SEAL Team Six Hunt the Falcon(85)
Crocker stopped chewing and said, “Sounds promising.”
“I think so, too. Ramin thinks he can enlist his friend’s help, and maybe your team can ambush them as they’re arriving at or leaving a game.”
“What’s the name of Ramin’s friend?” Crocker asked.
“Adab Mashhad.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Not much. I’ve confirmed that he’s the owner of the Shohada Gaz Arena in Ahvaz. He also holds a prominent position in the national drilling company. Ramin says the two of them studied engineering together.”
“When is this Farsh Sari team playing next?” Crocker asked.
“Ramin’s looking into that now. I’m speaking to him again tonight.”
By ten that night Crocker had sketched out a plan and selected Akil, Mancini, and Ritchie to go with him. He had spoken to each man and told them they were going to be dropped inside Iran with orders to attack several high-priority targets. The likelihood of them being either captured or killed was high. All three volunteered.
If and when the op was approved by the president, the four men would travel with John Smith via CIA jet to Al Taqaddum Air Base outside Baghdad. From there they’d be ferried south by helicopter to Basrah, which was roughly a two-hour drive or twenty-minute helicopter ride to Ahvaz, just over the border in Iran. The details of their insertion were still being worked out by the CIA.
Crocker sat in Sutter’s office with Mancini and Sutter’s second in command, going over the PLO—patrol leader’s order—that was standard practice in all ST-6 missions. They discussed insertion, extraction, infiltration, actions at the objective, movement, emergency medical evacuation, communications, loss-of-comms plan, hand signals, concealment, covers, weather, clothing, supplies, specialized equipment, weapons, medical supplies, first-, second-, and third-line gear, and contingencies.
A few minutes before midnight, Sutter’s phone rang. It was Donaldson with the news that the president had okayed the mission. Crocker’s team was going in deep black, which meant they couldn’t carry anything that identified them in any way—no IDs, photos, dog tags, U.S. military weapons.
“What’s the timing?” Sutter asked into the speakerphone.
“The team Farsh Sari is playing in Ahvaz the night after tomorrow, so they have to launch now,” Donaldson answered.
“That’s the twenty-fifth, correct?”
“Affirmative.”
Sutter looked at Crocker, who nodded, barely able to contain his excitement. “You can tell the president they’re ready to go.”
Chapter Twenty-One
You armed me with strength for battle; you humbled my adversaries before me.
—Psalm 18:39
His team was waiting at the airport, but Crocker couldn’t leave without explaining to Holly what he was about to do, even though his orders forbade him from discussing his missions with anyone. He’d never broken that pledge in almost ten years of working with ST-6 and Black Cell. But tonight he was making an exception.
She was asleep when he got home. He woke her, sat facing her, and holding both her hands said, “I want you to know that I’m leaving tonight on a mission to go after Farhed Alizadeh in Iran. And I couldn’t be more excited.”
She looked at him and trembled, and in that moment seemed to fully understand the gravity of what he was telling her. “I can’t say I’m not pleased,” she said, “but I’m also scared. Thank you for telling me. And please, please, come back.”
“Don’t tell Jenny about the mission, but I want both of you to know that if something happens, I’m still the luckiest man alive. I’ve been blessed with a beautiful, intelligent daughter that I don’t deserve, and the most wonderful wife I could have ever imagined.”
“Tom, I love you so much . . .”
He kissed her, pulled away, and took one last glance at the room, Holly on the bed and on the wall their framed wedding picture in which a look of absolute joy showed on her face. He wanted to take those images with him, even to the other side of death.
Starting down the stairs, he realized there was one other thing he wanted to take with him. Stepping lightly and carefully, he entered Jenny’s room and planted a kiss on her sleeping head, taking a moment to record her delicate profile, which always gave him joy and reminded him of his first wife.
With both images stored deep inside, he descended the stairs to the office, where he grabbed one of the prepacked bags for undercover summer ops, with a couple of black T-shirts and pants, toothbrush, hunting knife, and black Nikes. He stopped in the kitchen, pulled two energy bars and a bottle of water out of the cabinet, then patted Brando’s head and told him to look after the girls until he got back before exiting into the night.