Exit Plan (36 page)

“And that’s what we’re going to do,” Jerry answered. “It’s all we can do, that and try to find bus tickets back home.”

~ * ~

VEVAK agent Hafez Omid surveyed the chaos with contempt. It was a typical Pasdaran operation, a frontal assault with no planning, no reconnaissance, and no thinking. Omid fumed as he took stock of all the opportunities those idiots in the bright green uniforms had cost them. And to make matters worse, the bumbling Pasdaran captain was touting this skirmish as a great victory! Victory? What did they have to show for this “great victory”? Four dead traitors whose knowledge was lost forever? Whatever secrets they had had were smoldering in the fireplace. Papers, laptop computers, cell phones, electronic storage media, all of it charred to uselessness by the flares the traitors had thrown onto the pile.
Damn those incompetent Pasdar fools,
cursed Omid to himself.

The air was still thick with smoke from the byproducts of gunfire, explosives, and burned-out flares. The acrid atmosphere assaulted his eyes, nose, and throat, worsening his already foul mood. He’d collect the burnt remains of the electronics. There was a slight chance that some of the data might have survived, but everything else was gone. Angrily, Omid stormed out of the house. He needed to find his partner, and he needed a cigarette.

Passing through what was left of the front door, Omid saw Teymour Sattari across the street taking the Pasdaran unit commander’s statement.
No doubt elaborating on his military brilliance
, Omid thought. He motioned for Sattari to get rid of the officer and join him. Pulling the pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, he withdrew one and lit up as Sattari approached.

“That bad?” Sattari asked. He could read the sour expression on his partner’s face.

“Worse. It’s probably a total loss. I’ll have the remains of the computers and cell phones sent to Tehran. We might get something if we are very lucky. But the discs and paper are nothing but ashes,” replied Omid, as he took another drag. “The traitorous bastards used magnesium roadside flares, six of them, to torch their information. They were quite effective.”

Sattari winced and shook his head; flares like that could easily get over one thousand degrees Centigrade. They would be lucky indeed if they recovered any useful information. Gesturing toward the battered house, he asked, “Do you think they were mujahadeen?”

“Of course they were MEK,” snapped Omid as he threw the last of the cigarette on the ground and stamped it out. “But there is absolutely no way we can benefit from that knowledge, because of that arrogant imbecile!” He pointed vigorously in the direction of the Pasdaran commander. “We lost our best chance to trace the network Naseri belonged to when that Pasdaran jackass stormed the house!”

“They were only following their orders,” counseled Sattari quietly. “The Pasdaran are a blunt instrument. Don’t expect a hammer to do the job of a screwdriver. If there is negligence, look to the carpenter, not the tool.”

“Rahim?” Omid literally spat the name out. “Trust me, my patience with our esteemed colleague is all but spent. He has become too close to that Pasdaran general and has lost sight of his true duties.”

“He certainly has been stingy with his information,” Sattari admitted. “He could have alerted us much earlier about the missing traitors. And why was he in such a hurry to arrest her uncle? With just a little more time, we could have conducted a proper operation here. The outcome would have likely been very different.”

“And my report will say as much,” Omid said determinedly. “Rahim routinely oversteps his authority, and this time I will have him held accountable.” The finality of his statement seemed to appease the senior VEVAK agent and he relaxed. Pointing again in the direction of the Pasdaran captain he asked, “So what did our hero of the battle of Bandar Charak have to say?”

Sattari smiled. He was relieved that Omid had calmed down. While his anger in this case was completely justified, Omid’s short-fuzed temper had gotten him in trouble before with his superiors. The last time was over an altercation with Rahim concerning an investigation of a possible MEK informant at Isfahan. Omid had presented a superior investigation plan, but Rahim knew all the right buttons to push, and Omid eventually lost his patience. His furious denouncement of Rahim’s suggestions cost him the position of lead investigator. And even though his recommendations were ultimately accepted, Omid was “exiled” to Bandar Abbas, while Rahim became the VEVAK liaison to the Iranian nuclear program. Needless to say, there was no love lost between the two men.

“He actually had little to say.” Sattari opened his notebook and walked down the time line. “They received their orders at 1255. Mobilized two squads of Pasdaran soldiers by 1318, and began their assault at 1333.

“Resistance was much greater than expected. The occupants had automatic weapons and grenades, and they repulsed the first assault. He regrouped his men and with the use of RPGs, succeeded in storming the house. The objective was secured by 1355. Seyyed Naseri, his wife, and two unidentified males were killed in the attack. Pasdaran casualties were three dead and five wounded; two seriously.”

“Hmph, I expected their losses to be greater,” Omid remarked cynically.

“Hafez, you need to learn to be more gracious. The Pasdaran may be blunt instruments, but they still serve the Islamic Republic and their sacrifice deserves our respect,” chided Sattari.

Omid sighed deeply, acknowledging his partner’s rebuke. “You’re right, Teymour. My apologies. Was there anything else?”

“Uh, yes, one last item. It seems our captain was not impressed with the barricade established by the Charak police force. One officer in particular allowed two civilians to get too close. Fortunately, the fighting had already ended.”

Omid looked at Sattari intently, intrigued. “Did he give you any details?”

“Just that it was a man and a woman. They left before he had a chance to speak to them. The captain then claimed he became occupied in disciplining the officer and didn’t see where they went,” answered Sattari.

“Find that police officer, Teymour.” Omid’s voice was hard. “I want to question him personally.” The junior agent initially considered asking why, but the stern look on Omid’s face suggested that would be a bad idea. He left quickly to find the policeman.

~ * ~

It took only fifteen minutes for Sattari to lead a very nervous police officer into the sitting room of the Naseri house. Omid was seated behind a desk busily labeling plastic bags with the charred remains of the computers and cell phones. He looked up as his partner cleared his throat.

“Sir. Police Officer Golzar reporting for questioning as ordered.”

Omid stood and pointed to the chair in front of the desk. “Excellent, Agent Sattari. Officer Golzar, please be seated.”

The man sat down stiffly. His face was pale, and he swallowed hard. There was fear in his eyes.

“Be at ease, Officer Golzar. You are not under any suspicion. I only wish to ask you some questions concerning the two civilians that managed to get past your barricade.”

Golzar relaxed noticeably, but his voice still wavered. “I will do my best to answer your questions, sir.”

“Excellent.” Omid smiled as he opened his notebook. “Would you please describe the two civilians?”

“They weren’t both civilians, sir,” Golzar answered warily. “The man was a Basij soldier, a corporal. The woman was properly attired in a full, dark-colored burqua. He claimed she was his sister-in-law.”

“I see,” responded Omid. “Can you describe this corporal in more detail?

“He was about my height. Approximately 1.8 meters tall, stocky build. His uniform was typical for Basij, ill-fitting and a little dirty. He was also armed. The weapon appeared to be a standard-issue sidearm.”

“Did anything appear unusual about this man?” probed Omid.

“No, sir. He appeared to be a typical Basij militiaman. Although”— Golzar paused momentarily, a brief grin flashed across his face—”he was unusually respectful and obeyed my command to leave immediately without question.”

“And the woman?”

“She was much shorter, perhaps 1.6 meters tall. She seemed slight of build, but it is difficult to say with certainty as she was wearing a full burqua. She was visibly distressed by what she saw. She was sobbing uncontrollably.”

Omid wrote down the salient points, and then continued, “Exactly where did they cross the barricade?”

“I can’t say for sure, sir.” Golzar was getting nervous again. “I found them twenty-five meters inside the perimeter. They appeared to have come up from the south, from the direction of Bandar Aftab Road.”

“What time did this occur?”

Golzar checked his watch. “Just over an hour and ten minutes ago, about 1405.”

“Did they say why they were there?”

“Yes, sir. The corporal said they were on the way to the old Al Ali Castle when they became curious about the noise and smoke. I criticized him for bringing the woman there and told them that it was none of their business and that they had to leave.”

Omid leaned forward; his gaze was intense. “Did you observe their departure directly?”

“Yes, sir, at... at least initially.” Golzar audibly gulped as he spoke. “They headed north on Bandar Charak Road, and then the Pasdaran captain diverted my attention. When I looked back, they were gone. They could have headed west on Nahil Street, but that would be a guess on my part, sir.”

The VEVAK agent slowly closed his notebook and rose. Golzar sprung to his feet, standing at attention. Omid smiled and offered his hand. “Thank you for your cooperation, Police Officer Golzar. You have been most helpful.”

Golzar hesitated at first, but he took Omid’s hand and shook it. Sattari then led him outside and cautioned him to not speak about the interview. When Sattari returned, he found Omid sitting in his chair, a satisfied expression on his face.

“Do you believe the two were Naseri and Akbari?”

“Yes, Teymour, I do,” Omid’s tone was calm and confident. “The old castle is on the other side of town, over a kilometer away, and yet they approached from the south or the east? The descriptions Golzar gave are about right. Naseri wore a burqua to prevent being recognized and Akbari changed his Pasdaran uniform for Basij. This deception would fool the police and probably any Pasdaran officer, but her reaction to the fighting gives them away. They are here, Teymour! In Bandar Charak!”

Sattari grinned, pleased that things seemed to be turning their way, “We should report this immediately.”

“Absolutely not!” shouted Omid. “Provide an initial report of the outcome of the raid, but do not mention my suspicion that Akbari and Naseri are here. Then I want you to find the local Basij commander. We need eight of his men to support us in the search.”

“Hafez, I know you don’t like Rahim, but procedure demands we report this,” argued Sattari.

“Actually, I despise the man,” Omid shot back forcefully. “But my feelings for that jackal only play a small part in my decision. Time. Time is what is against us. If we report in, we’ll have to wait for Rahim to get the message and respond. And since we don’t have the authority to mobilize the entire Basij brigade ourselves, we’ll have to sit here with our fingers up our ass waiting for him, doing nothing. Every minute we delay gives those two traitors more opportunity to escape. No, Teymour, we’ll grab some Basij and go find them ourselves.”

“Akbari is a Pasdaran captain, and he is armed,” warned Sattari. “He won’t go down without a fight.”

Omid’s laugh was laden with contempt. “Bah! If you and I, with a little help from the Basij, can’t apprehend one Pasdaran captain and a pregnant woman, then we have no right to be in our line of business.”

Although apprehensive, Sattari reluctantly nodded his agreement. Omid gave him a reassuring slap on the back as the junior agent departed to find the local Basij brigade commander.
Omid is one of the best field agents in VEVAK,
he thought.
He knows what he is doing.