Strike Force

“Sir, wait!” Khordad interrupted, holding his radio close to his ear. “I thought I heard another call.”

Sattari raised his own radio to his ear and listened intently. “Another squad?”

“I think it was one of the scouts, sir…”

And at that moment they heard over their radios: “Spider, Spider, this is Sparrow, reporting in the blind, I say again, warning, warning, lightning storm, lightning storm, call the children in, repeat, call the children in!”

“Ridan!” Sattari cursed. On his radio, he and Khordad both frantically called, “All Spider units, all Spider units, lightning storm, lightning storm, take cover!” Sattari then leaped to his feet, pulling Khordad and their security guard up onto their feet and pushing them toward the hole in the outer perimeter fence about fifty meters away. “Move it, move it!” he shouted. “Shoot anyone that gets in your…!”

Sattari didn’t hear the rest…because the entire warehouse complex erupted in a brilliant tidal wave of fire seconds later.

From a dozen launch sites — some as far as fifteen kilometers away — multiple volleys of artillery, rockets, and guided missiles bombarded the warehouse complex all at once. Not only was every warehouse building individually targeted and completely obliterated, but the entire complex — parking lots, storage bins, loading ramps, fences, barracks, offices, and service buildings — were bracketed. Within two minutes, every square centimeter of the entire twenty-acre complex was hit multiple times.

In moments, it was over — and not one thing was left standing in or around the complex.

IMAM ALI MILITARY ACADEMY,

TEHRAN, IRAN

SEVERAL DAYS LATER

After checking in with his supervisors by telephone, commander-in-chief of the Iranian armed forces General Hoseyn Yassini emerged from his quarters on the campus of the Imam Ali Military Academy in Tehran and began his early evening stroll across the grounds. He immediately identified at least one shadow, a young man dressed as a first-year cadet. He was far too young to be Pasdaran. More likely he was a komiteh officer, a religious-political functionary whose job it was to observe and report on any activities that might be considered a threat to the clerical regime. Like the zampolit political officers in the old Soviet Union, komiteh officers pervaded every level of Iranian life, watching and reporting on everyone from ordinary citizens on the streets to the highest levels of government. They were an abomination in a place like this military academy, but under the theocratic regime their presence was as demoralizing as it was pervasive.

Yassini’s usual evening stroll while on restriction was down the wide sidewalks of the main cluster of buildings to the parade grounds, a couple kilometers of mostly well-lit, open areas. Formerly known as the Shah Reza Pahlavi Military Academy when Yassini attended here, it was changed to the Imam Ali Academy after the revolution. A few cadets were still on the streets. Yassini enjoyed stopping them and, after the initial shock of meeting the chief of staff wore off, speaking with them and learning about their studies and training while attending the school. For the most part, the cadets were eager, respectful, proud to be wearing the uniform, and determined to spend the next twenty to thirty years in service to the Faqih and their country. Thankfully, none of them seemed to know that he was here on house arrest or why, or if they did they didn’t show any signs of displeasure.

After passing the main cluster of classroom buildings, Yassini came upon a large square courtyard, surrounded by the cadets’ barracks buildings. This was the Esplanade, or brigade assembly area, where the cadet units would gather and form up before marching off to class, functions, drills, or parades. At other times, the assembly area was used in that age-old custom familiar to cadets from all over the world for eons — marching off demerit points. Before any cadet could graduate from the Academy, he had to spend one hour marching back and forth in the assembly area for every point he had accumulated, dressed in full uniform and carrying an assault rifle. While marching, he could be grilled by any upperclassman on the Koran, any knowledge item, or critiqued on the condition of his uniform, and additional demerit points could be awarded. Cadets marched off points at any time of the day or night, in any weather, sometimes for an entire weekend if necessary to clear away demerits before graduation.

Hoseyn Yassini was a good student and leader, but he was a terrible cadet, and he spent many, many hours on this dark marble square, either marching the demerits off or scrubbing it clean, which was another acceptable way of working off demerits. Being out here as a young officer gave him a clearer sense of duty and honor, and also sharpened his mind in preparation for the grilling he knew he would get.