Exit Plan (25 page)

Yousef leaned over and asked Shirin a question. “My husband wants to know what we should do about the car? A Basij patrol has seen it.”

Ramey nodded. “I was just about to get to that. On our way down to the road, we will stop and remove the license plates and then damage the car so that it looks like it has been vandalized. We can’t use it without drawing a lot of attention, and one of the patrols will eventually find it. By removing the identifying plates and damaging it, it will take the Basij and police longer to figure out that the car is yours. They’ll work it out sooner or later, but the longer it takes them, the better it is for us. Are there any other questions?”

“What about the weather, Matt? What do we do if we are out in the open and a shamal hits?” Jerry rarely trusted the accuracy of weather forecasts, and the worst possible time for a storm to hit would be while they were out navigating an unknown route in the dark.

“If the storm hits before we reach Akhtar, we’ll shift to a column formation and everyone will be tied together with a line. We’ll then seek immediate shelter. Anything else?” No one spoke.

Ramey stood up and tucked his weapon under his right arm. “Okay people, diamond formation just like before. Pointy on point, Doc has the backdoor. We move quickly, we move quietly. Let’s go.”

“Hooyah!” responded the SEALs. Shirin and Yousef looked on with confusion, while Jerry felt even more alone.

As they filed out of the cave, Phillips bumped up against Jerry. “Good question, XO. You’re starting to think like a SEAL.”

“God forbid,” Jerry replied with a slight smile. “I prefer my own brand of insanity.”

Phillips shrugged his shoulders as Ramey slashed a “knife hand” across his throat, motioning for them to knock it off. Idle chatter would not be tolerated.

Once out of the cave, Jerry and the Iranians were placed in the center of a loose diamond. Lapointe and Fazel were already scanning the horizon with their night-vision sights. After they reported “All clear,” Ramey whispered over the radio circuit, “Forward.”

If climbing up the hill in the dark was bad, going back down was worse. The loose rock and sand made finding good footing treacherous. Shirin slipped several times during the early phase of the descent. She just couldn’t keep her balance.

“XO,” Ramey’s voice came softly over the radio. “Get in front of Dr. Naseri.”

Jerry did so, while Ramey motioned for Yousef to grasp his wife’s waist. Ramey then grabbed Shirin’s right arm and placed her hand on Jerry’s shoulder. The stability Shirin gained from the two men made the remaining trek down the hill smoother, but it slowed things down. Half an hour later, they had reached the car.

Lapointe and Phillips took watch positions on the crest. They were still a few kilometers from the highway; there were no signs of any Basij patrols. The lights of Bandar Kangan could be seen glowing on the horizon. The sky was overcast, with only a slight breeze coming from the sea.

“No signs of any patrols,” reported Lapointe. “We’re good, Boss.”

“Roger that, Pointy. You and Philly keep a sharp eye. Things are going to get a little noisy in a minute.”

Ramey asked Yousef for the keys. He unlocked the door and quickly put the vehicle in neutral. “XO, Doc, push the car forward a little.”

Jerry and Fazel started pushing, but the car was sitting in some soft sand and it resisted their efforts. Yousef came over and the three were able to get the car moving. After about four feet, Ramey said, “Whoa. Good enough. Doc, get the rear license plate.”

The two SEALs quickly removed the identifying plates and Ramey stored them in his backpack. He then opened the glove compartment and carelessly threw the contents on to the front seat and the floor. He found nothing of particular value, but saved what looked like official documents for Fazel to inspect.

Ramey tossed the keys to Fazel and said, “Doc, force the trunk open. Make it look sloppy.”

The corpsman took the keys and opened the trunk. He found the tire iron, closed the trunk, and then proceeded to pry and bend open the lock. The creaking and screech of torn metal seemed particularly loud. Placing the tire iron back in the trunk, Fazel rifled through and shifted the contents all around. He threw some on the ground as well.

“Sprinkle some sand in the trunk, Doc. Not too much though.”

As Fazel worked on the trunk, Ramey slashed the seats and tore them open. He then found the identification plate on the door and began rubbing it with a handful of sand. A brief inspection by flashlight showed that the vehicle identification number was badly scratched, with parts of the number unreadable, but not totally eliminated. Checking the doors, he made sure they were all unlocked.

“Done here, Boss,” called Fazel.

“Okay, Doc. Take a quick look at these documents and make sure there are no names or addresses. Then have everyone back off. Stand by for some noise,” he announced. With that Ramey took his rifle, and using the butt, completely smashed all the windows. Shirin jumped at the sound of crushed glass. Jerry winced with each strike, convinced that the noise would be noticeable down on the highway. He glanced over at Yousef who looked on approvingly. He took that as a good sign.

After Ramey had thrown some sand inside the car, he stepped back and declared with satisfaction, “There. The car looks sufficiently vandalized.”

“Were still good, sir. Nothing is moving out there,” spoke Lapointe without prompting. Phillips also reported that all was clear.

“Awesome,” Ramey replied. “Diamond formation. Positions as before. We’ll follow this path down to the road. It’s one and a half klicks to the south-southeast. Maintain a careful sweep of your sectors, just in case someone did hear all that noise. Everyone be quiet. No talking unless the tactical situation requires it. Form up.”

Lapointe and Phillips scampered down the small hill and took their positions. Once Ramey was satisfied everyone was in his or her proper place, he ordered, “Forward.”

Slowly, the group began their long trek down the Iranian coast.

~ * ~

Ramey was true to his word. The dirt road he chose was more or less level, firm, and free of big rocks and other obstructing debris. The soft crunching of boots on the sand was the only sound made by the party, interrupted by the occasional truck that passed by on the highway less than a kilometer to the south. Jerry initially thought they were doing pretty well pacewise, but after a couple of hours, Shirin started slowing noticeably. Yousef tapped Jerry on the shoulder and gestured that she had to rest. Jerry relayed the request to Ramey who sighed audibly. “Hold,” he commanded over the radio. Phillips directed Yousef and Shirin to rest behind a small ridge; Fazel came up to check on Shirin. He gave Yousef a bottle of water and instructed her to drink as much as she could.

Ten minutes later, they were on the march again. But this time, Shirin barely walked for an hour before she had to stop and rest. Frustrated, Ramey called Jerry and Fazel over to discuss the situation.

“We’ve got to pick up the pace if we are going to reach Akhtar before first light,” complained Ramey impatiently. “We can’t keep stopping like this.”

Before Jerry could respond, Fazel spoke up. There was an edge to his voice. “Boss, the lady is on the small side to begin with, she doesn’t have a whole lot of muscle mass, and she’s almost five months pregnant! She’s not barfing her guts out, but fatigue is still a major issue at this stage of her pregnancy. She’s moving about as fast as she can.”

“Honestly, Matt, I think we need to reevaluate our goal for tonight,” suggested Jerry.

“Ya think?” Ramey snapped. “Thank you, Captain Obvious!”

Jerry didn’t even bother to reply to Ramey’s angry outburst; he just looked at him sternly. Fazel’s expression showed he disapproved of the lieutenant’s behavior as well. Ramey rubbed his neck and huffed, trying to get his emotions back in check.

“All right, Doc. Do what you can. I’ll look for a place for us to bed down that’s closer.”

“Hooyah,” replied the corpsman as he went over to check on Shirin.

Ramey pulled out his map, placed it on the ground, and shined a small red light on it. He found Bandar Charak and started working backward.

Jerry said, “Matt, I’d like to talk with Dr. Naseri for a moment.” Ramey’s expression made it clear he wasn’t pleased with the idea.

“Look, they don’t trust us, and for good reason from their perspective. She’s given us a peek into the treasure trove of information she’s carrying, but she’s holding something back, something big. We need to understand why they are so damn eager to prove their worth to us.”

“I already asked her, XO. She said ‘no.’ She either doesn’t think we would believe them, or they’re still scared we’ll take the data and run. She was emphatic that we had to see the value of the data they had, before we would accept whatever they are holding so damn close to the chest,” responded Ramey impatiently.

“All the more reason for us to find a way to break the ice. Five minutes, and I’ll keep it down.”

Ramey sighed deeply, and after a short pause, nodded his reluctant approval for Jerry to go have his talk.

Jerry walked over and sat beside Shirin. Even in the dim light he could see she was exhausted. “We re looking for a closer place to stay. There is no way you can make it to Akhtar.”

She looked confused, and then glanced in Ramey’s direction.

“It’s okay. I got his approval for us to talk. Just keep it down; whisper.”

Naseri smiled. “Thank you. I’m sorry that I am slowing you all down.”

“Can’t be helped. You’re not exactly in the best shape for a long distance hike.”

“We didn’t plan on having a baby just now. But Allah’s will has gently pushed us down this path. Do you have any children, Mr. Jerry?”

“No, no, I don’t have any children. We aren’t quite ready for that yet.”

“You are married though?”

“Yes, Dr. Naseri. My wife is a university professor, a teacher.”

Shirin nodded as she took another drink. “Dr. Fazel is insistent that I drink much water.”

Jerry chuckled softly. “Petty Officer Fazel is not a medical doctor.” Naseri looked confused again. “He’s a hospital corpsman, more like a nurse. Although, I think he’d be mad if he heard me calling him a nurse. The title ‘Doc’ is a nickname. A friendly title given to a person, usually associated with one’s occupation.”

“Ahh, I understand,” said Naseri. “My mother told me that my father was called an ‘Ali-Cat’ because he was a pilot.”

Jerry’s expression changed instantly, becoming more intense. “Your father was a Tomcat pilot?”

Shirin seemed embarrassed, and looked away from Jerry. Yousef saw her reaction and spoke in Farsi. She put her hand on his arm and put him at ease.

“Yes, Mr. Jerry. My father was a fighter pilot in the Imperial Iranian Air Force.”

Jerry’s broad smile had a soothing affect. “I’ve read a lot about the bravery of Iranian fighter pilots, and F-14 pilots in particular. I was once a fighter pilot myself, but I had an accident that forced me down another path. Did your father fight in the war?”

Shirin’s eyes began to water, and she choked as she spoke. “They imprisoned him after the Revolution. He was too Westernized for their liking. The Pasdaran beat him. But after the Iraqis attacked us, they let him go. And despite all that they had done to him, he flew to defend Iran from Saddam Hussein.” Tears were now falling from her eyes as she wept softly. Ramey looked over at Jerry, wondering what the hell was going on. Jerry waved him off.

“He died on the eighth of October, 1986, defending Khark Island from an Iraqi raid. An Iraqi Mirage shot down his plane, his body was never found. I ... I was less than a year old when he died. He had so very little time with me as a baby. This is all that I have to remember him.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of folded green material and handed it to Jerry.