Pandora's grave

“So much I see,” Kranemeyer replied, irritation in his voice. “Any idea where they’re going?”

“Every idea. Look to the right side of your screen,” Carter instructed. “Tell me what you see?”

“More thermal blooms. What is that-” Kranemeyer’s face lit up with a sudden realization. “The base camp! That stubborn son of a gun is still headed for the base camp.”

“I know. And that’s not all. See what you make of this.”

Another shot came flashing up on the screen, this time of the base camp itself. Figures were hurrying from one of the trailers toward two small vehicles parked on the edge of camp.

“What’s going on, Carter?”

“Wish I knew. I’ve ID’d the fast attack vehicles. They’re an American make, Chenowth Racing Products, Inc., built under license in Germany.”

“Exported to which countries?”

“Haven’t come up with that yet, boss.”

Kranemeyer studied the photograph for another minute. The night was going from bad to worse, spinning out of control. “I need to communicate with Nichols,” he said at last. “Right away.”

“Last I talked with Danny they’d been trying. He’s just not answering the phone.”

“Then find another way, blast it! Is there a way to override the vibrator on Nichols’ TACSAT?”

“I believe so. Let me have a chat with the boys over at S amp;T-the TACSAT-10 is their toy, after all.”

“No,” Kranemeyer replied, cutting the analyst short. “You’ll handle it. Find a work-around, but keep the circle close. Orders of the DCIA.”

“What’s going on?”

“That’s not your concern. Just play it close to the vest tonight, Ron.”

3:26 A.M.

The base camp

“All right,” Harry whispered, holding up his hand for a halt. He dropped to one knee behind a rock formation, the rest of the team forming in a huddle behind him. “This is where we break up. Go the rest of the way on our bellies.” He reached into his shirt and unfolded a small map. It was plain, no marks save those chiseled into his mind back in Washington.

“Intel says the hostages should be in one of these two trailers. They’re both in the northeast quadrant of the camp. I want them hit, fast and hard. If it’s carrying a gun, it goes down, just remember your fields of fire and stick to them. Tex, you and Davood take that quadrant. Hamid, I need you on the northwest. I’ll be coming in from due west. When you are in position, signify by toggling your mike switch twice. Other than that, maintain radio silence. No exceptions.” He glanced at the dark faces surrounding him. “Any questions?”

Davood nodded. “It’s going to be hard to stage this attack without using the radios. So why can’t we? Langley said they’re secure.”

“Langley also said the Iranians had no idea we were coming.” A grim smile creased Harry’s face. “The suits get it wrong from time to time. ‘Bout time you learned that. Radio silence. And for heaven’s sake, remember your fields of fire. Let’s roll ‘em.”

One by one, his team members slipped away into the night, leaving Harry alone again.

Time to move. He took his Kalishnikov in one hand, raising himself from behind the rocks. The camp was spread out below him, in a hollow of the valley, lab trailers ghostly white in the moonlight. His eyes swept from side to side, in an attempt to pick out the sentries he knew must be patrolling the perimeter.

Nothing. Only silence hung over the plateau. He crawled fifty meters, then covered behind a large rock, plucking a small pair of binoculars from a pocket of his combat vest.

His radio buzzed with static, then Hamid’s voice came through, loud and clear. “FULLBACK to EAGLE SIX, the camp is empty. No signs of life.”

“Confound it, FULLBACK,” Harry hissed, “you were told to maintain radio silence.”

“Roger that, boss, but it’s like a ghost town. Didn’t the tangos leave anyone home?”

Major Hossein’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. What was going on? He didn’t understand-the next words answered his question.

“Continue moving in on the base camp, EAGLE SIX?”

“Follow your orders, FULLBACK,” the American leader replied, anger clear in his tones. “Toggle mikes twice to signal your position. Now get the deuce off the air.”

“Roger, EAGLE SIX.”

Hossein spun into action, charging down the hillside toward the main body of his men, heedless of the American sniper who was still out there somewhere.

“I want twenty men back in the trucks!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the rocky slopes. “The Americans have tricked us.”

1:30 A.M. Local Time

Mossad Headquarters

Tel Aviv-Yafo, Israel

The helicopter settled down on the roof of Mossad HQ and General Shoham was out of the door almost before the rotors had stopped turning. A light rain was just beginning to fall and one of his aides handed him a poncho.

He brushed it away and strode purposefully to the side of the helipad, where he spied the watch officer.

“Any word on RAHAB?” he demanded.

The younger man shook his head. “Nothing since last contact at 2430. We’ve heard nothing from-”