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SEAL Team Six Hunt the Falcon(88)

By:Don Mann


“It worked yesterday when I tested it, but not tonight.”

“Kill the engine and get out. I want all of you to follow me.”

“Where?” the young woman who had been smoking a clove cigarette in the backseat asked.

“Put out the cigarette and do as I say.”

She frowned but complied. Crocker got his first good look at her and the third passenger as they exited the vehicle. She was an attractive young woman, about five nine, with dark, almond-shaped eyes, wearing tight jeans, her shoulder-length black hair covered with a black scarf. The male was very thin and young looking, with amber-colored eyes.

Ramin, last one out, had pissed his pants. Crocker watched him reach under the front seat and pull out a dark sweatshirt, which he tied around his waist.

They walked quickly and in silence. The Iranians looked scared when they saw the two other armed SEALs waiting behind the shipping container.

“I’m sorry if we frightened you, but it couldn’t be helped,” Crocker said.

“Okay. Y-y-yes,” Ramin stammered. “We’re glad you’re here, but this is very dangerous for us.”

Crocker: “Your English is good.”

“I studied two years at the University of Maryland.”

“College Park?” Ritchie asked.

“Yes. The Terrapins.”

Ritchie: “I used to live on Adelphi Road, not far from the campus.”

“Adelphi Road. Of course.”

“Are you a football fan?” Mancini asked.

“No, basketball. Steve Blake, Chris Wilcox, Juan Dixon.”

“Awesome team.”

“We won the national championship in 2002 under coach Gary Williams,” Ramin said proudly.

Ritchie: “I remember.”

Ramin seemed like a personable guy, even if he wasn’t a trained soldier. He pulled Crocker aside. “John told me he was going to get me and my family out of the country and find me a job in the U.S. Did he say anything to you about that?”

“No, he didn’t. But if he told you he was working on it, I’m sure he is. I’ll talk to him next time I see him.”

Ramin looked confused. “My mother is very sick.”

“I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him that. John told me you have a plan.”

“I do.” The wind picked up, throwing sand in their faces. Ramin walked over to his shorter colleague and placed a hand on his shoulder. “This is my friend Danush,” he said. “He’s going to pick you up from here tomorrow at 6 p.m. and take you to the arena.”

“My name is Anahita,” the girl said in British-accented English, looking annoyed that Ramin hadn’t introduced her.

Crocker took her hand. “Nice to meet you, Anahita.”

She lowered her eyes to the ground. “I’ll be with Danush.”

“Tomorrow night?” Crocker asked.

“Yes.”

“We’ll all fit in the car?”

She nodded.

“The arena is near here?” Crocker asked.

“Thirty kilometers,” Danush said.

“So it’s relatively close.”

“Yes, about a twenty-minute drive. Twenty-five at most,” Ramin said. “Danush’s brother will meet you there. He manages the sports arena.”

Crocker turned to Danush. “Your brother,” he repeated. “What’s his name?”

“Shah.”

He saw the smirk on Ritchie’s face and knew what he was thinking.

“Shah what?” Crocker asked.

“Just Shah.”

He looked at Danush and nodded. “Okay. You take us to the arena, then what happens?”

“You’ll meet with his brother and he’ll show you where to hide.”

“John Smith told me you had a plan. What’s the plan?”

“We do have a plan,” Ramin answered defensively.

“That’s it? We meet Danush’s brother and he shows us where to hide?”

Ramin looked at his watch. “You want me to show you everything now?”

“Yes, please do.”

Ramin said something to Anahita, who turned, reached under her blouse, and removed a piece of white paper. She unfolded it and handed it to Ramin. On it was a bird’s-eye-view sketch of the arena, entrances, and parking lot. It matched the satellite photo Crocker had in his backpack.

Pointing to a spot on the paper, Ramin said, “This is the sports arena. The customers enter in the front, but special dignitaries arrive in the back. Here. That is where Alizadeh and Suleimani always enter. They come together in one car with a bodyguard and driver. Another vehicle with more bodyguards will follow them.”

Crocker pointed to the curb in the drawing. “This is where the vehicles stop and the two men get out?” he asked.