Strike Force

Yassini hurriedly switched to intercom. “Call Tehran and find out what in hell’s going on in Mehrabad!” he ordered. He forced calm into his voice. “I’m warning you, Hesarak,” he said, “that if you attempt to use those traitors to help you escape from the Khomeini Library, a lot of Iranian soldiers are going to die.”

“Don’t worry, Hoseyn — I’m already out of the library,” Buzhazi said. “I left while you were trying to fly your big bad helicopter around out there — you used to be a good stick, but I see your skills have faded. I recommend you don’t try to follow me — we still had a few shoulder-fired anti-aircraft missiles around.”

“You’re…out?” Yassini gasped. His mind spun furiously; then he turned to his aide and shouted, “Get every man you can find — local police, construction workers, farmers…I don’t care, anyone except the Pasdaran, and get them over to that library compound!” he ordered. “Then call on the discrete command channel and get every available air or infantry unit out here immediately. Do it quickly, but do it quietly. Those Pasdaran units must not know what is happening.” He realized that it was very possible for Buzhazi’s radio broadcasts to be intercepted by the Pasdaran as well, but he hoped the remnants of Zolqadr’s brigade hadn’t had time or thought about organizing an intelligence-gathering detail yet. He turned back to the radio: “Hesarak, what have you done with the hostages? Where are they? Over.”

“Hoseyn, they were nothing but scum, the twisted filthy corrupted dredges of Muslim extremism,” Buzhazi radioed. “Don’t bother trying to put together a rescue mission for them — they’re not worth the effort. I would recommend that you radio your remaining forces and advise them to lock themselves in their garrisons in full protective defensive posture, because the Pasdaran and their al-Quds thugs will be out looking to avenge the clerics on anyone they deem a threat to their continued existence. They’ll hunt down and murder the regular army before you have the chance to stop them, and they’ll claim they’re bringing the guilty to justice.”

“Hesarak…my God, what have you done?”

“Better yet, Hoseyn, come join us,” Buzhazi said. “Don’t wait for the Pasdaran to come hunting for you — join my freedom fighters and help me eliminate those corrupt bloodthirsty warmongers from the face of the planet. It’s the only way to guarantee not only your survival, but the survival of our country and our race. Otherwise, you know as well as I the Pasdaran will not stop until they’ve secured ultimate power for themselves once again.”

Yassini looked back outside the helicopter and saw several vehicles racing in his direction — they did not appear to be Pasdaran, thank God. “Listen to me, Hesarak,” he radioed, “whatever you do, don’t go on a rampage and start a killing spree in this country. The only way to keep this under control is to take command…you and I. Let’s do it together. We’ll take what’s left of the government, weed out the radicals, and start fresh. Let’s meet, Hesarak. Over.”

There was a long pause. Yassini waved at the newcomers, gesturing frantically toward the compound. “Get in there!” he shouted. “Find whoever’s being held captive in there and get them out! Hurry!”

“Hoseyn?”

“Hesarak, meet me”—he thought furiously—“in the Esplanade,” Yassini said. “We need to march off a few. Acknowledge if you understand. Over.”

There was another pause; then: “Here’s my acknowledgement, Hoseyn. Out.”

“Shit!” Yassini cursed. He gestured even more emphatically to the helpers to get inside quicker…

…but he ducked and covered instinctively as four massive, brilliant balls of light erupted from the Khomeini Library, followed moments later by four tremendous explosions that knocked Yassini clear off his feet and set the helicopter rocking on its wheels so violently he thought it might flip upside down. The blasts were followed by strings of smaller explosions. When he looked up, he saw several large mushroom clouds of smoke and fire billowing from the library, with massive columns of flames rolling skyward. It took several minutes for the clouds of smoke and fire to travel vertically instead of in all directions — and when they did, he saw that the entire compound had been leveled, with only blackened and crumpled skeletal outlines of the mosque and library buildings remaining.

ELLIOTT AIR FORCE BASE,

GROOM LAKE, NEVADA

THAT SAME TIME

“Dave, I need a full analysis of the Kavaznya region — military deployment, infrastructure, construction projects, the works,” Patrick ordered. At that moment, Colonel Martin Tehama, the commander of the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center, entered the battle staff area and stood stiffly before Patrick’s console, almost at parade rest. He was wearing his service dress blue uniform, not a utility or short-sleeved service uniform as was customary at Dreamland. “The damned Kavaznya laser just fired on the Black Stallion.”