Easy Day for the Dead (14 page)

Inside the room, a sleepy Revolutionary Guard sat in his chair. His AKM leaned against the wall. The Guard reached over and grabbed his rifle. Alex aimed and shot him twice in the upper torso and once in the head. The Guard tumbled out of his chair and onto
the floor. Alex continued forward into the room. Two of the three beds were empty. Alex recognized the middle-aged woman in the third bed as his target, Dr. Sheema Khamenei. Alex wheeled his pistol around in the scientist's direction.

Eyes wide open, Dr. Khamenei babbled in Farsi. Alex didn't understand it, but her lips slurred like she'd been drugged.

Alex aimed his pistol at Dr. Khamenei's forehead and squeezed the trigger.
Click
. Alex's pistol malfunctioned. Alex tapped the magazine on the bottom and racked the slide to fix the malfunction, but the slide didn't return forward properly. Probably two rounds had tried to enter the firing chamber at the same time—a double feed.
Damn!

Dr. Khamenei's voice rose in pitch, volume, and speed.

Leila had followed Alex into the room. “She says there is another biological weapons lab,” Leila translated. “More secret than the one near Abadi Abad, but in another location, and close to launching an attack on the United States.”

Alex pressed his magazine ejection button and pulled out the magazine. He racked his slide again. Then again. The jammed bullet popped out and the weapon was clear.

Dr. Khamenei's voice squealed louder and faster. She looked at the ceiling and cried out. Alex recognized only one word:
Allah
.

“Dr. Khamenei says a Russian, a North Korean, and Iranian scientists are at the top-secret lab,” Leila translated. “Dr. Khamenei didn't want to do this job, but the Iranian government is holding her husband hostage. God save me.”

Alex reloaded his magazine, tapped the bottom of it with his hand, and racked the slide. He aimed at Dr. Khamenei's forehead. “Where is the lab?”

“You must rescue my husband first,” Dr. Khamenei said in English. “Then I will tell you where it is. I will even take you there, if you want.”

“You're not in a position to negotiate,” Alex growled.

“Let Allah's will be done. I can't continue living this hell while I know my husband is dying in prison. If it's my time to die, I will die.”

“Shit!” Alex exclaimed. He turned to see what happened to Pancho, John, and the odd couple outside the room. Pancho and John had already dispatched the Guards and were putting them in two patient beds. There was a puddle of blood on the floor and blood spatter on the wall. Alex had been so focused on the Guard he shot, his weapon malfunction, and the target that he didn't even hear Pancho and John fire their pistols. Pancho covered the bodies with bedsheets while John guarded the door. “Guys, we're taking the doctor alive,” Alex said. “She's going to lead us to another lab.”

Pancho took off his bloodstained white jacket, strapped on one of the Guards' AKMs, and put on his jacket again. Then Pancho relieved John at the door. Alex and John armed themselves with the remaining AKMs and concealed their weapons with their white coats. Now Alex and his team had to get Dr. Khamenei out of the hospital. And out of Iran.

We are going to have peace even if we have to fight for it.

—
DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER, U.S. PRESIDENT

P
ancho headed out the door of Dr. Khamenei's room. Leila followed, helping Dr. Khamenei walk. Alex fretted, debating whether to just scoop the doctor up. She wasn't much faster than a two-legged tortoise. Although there were no Revolutionary Guards, there were people in the hall, and some of them were staring. Alex and his team couldn't run faster than their slowest person.

“Faster,” Alex said quietly. “Dr. Khamenei, you've got to walk faster so we can get out of this hallway and down the stairs.”

The doctor sped up a little, wobbling like she'd been heavily sedated—probably on purpose to keep her from escaping. Maybe the Guards had been there to prevent that just as much as to protect her.
Damn, she's slow.

Alex's eyes scanned the hall for a wheelchair, but there was none. He realized that walking down the stairs was going to be so slow, it would put them in more danger than taking the elevator. Also, if going down the stairs popped the doctor's stitches, they'd have even more problems. When Pancho turned back to see how they were proceeding and check for any communications, Alex said, “Take us to the elevator.”

They entered the elevator and went down to the second floor. “Stairs,” Alex said. When the elevator doors opened on the second
floor, Pancho led them out and through the doors to the stairs. The doors closed behind them. On the stairwell, they were protected from eyes in the hallway.

Alex gestured for Pancho to take a look on the first floor. Pancho went downstairs and peeked through the door window at the first floor. He climbed back up the stairs, looked at Alex, and shook his head. The first floor was too dangerous. Alex turned to John and said, “Take us to the elevator.”

John took them out of the stairwell, into the hall, and to the elevator. When the elevator door opened, two armed Revolutionary Guards stood inside—with similar heights and appearance, they looked like twins. The Guards noticed Dr. Khamenei, grabbed their AKM rifles, and proceeded to aim. John didn't hesitate. He lifted his pistol and fired. Alex had seen more than his share of close-up head shots, but two heads exploding in the space of an elevator was a shock even for him. The two soldiers slid down the back wall of the elevator, where their bodies slumped on the floor.

Alex and his crew stepped onto the elevator. The floor was slick with blood. Alex stood on one of the twins so everyone could fit in the elevator more easily. “Fourth floor,” Alex said.

Pancho pressed the number four.

“We can follow the fourth floor to another wing and find an exit there,” Alex explained.

The elevator stopped at the third floor and opened. A young couple started to enter the elevator when they noticed all the blood. Pancho put up his hands, gesturing for them to stop. Leila told them something in Farsi, and the couple backed off. The elevator door closed. Up it went.

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, and Alex's team stepped off. A group of women waiting to ride the elevator stared at Alex and his crew in shock. With blood all over the SEALs' white coats and their surgical masks, the SEALs looked like they had just finished
performing surgery. They passed the group of women. After a moment, one of them screamed—she'd seen the twin Guards.

“Come on, Dr. Khamenei, you've got to move it,” Alex pleaded.

Dr. Khamenei tried to hurry, but she stumbled, almost falling—Leila held her arm, steadying her. Alex, using a fireman's carry, hoisted the scientist on his back and carried her. Although now they could move faster, if they came under attack, Alex wouldn't be able to return fire quickly.

The fourth floor was almost as crowded with people as the first floor, but fortunately there were no Revolutionary Guards in sight.

Enemy AK fire sounded.

“Contact rear!” John shouted.

Alex wanted to turn, drop to the deck, and open fire, but he couldn't drop Dr. Khamenei without busting her stitches and spilling her guts all over the floor, so he hid around a nearby corner in an alcove. Pancho and John fired their sound-suppressed pistols while the enemy made a terrible racket with their AKMs. In the alcove next to him were two beds. He noticed the beds had wheels.
Hot damn!
Alex put Dr. Khamenei on a bed. There was a wet spot on the side of her stomach—blood. There was no gunshot wound; she was bleeding through her stitches. Alex looked around for gauze, but there was none. He folded the bedsheet into a giant bandage, placed it on Dr. Khamenei's bleeding spot, and told her to hold the sheet there with her hand. “Keep pressure on it,” Alex said. He grabbed the sheet off another bed and covered Dr. Khamenei, including her face, to hide her identity.

The firing stopped. Alex poked his head out into the hall. Bodies lay on the ground in the distance, a number of them civilians. Alex, Pancho, and John played dirty, but they didn't kill innocent bystanders. The civilians were mowed down by the Guards, who were now dead. Alex wheeled Dr. Khamenei out. “I need you to push this,” he told Leila.

She did.

Alex's team resumed their escape, but now they were moving at least ten times faster.
We just might make it out of here.
They passed a tall woman lying facedown on the floor—her blood formed a small puddle around her head. An elderly man walked in a daze with a bloody shoulder.

“Contact rear!” John shouted.

Damn!
Alex and Pancho quickly turned about-face.

“Pancho, take Leila and Dr. Khamenei, go to the first floor, and wait,” Alex said.

“Aye,” Pancho said.

“Be careful,” Leila said to Alex. Then she hurried off with Pancho.

A shot popped the air next to Alex's head. Either it was a lucky shot, or these guys weren't the average Guards—Alex suspected the latter. About thirty-five yards in front of Alex, three combatants in plainclothes used walls for cover while firing at the SEALs—the bad guys were firing in a rhythm, so that when one reloaded, the others fired. There were no lulls in the heat they delivered. John had already taken shelter behind a wall, and Alex followed his example. Just as Alex took cover, a chip of wall hopped out near his face.

Alex popped out and fired back, trying to shoot the bad guys in the upper torso, shoot them through the wall, and skip rounds off the wall to take them down. Alex thought he recognized one of the three—an adversary he'd fought years ago in Iraq: Gholam Khan. John fired a staccato of bullets at Khan and his men.

Alex took cover in an alcove and removed his jacket. He unslung his AKM and brought it up to his shoulder. The desire to kill Khan pumped adrenaline through Alex's arteries.

“Reloading!” John called out. Alex knew John would be taking cover while he was reloading.

“Die, you slick bastard!” Alex cried as he swung around the corner. In the absence of John's shooting, Khan and his men advanced
confidently—three against two, and submachine guns versus pistols. Khan and his men moved like they had superior firepower on their side. But Khan and his men had no idea who they were up against, and they had no idea that Alex and John were armed with AKM assault rifles. In contrast to Alex's quiet sound-suppressed Zoaf pistol, his AKM assault rifle roared—and in contrast to the Zoaf, the AKM delivered a wicked bite. Alex fired three rounds in rapid succession. The first round struck low and to the left of Khan. The second caught Khan in the chest, knocking him back a step. The third went high and right. Khan stumbled backward over his men trying to find cover from Alex's onslaught.

John appeared with his AKM firing in rapid succession. Khan staggered into a side room, and his two buddies must have realized how exposed they were, because they followed him. John skipped a round off the wall that nailed one in the right ass cheek—he howled in pain.

Alex wanted to stay and fight Khan, but even if Alex killed him, reinforcements were surely on their way. Alex's ammunition wouldn't last long, and dying in Tehran was not a mission objective. “John, drop smoke,” Alex said.

“Dropping smoke,” John repeated. He stopped firing and popped a smoke grenade directly in front of their position. Soon the hallway filled with white smoke and Alex could no longer see Khan and his men.

P
istachio pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “I can't believe they shot me in the ass.” He looked at his wallet: the hole went completely through. He grunted. “And the bullet is still in my ass!”

Major Khan looked down at his chest—a metal piece of GPS electronics stuck out of it. When he lifted his arm, electronics shifted in his chest pocket like loose change. The major pulled the bloody piece of metal out. He remembered the face of the man who just shot him. He knew the shooter from Kahar, Iraq, when the major had the green-faced devil in his sniper sight. Green-Face moved just before he took the shot. He was the same green-face who slaughtered his Shiite militia, the same man who had killed his beloved Abubakar. Major Khan's militia reported that this green-face's name was Alex Brandenburg.

Major Khan looked at the smoke ahead of him in the hall—he couldn't see anything beyond it. The major could charge through and hope he didn't run into an ambush or booby trap, or he could be cautious and wait until the smoke receded before proceeding—not that he was afraid of death. On the contrary, part of him welcomed death. Major Khan simply wanted to die under his own terms.

“That bastard shot you,” Lieutenant Saeedi said. “Nobody shoots
my friend and lives to tell about it—nobody!” He rushed down the hallway toward the smoke.