Part 1
Chapter 1
CIA analyst Richard Blaine is riding in the back seat of the company car to work. A black Mercedes Benz GL Class Sports Utility Vehicle. Complete with six bullet proof black tinted windows, bullet proof plated doors with full air conditioning and a twelve month warranty. It was led by a convoy of three US Army armoured humvees of the 25th Infantry Division. It was flanked by four US Army armoured humvees of the 25th Infantry Division. Each of the large four door four wheeled drive vehicles were armed with an assortment of weapons, including TOW missiles, M248 Squad Automatic Weapons, grenade launchers. Anything to fend off even the most dedicated of jihadis. On both sides of the convoy was a MH-60L Direct Action Penetrator; a Black Hawk helicopter that is armed to the talons; on loan from the 160th. Taking the role of advance recon was an OH-58 Kiowa helicopter. According to the pilot, everything was clear.
Christ… Blaine thought …imagine the Old Man coming here. He’d have the entire armed forces protecting his sorry ass
It was noon. The desert sun was high above the Visible Highway, running from the desert outskirts into the lions den that is Tehran. The American’s called it the Visible Highway, referring to the visibility of the success and progress of the country, after the invasion. The Iranians just refer to it as the Fi Sabil Allah Highway. The Path to Allah Highway. The Highway to Jihad.
They drive past a shot up billboard of the former leader Grand Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. The face was missing because it was hit by a missile during the battle to capture Tehran from the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. Blaine looks to his left, past the rail of the highway and into the distance and into the outer suburbs of Tehran. He saw the bullet ridden apartment buildings, the shelled out rubbles of homes, and the bombed out shells of cars, the screaming hospitals, the empty schools and the packed morgues. He couldn’t hear it but he knew somewhere out there, gunshots were ringing. Running battles were being fought between the U.S. Army and the militias and insurgents. Which Battalion of the Army, which militant group, which insurgent cell? There were so many that he just didn’t have the heart to care any more. It’s not like he wanted this job to begin with. He would have resigned the minute after the Old Man pressed his little red button that dropped the bombs into Iran. But his family needs the money and the health plan that comes with it. The health plan that means his son can get the best treatment there is curtesy of the American tax payers. And now here he was, the new Director of Intelligence Operations in Iran and liaison to the U.S. Appointed Government. He has no idea where he is going to begin in cleaning up this shit heap that the Old Man has made. They knew he wasn’t going to like it here. They just sent him here to shut him up before he could leak his story to the press. Or to get him killed. It was just as his convoy entered outer suburbs of Tehran when he noticed the white van behind him.
Abu Akbar knew he was on a mission to martyrdom. He knew he wouldn’t survive the mission and the twenty kilos of explosives next to him in the back of the van would guarantee that. He held the RPG launcher firmly in his hands, knowing that Allah will guide his rocket to the target well and true. He told Mahmoud, the driver of the van to get closer to the convoy that was ahead of them, so that he can get a better shot at the helicopter flying overhead. The van speeds up and through the window, Abu saw his target closer and clearer. He recites to himself a small prayer.
“I shall fight with weapons and defences. And if I die, I’ll take him with me!”
He slides open the van door and aims his RPG towards the black hawk helicopter ahead of him. “Allahu Akbar!”
The recoil of the rocket propelled grenade sends tingles of joy and excitement through his body.
United Sates Air force pilot Jimmy Caracas was on a routine escort mission from the newly renamed Tehran International Airport back to the Green Zone at the heart of Tehran. Apparently he was escorting some diplomat or CIA hotshot who is to start calling the shots around here. Everything had gone off without a hitch. They were travelling along the Visible Highway and just got into outer suburbs of Tehran when his radio buzzed. It was the pilot of the Kiowa, performing advanced recon for the convoy.
“Juliet Bravo-2. This is Juliet Alpha-1. Everything seems clear from here to the next way point. Possible insurgent nests in 13.65 miles. Juliet Alpha-1 out.”
Caracas looks to his co-pilot and returns to piloting the black-hawk along its pre-determined course, following the way points. He heard the chatter between the machine-gunners in the back. Heard how Michael Watts was killed yesterday when an Explosively Formed Penetrator struck his Humvee, killing him and two others. Caracas returned his attention to flying the helicopter when he heard some more chatter between them. This time a bit more frantic.
“What the hell is with that white van?”
“Shit! What’s that in the guy’s hand?”
“Fuck!!! RP…”
Caracas felt the entire helicopter shudder as the rear rotor was blown to pieces and the helicopter began to lurch to the right and tilt forward. Caracas and his co-pilot struggle with the control-stick to regain altitude and control of the black-hawk but fail to. It begins to go into a tailspin and starts falling to the highway. Unable to stop the chopper from crashing, Caracas calls for the crew to brace for impact as the blades of the rotor scraped the concrete of the Visible Highway.
Corporal Lance Benes was holding up the rear guard of a convoy consisting of seven humvees, two MH-60L Direct Action Penetrators, an OH-58 Kiowa helicopter and a black bullet-proof Mercedes Benz GL Class Sports Utility Vehicle. Apparently the passenger of the Mercedes was someone of high importance otherwise they wouldn’t have sent this much firepower to protect one person. Must be an American.
Lance was alert and awake from the first moment he left the airport. It was his first tour of duty here, but he knew the dangers involved. In his first month here, his vehicle was hit by a roadside bomb. He survived but his driver didn’t. As for Luis Henderson, he was sent back to the States for rehabilitation. He had lost his legs and needed artificial ones. Doctors said he would need constant rehabilitation and was not fit for duty anytime soon. There was also that EFP attack yesterday that killed Sammy Moran and a couple of others. He knew it wasn’t safe. His hands were around the grip of the machinegun mounted on top of the humvee. He was ready for anything that would come his way. His senses were on edge.
About and hour out from leaving the airport, the convoy reached the outer suburbs of Tehran. His radio crackled and he learnt that there were possibly insurgent hideouts in 13.65 miles. He rests his finger against the trigger guard of his M248.
As the highway begins to branch out with exits, Lance notices a white van beginning to tail the convoy.
“Sergeant, there’s a white van tailing us. Should we fall back from the convoy and investigate?”
“No. This is a priority escort. Tell it to drop its speed and to keep a gap of one hundred metres from us.” The sergeant replied.
Lance picks up the microphone to the loudspeaker mounted on the roof. “Unidentified vehicle,” Lance pauses for a moment “Please reduce speed to twenty miles per hour and maintain a distance of one hundred metres.” He waits for a few minutes. He then repeats it, this time in a choppy and highly accented Persian. The driver of the white van does not comply and even speeds up. Following procedure, Lance reaches for his mounted machine gun and releases the safety and starts to aim his weapon, preparing to fire off a few warning shots. Suddenly, he hears a loud bang and over his left shoulder, sees that the rear rotor of the black hawk escort had been blown apart. He quickly returns his attention to the van and starts firing. The windshield begins to resemble the moon, becoming filled with bullet formed craters, with spider web cracks forming. The driver appears dead but the van still accelerates when without warning, it turns into a bright light. That was the last thing to be etched into Lance’s eyes.
Richard Blaine felt his car suddenly lurch forward and begin to spin anti-clockwise and begin to flip. He looks to his right and sees outside the window one of his black hawk escorts, on its side with its rotors carving up the highway, crash right into the humvee in front of Blaine’s Mercedes, pushing it until both went through the concrete barrier on the other side of the highway, falling ten metres onto the highway below, crushing several cars in the process.
While that was happening, Blaine’s car had flipped onto its side and was skidding along the asphalt. Inside everything was shaken up, the driver had been rendered unconscious and Blaine knew he had a gash on the side of his head. As it was about to pass the falling chopper, its rotor clipped the bonnet of the overturned car, slowing it down and sending it in another spin. By then, Blaine was no longer conscious.
