grinned. “Hey, you get to order what you want, and we’ll bring it to you. How about that for service?”
The tension, the long flight, and the change in time all hit Douglas at the same instant. “Hey, if I drop facedown into my steak and go to sleep, just roll me over and let me snore. I’ve never been so damn tired in my life.”
11
Monday, October 24
1004 hours
Kuwait City, Kuwait
Franklin and Douglas had been outfitted with Iranian clothing an hour before. Now they looked over their I.D. and other papers that made them out to be Iranians.
“We don’t even look Arabic,” Douglas said.
“Make that Persian, Kurd, or Azerbaijani,” Franklin said.
“Whatever. We going to be able to pass?”
“We damn well better, or we’ll be dead meat.”
Douglas groaned. “We go in tonight as soon as it gets dark?”
“Yeah. What a kick. That great big bird for just the two of us. Think they would have used something smaller, faster.”
“Could, but we wouldn’t have any way to bail out. Hell, they say this plane has been prepped especially for runs like this. Covert as all hell.”
“Just so it gets us in without getting shot down. We’ll worry about how to get out.”
Douglas scowled. “You still have that map? Let’s take another look. Tehran is a humongous place, seven million bodies. We’ve got to find one certain apartment?”
“Yeah, if we’re gonna do any good.”
They both were surprised when Don Stroh, their CIA guardian, walked in the room two hours before flight time.
“Any problems?” he asked.
“Yeah, Stroh. I’d like to get some of your frequent flyer miles.” Franklin said. “You must have built up a few million by now.”
“No such luck, mostly military aircraft. Problems?”
“Yeah, the handguns they gave us. A piece of shit,” Franklin said.
“We got the Polish copy of the Makarov, the P-64. A nice light little nine-millimeter with six rounds. Best part is it can’t be traced to the U.S. Everything you have is sterile of any U.S. tie. We planned it that way.”
“Rather have fourteen rounds in my magazine,” Douglas said.
“Sure, and you’d rather take the MP-5 you brought, but no chance. Anything else?”
“We get out via Russia, right?” Franklin asked. “Baku?”
“Correct. First we need to know exactly where that nuke plant is. If our man in there can’t find it, you two will have to. I know you aren’t trained for this. Mostly it’s just common sense. Find the people who know what you need to know, and persuade them to tell you.”
“We’ll get the damn intel some way,” Douglas said. “Otherwise there can’t be a mission.”
“That’s the rub.” Stroh brightened. “But our man said he had a new lead, so maybe all you’ll need to do is be backup for him. Oh, he’ll have some more weapons for you when you get inside.”
“When do we leave?” Franklin asked.
“A half hour,” Stroh said. “Let’s get out to the plane. You’ll take off a half hour before dark. The plane will move north up through Kuwait, and then through the no-fly zone in Iraq. After that it turns to the right into Iran. This means we’ll have only about two hundred and fifty miles to penetrate into Iran before you drop.”
“How low?” Franklin asked.
“You’re set for eight hundred feet. Takes about three hundred feet for a round chute to open, then twenty seconds or so to the ground.”
“Damn, I feel naked going in like this. No weapons, no gear, almost nothing.” Douglas shook his head.
“This is the way that it should work best. Let’s get out to the flight line.”
Ten minutes later, they were in the big plane. The Hercules C-130 is a monster, especially for two passengers. It has four Allison T56-A-15 turboprop engines, good for 4,591 horsepower each. It has a high wing and has flown off aircraft carriers. It has a 132-foot wingspan, is 98 feet long, and the tail extends up 38 feet.
The C-130 has a crew of five, cruises at 375 mph, and with a
The tension, the long flight, and the change in time all hit Douglas at the same instant. “Hey, if I drop facedown into my steak and go to sleep, just roll me over and let me snore. I’ve never been so damn tired in my life.”
11
Monday, October 24
1004 hours
Kuwait City, Kuwait
Franklin and Douglas had been outfitted with Iranian clothing an hour before. Now they looked over their I.D. and other papers that made them out to be Iranians.
“We don’t even look Arabic,” Douglas said.
“Make that Persian, Kurd, or Azerbaijani,” Franklin said.
“Whatever. We going to be able to pass?”
“We damn well better, or we’ll be dead meat.”
Douglas groaned. “We go in tonight as soon as it gets dark?”
“Yeah. What a kick. That great big bird for just the two of us. Think they would have used something smaller, faster.”
“Could, but we wouldn’t have any way to bail out. Hell, they say this plane has been prepped especially for runs like this. Covert as all hell.”
“Just so it gets us in without getting shot down. We’ll worry about how to get out.”
Douglas scowled. “You still have that map? Let’s take another look. Tehran is a humongous place, seven million bodies. We’ve got to find one certain apartment?”
“Yeah, if we’re gonna do any good.”
They both were surprised when Don Stroh, their CIA guardian, walked in the room two hours before flight time.
“Any problems?” he asked.
“Yeah, Stroh. I’d like to get some of your frequent flyer miles.” Franklin said. “You must have built up a few million by now.”
“No such luck, mostly military aircraft. Problems?”
“Yeah, the handguns they gave us. A piece of shit,” Franklin said.
“We got the Polish copy of the Makarov, the P-64. A nice light little nine-millimeter with six rounds. Best part is it can’t be traced to the U.S. Everything you have is sterile of any U.S. tie. We planned it that way.”
“Rather have fourteen rounds in my magazine,” Douglas said.
“Sure, and you’d rather take the MP-5 you brought, but no chance. Anything else?”
“We get out via Russia, right?” Franklin asked. “Baku?”
“Correct. First we need to know exactly where that nuke plant is. If our man in there can’t find it, you two will have to. I know you aren’t trained for this. Mostly it’s just common sense. Find the people who know what you need to know, and persuade them to tell you.”
“We’ll get the damn intel some way,” Douglas said. “Otherwise there can’t be a mission.”
“That’s the rub.” Stroh brightened. “But our man said he had a new lead, so maybe all you’ll need to do is be backup for him. Oh, he’ll have some more weapons for you when you get inside.”
“When do we leave?” Franklin asked.
“A half hour,” Stroh said. “Let’s get out to the plane. You’ll take off a half hour before dark. The plane will move north up through Kuwait, and then through the no-fly zone in Iraq. After that it turns to the right into Iran. This means we’ll have only about two hundred and fifty miles to penetrate into Iran before you drop.”
“How low?” Franklin asked.
“You’re set for eight hundred feet. Takes about three hundred feet for a round chute to open, then twenty seconds or so to the ground.”
“Damn, I feel naked going in like this. No weapons, no gear, almost nothing.” Douglas shook his head.
“This is the way that it should work best. Let’s get out to the flight line.”
Ten minutes later, they were in the big plane. The Hercules C-130 is a monster, especially for two passengers. It has four Allison T56-A-15 turboprop engines, good for 4,591 horsepower each. It has a high wing and has flown off aircraft carriers. It has a 132-foot wingspan, is 98 feet long, and the tail extends up 38 feet.
The C-130 has a crew of five, cruises at 375 mph, and with a
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