces surrounding him. “Any questions?”

Davood nodded. “It’s going to be hard to stage this attack without using the radios. So why can’t we? Langley said they’re secure.”

“Langley also said the Iranians had no idea we were coming.” A grim smile creased Harry’s face. “The suits get it wrong from time to time. ‘Bout time you learned that. Radio silence. And for heaven’s sake, remember your fields of fire. Let’s roll ‘em.”

One by one, his team members slipped away into the night, leaving Harry alone again.

Time to move. He took his Kalishnikov in one hand, raising himself from behind the rocks. The camp was spread out below him, in a hollow of the valley, lab trailers ghostly white in the moonlight. His eyes swept from side to side, in an attempt to pick out the sentries he knew must be patrolling the perimeter.

Nothing. Only silence hung over the plateau. He crawled fifty meters, then covered behind a large rock, plucking a small pair of binoculars from a pocket of his combat vest.

His radio buzzed with static, then Hamid’s voice came through, loud and clear. “FULLBACK to EAGLE SIX, the camp is empty. No signs of life.”

“Confound it, FULLBACK,” Harry hissed, “you were told to maintain radio silence.”

“Roger that, boss, but it’s like a ghost town. Didn’t the tangos leave anyone home?”

Major Hossein’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. What was going on? He didn’t understand—the next words answered his question.

“Continue moving in on the base camp, EAGLE SIX?”

“Follow your orders, FULLBACK,” the American leader replied, anger clear in his tones. “Toggle mikes twice to signal your position. Now get the deuce off the air.”

“Roger, EAGLE SIX.”

Hossein spun into action, charging down the hillside toward the main body of his men, heedless of the American sniper who was still out there somewhere.

“I want twenty men back in the trucks!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the rocky slopes. “The Americans have tricked us.”

1:30 A.M. Local Time

Mossad Headquarters

Tel Aviv-Yafo, Israel

The helicopter settled down on the roof of Mossad HQ and General Shoham was out of the door almost before the rotors had stopped turning. A light rain was just beginning to fall and one of his aides handed him a poncho.

He brushed it away and strode purposefully to the side of the helipad, where he spied the watch officer.

“Any word on RAHAB?” he demanded.

The younger man shook his head. “Nothing since last contact at 2430. We’ve heard nothing from—”

His words were cut short as a door opened and slammed shut behind them, a young woman wearing a corporal’s uniform running onto the pad.

“Sobel! We just heard—” She stopped suddenly, in surprise at the general’s presence. “Excuse me, sir,” she continued, drawing herself up into front of Shoham and snapping off a sharp salute.

“You’re excused, corporal,” Shoham answered, smiling at her confusion. “Go on with your report.”

She nodded, pausing to catch her breath. “We just got a report from RAHAB over the satellite uplink.”

“And?” Shoham demanded, stepping closer to the corporal. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve secured SCHLIEMANN. Are proceeding to the extraction zone. That’s all.”

“No casualties?”

“None were reported, no, sir.”

“Everything’s proceeding according to plan,” the general said briefly, turning to the watch officer. “Give RAVEN the go-codes. Get in and pick them up.”

“Understood, sir.”

3:32 A.M. Tehran Time

Near the crash site

Major Hossein swore in frustration as the trucks ground their way up the mountain road, bumping and jouncing over the hard terrain. The Americans had outfoxed him once again. If it weren’t for BEHDIN…

He didn’t want to think about it.

The words, though, still puzzled him.
FULLBACK to EAGLE SIX, the camp is empty…it’s like a ghost town. Didn’t the tangos leave anyone home?

He had fought against the American forces in Iraq for long enough to know what was meant by “tangos”. Taken from the NATO phonetic alphabet, it was special forces shorthand for “terrorists”. They were talking about his base camp. Empty?

Thomas rose up from the rocks beside the road, his finger flicking off the safety of the AK-47 he cradled in his hands. Another fully-loaded Kalishnikov was slung over his back, both rifles he had taken from the Iranian soldiers he had killed.

The trucks looked brand-new, a Chinese make Thomas recognized vaguely from some Langley intelligence photos. The way their gears whined as they made their way up the steep mountain road, they weren’t likely to remain that way for long. His presence reduced that likelihood to a statistical impossibility.

The lead truck came abreast of his position and he could see the two figures in the cab, glowing green through the lens of his night vision goggles.

Now!

The windshield disintegrated before Major Hossein’s eyes under the impact of a short burst of gunfire, the sound of an AK-47 on full-automatic filling the air like the popping of firecrackers. The corporal driving let out a strangled cry and Hossein felt something warm and wet spray over his face. His hand came away sticky with blood.

The truck lurched to one side as the tire blew, careening off the road into the rocks. The driver’s body slammed into him as the truck turned over, pinning him against the door. He lay there, feeling the shattered glass dig into his flesh, the breath completely knocked from his body.

From the road above, the gunfire continued, but it was being answered now, as his men responded.
They need me
! His mind screamed, but he lacked the strength to answer that call. The corporal was dying, slowly, his body pressed against Hossein’s chest, blood dripping from his neck wound onto the major’s face. Above, the stars twinkled down through scattered clouds. And the gunfire continued…

3:34 A.M.

The base camp

Something had gone seriously wrong. The back of the young sentry’s head was blown completely away. Harry rolled the corpse onto its back, noting the single bullet hole squarely between the eyes. The mark of a professional.

Even trained soldiers were prone to firing more shots than absolutely necessary, making up what they lacked in precision with sheer power.

This man had felt no such need. A single shot had been required, and a single shot had been delivered.

A chill ran up and down Harry’s back, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with danger. There was the chance, slim though it might be, that the killer was still in the camp ahead of them. He toggled the mike, breaking radio silence. His team needed to know what they were up against.

“EAGLE SIX to Alpha Team. I’ve got a corpse on this side, single wound to the head. Do you copy?”

Tex’s typically gruff voice came on the air. “I read you, EAGLE SIX. Same situation over here.”

“Why didn’t you report it?” Harry exclaimed in frustration.

“Hey, boss. You order radio silence, and I no longer own a set.”

Harry nodded silently. “Fine. FULLBACK? Report in.”

“Somebody got in here before us, Harry,” Hamid stated bluntly. “I’m looking at a body. My gut tells me it won’t be the last.”

“We will be proceeding as planned. But be prepared for tougher resistance than we could expect from IRGC—” Harry stopped sharply, his ears straining to pick up the slightest sound. “What was that?”

“I don’t know, EAGLE SIX.”

He heard it again. A sound, born to him on the breeze. Coming from the interior of the camp. The sound of a woman weeping…

6:35 P.M. Eastern Time

NCS Operations Center

Langley, Virginia

“How’s it coming, Ron?” Kranemeyer asked, appearing suddenly in the door of his cubicle. Now in his mid-forties, the DCS still moved like an operator, as silently as a big cat on the stalk.

The analyst glanced up from his computer. “It’s coming,” he acknowledged grudgingly. “I’m going to need to hack the data encryption on the TACSAT. Or do you have the password to override?”

Kranemeyer’s brow furrowed for a moment. “Try eight-four-three-six-Redmond. I think that’s what the computer picked out for this month.”

Carter snorted, tapping the code into his system. “The computer’s got a sense of humor. This would have been a lot quicker going through Hadley’s tech-heads.”