Sword Point (44 page)

Everything was spinning, and the back of his head hurt. Ilvanich had not felt that bad since his first true drinking bout as a cadet. The glare of the sun did not help his blurred vision. As he sat up, he saw others standing around him. “What happened?”

The answer, given in English, was a shock. “You are a prisoner. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Ilvanich turned to see who was speaking. The images were still blurry.

The one image that was not blurry was the muzzle of a rifle less than an inch from his nose.

The speaker asked again, “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Still befuddled, Ilvanich answered without thinking, “Nikolai Ilvanich, junior lieutenant, no, lieutenant, Red Army. Who are you?”

A new voice from behind him spoke. “Sonofabitch, he does speak English.

See, I told ya, Hal. Most of ‘em do.”

Ilvanich’s vision cleared. A group of Americans stood near him, a guard in front of him, a second guard farther back with his rifle at the ready, and two men who were apparently officers squatting down beside him. Ilvanich turned to see a third guard and another officer behind him. Americans.

The younger officer in front smiled and said, “Give that man a cigar.

OK,

Ivan, what are you doing here?”

Defiantly Ilvanich asked, “Where is the man who was with me?”

Again it was the younger officer who spoke. “He’s with your major.

Took a bayonet in the side. He’ll be all right, if you cooperate.”

Letting his astonishment show, Ilvanich shot back, “Major? Is he alive?

Where is he?”

“Not so fast, Ivan.”

Regaining his composure and going back to the attack, Ilvanich replied,

“Ilvanich, Lieutenant Ilvanich. What is your name and rank?”

Cerro considered the Russian before him. He was a hard cookie. The direct approach didn’t seem to work. Maybe he could soften him up some. Perhaps little give and-take. “Lieutenant Harold Cerro, U.S.

Army. Now, what are you doing here?”

“Before we talk anymore, I must see my major.” I must maintain the upper hand, Ilvanich thought.

The younger officer, the lieutenant named Cerro, seemed to be in charge.

Ilvanich kept looking at the other officer, the one with the insignia of an

American major, who said nothing. Nor could Ilvanich detect any signals between the lieutenant named Cerro and that major. Perhaps he wasn’t in command.

The one named Cerro turned to the major. “I suppose it won’t do any harm.

What do you think, Commander?”

He is in command, Ilvanich thought. How strange, though-the lieutenant did all the talking. He must be intelligence or
CIA
.

Ilvanich was led to the
KGB
major. A medic and a guard were attending him and the man who had accompanied Ilvanich. The
KGB
major looked bad, very pale and in pain. When he saw Ilvanich he tried to speak, but could not.

Ilvanich knelt down next to him and looked at the wounds. The dressing was clean and neatly tied off. Ilvanich turned to the medic, a young black soldier. “Will he live?”

The medic looked at Ilvanich, surprised that he spoke English. Without a second thought, he began to talk. “He was hit twice by small-arms fire, in the side and the right arm, and he took a fragment, probably a grenade, in the left leg. He’s lost a lot of blood, but no major arteries were severed.

He was already in shock when we found him, but he seems to be responding well. If we can keep tine infections down, he’ll do OK.”

The American in attendance had to be a doctor. How strange that such a small unit should have a doctor. “The other man, how is he?”

The American doctor looked at the private who had come with Ilvanich.

His arm was in a sling. “He’s in good shape. His backhand ain’t gonna be what it used to be, but he’ll get used to it.”

The American guard laughed at that.

American humor, no doubt, Ilvanich thought.

The doctor said to Ilvanich, “Let me see your head.” He looked at where

Ilvanich had been hit. “Hell of a bump. Cut too. I’ll clean it.” He opened his medical bag and worked on Ilvanich for several minutes. When he was done, he handed Ilvanich two white pills. “You’re gonna have a helluva headache. Take these.”

Ilvanich looked at the pills suspiciously. A drug to make him talk? He took them in his hand and thanked the doctor before he was led away.

While he walked, he let the pills drop to the ground when he was sure no one was looking.

Ilvanich was taken to where Cerro sat alone. Cerro dismissed the guard and asked Ilvanich to sit across from him. Deciding that there was no time to play games and that the Russian was better trained to play them, anyhow,

Cerro went straight to the point. “Lieutenant Ilvanich, I know why you’re here. You’re after the Iranians making the atomic bombs, just like us.”

Ilvanich was taken aback by Cerro’s statement. He shot back, “I do not know what you are talking about. We were on patrol.” “Bullshit, Lieutenant. My explosive-ordnance expert 317 found your explosive-ordnance expert’s tools on the helicopter your major was on,”

Cerro countered.

The American is after something, Ilvanich thought. But what? If he knows what we were up to, what more does he need? To Cerro, “And if we are, what does that mean to me? I am your prisoner.”

Cerro thought for a minute. Years of training had taught him not to trust

Russians. If he told the Russian everything, he would be giving classified information to the enemy. But there was little choice. His men could not pull off the raid on their own with the little information he had. It was a gamble, but perhaps the Russian had information, and maybe, just maybe, he would cooperate. Kinsley’s far-out idea didn’t seem so far out anymore.

“We need each other. The people I was supposed to meet ran into your major and his helicopter. Apparently they left after they fired up the helicopter. I have the men to pull off the operation, but I don’t know anything about the Iranian installation, troop strength or layout. If you have this information, we can work together.”

“What makes you think I might have any such information? I am, after all, only a lieutenant, like you. Besides, we are at war with each other. To tell you anything would be treason. Surely you know that.

You are a soldier. ”

Cerro became angry. “Yeah, I know that, Ilvanich. But I also know that we, both you and I, are at war with Iran. I also know those crazy rag heads have an atomic bomb. They tried to use one on us already.

Your people may be next. Do you know what that means?”

Ilvanich thought before he answered. What a strange situation. Three countries at war with one another. Two men, each trained from childhood to hate and distrust the other. Now one was asking the other to trust him.

Ilvanich said to himself, I wonder what Lenin would have done. Then to

Cerro, “And if we do cooperate, what will happen after the raid? Do we start killing each other again?

“Good question,” Cerro said. “No, at least not right away. I propose we simply withdraw from each other. I let you and your people, along with your wounded, be extracted, and you let me and my men go.”

“How do I know you will do this when we are of no further use to you?”

“You don’t-at least, not for sure. Just like I don’t know for sure if you’ll let me go. You’ll have to accept my word.”

“And if you are killed, what good is your word?”

“Lieutenant Kinsley will honor our agreement.”

Ilvanich was confused. Why was the lieutenant doing this? “What about your major? What does he have to say?”

Cerro looked at him, bewildered for a moment, then smiled. “Oh, you mean

Lieutenant Commander Hensly. He’s Navy. He’s my bomb expert. He has nothing to do with running the operation, just checking out the bomb and showing us what to blow. ”

“Like my bomb expert,” Ilvanich enjoined.

“Yeah, like yours. Is it a deal?”

How strange war is, Ilvanich mused. “You realize we may be killing each other in another week.”

Cerro looked him in the eye and returned, “If we don’t pull this off, none of us may be around in a week.”

Time is everything: Five minutes makes the difference between victory and defeat.

-
ADMIRAL
HO
RATIO
NELSON

Robat-a Abgram, Iran 0150 Hours, 19 July (2220 Hours, 18 July,
GMT
) The two lieutenants crept along the ditch to get a closer look at the buildings in the center. The darkness made their advance easier. Five hundred meters away six men, three American, three Soviet, waited for the return of their lieutenants. After agreeing to work together, the two commanders had decided that a recon of the site was needed. That would mean delaying the attack until the next night. They had, however, decided that the intelligence gained was worth the risk. As Ilvanich pointed out, time spent in reconnaissance was time well spent.

The men of both units were uneasy about the coalition formed by their commanders. It was, as one American had said, “unnatural.” The two lieutenants, however, endeavored to impress upon their men the nature of the mission and what it meant if they failed. With great reluctance, the two units had merged, in a way. Each group had gravitated to one side of the oasis and posted guards, half of whom watched outward to protect against the Iranians and the other half inward, to protect against their new

“ally.” Even as they approached the Iranian compound, the close proximity of their new comrades caused more concern than did the threat of an Iranian ambush.

The two officers came to the end of the ditch. Slowly, they peered over its lip and looked around. Twenty meters to their front was a large building.

Light came from several cracks in the boards and from a window. Iranian guards, weapons slung and appearing quite inattentive, paced around it.

Cerro whispered, “That’s got to be it. Wish we could get closer, but it’s too risky. Let’s go back.”

Ilvanich turned. “I’ll go in. Stay here and cover me.”

Cerro grabbed his arm. “No, too risky.”

“We must know for sure. It will do us no good if we all run in here and hit the wrong building. I will go, you stay here, Cerro.”

“OK, but watch your ass.”

Confused, Ilvanich stopped and looked at Cerro. In a serious tone: “I cannot do that. You must.”

Cerro chuckled. “OK, I’ll watch it. Now go.”

Ilvanich watched until the guards were walking away from the near side of the building. Crouching low, he left the ditch and ran up to the building.

Once there, he flattened himself against the wall and froze, listening for any sign that someone had seen him. Satisfied he was undetected, he took his knife, turned around and stuck it into a crack between two boards, twisting it slowly to make a small peephole. When he thought it was large enough, he pulled the knife out and peered in. He saw a room filled with metal casings, machine tools and electronic equipment.

Men in white coats walked about or worked on various electronic components. This was it. The assembly building had been found.

Satisfied, Ilvanich turned to go back to the ditch. As he did so, a guard came around the corner. They looked at each other for a moment.

The guard started to unsling his rifle. Instinctively, Ilvanich rushed him with his knife. The guard, however, hit him in the stomach with the rifle butt, sending Ilvanich sprawling on the ground. Ilvanich, his knife lost, looked up as the guard began to raise his rifle at him.

Suddenly, the rifle dropped to the ground and Ilvanich heard a gurgling noise. The guard slid to his knees, then fell over onto his face.

Behind where the guard had been was the figure of Lieutenant Cerro with a knife in his hand. He had cut the guard’s throat.

“Grab the rifle and cover the bloodstains.” Cerro pulled the guard’s body up and slung it over his shoulder, then headed for the ditch.

Ilvanich, now recovered, grabbed the rifle and spread sand over the pool of blood and a thin trail of blood as he followed Cerro. Once in the ditch, he asked Cerro what they were going to do with the body.

“We’ll take it with us. Hopefully his buddies will think he went A.W.O.L..” llvanich asked, “Awol what does that mean?”

“Deserted, over the wall, gone home to Mama. Now let’s get the hell outa

Dodge.”

Although Ilvanich had no idea where Dodge was, he got the idea and followed, covering up all traces of blood as Cerro dragged the body along the ditch.

Fifteen Kilometers Southwest of Robat-a Abgram, Iran 1805 Hours, 19 July (1435 Hours, 19 July,
GMT
)

Word of the run-in with the guard spread fast and did much to relieve the tension in both camps. Though the men still were cautious, they believed that what their officers told them about the operation was true.

During the morning the two commanders discussed what they had seen and what they knew from before, and formulated a plan. At noon, all the officers and the senior NCOs were briefed. Because the Americans had more men and firepower, they would provide the security and deal with the guards, just as in the original plan. There were four barracks buildings as well as an administration building that needed to be neutralized. Trenches and machine-gun pits ran at regular intervals between the bar racks buildings. Two work and storage buildings were in

the center. Ilvanich and his men, along with Lieutenant Commander Hensly, would go after those buildings.

While one platoon took on the barracks and trenches on the north side, and another did the same on the south, Cerro would lead a platoon to seize the barracks on the west and overrun the trenches there. Ilvanich and his men would move along the ditch the two lieutenants had been in the night before. When the attack began, they would move in and seize the work and storage buildings. Once they had done so, they would kill everyone there.

A special demolition squad of Americans and Soviets who knew how to handle demo would work for Hensly, destroying everything that needed to be destroyed. When they were finished, Ilvanich and his men would withdraw through Cerro. The platoon in the west would cover the withdrawal of the platoons in the north and the south. Cerro wanted to be in and out in less than fifteen minutes. Hensly, however, would make the final decision based on how much needed to be destroyed.