Chapter 32

The Talish Mountains, Iran Azerbaijan border
April 12, 2006, 1600 Local Time

Razmara stared through the swirling snow at the sight that had stopped the lead man. It was a large metal box, open at one end. What looked like two cameras, positioned side by side on top of the box, pointed directly at him, like a pair of eyes. The sight was disturbingly unexpected, then the cameras rotated away like eyes that had seen enough. Razmara stood in shocked silence. He heard the man beside him praying. The cameras rotated around, and once again stopped when they pointed directly at him. He though he heard the whir of an electric motor. One of the men behind asked what was happening.

One part of his mind told him this was just a storage container that happened to have revolving cameras on top. Another part told him this was alien and dangerous, and to stay away from it.

The rational part of his mind got the upper hand, and he waved the men behind him forward. At the same time, he started talking to them, in order to lessen the impact of the sight.

“It's a storage container, the ambushers left behind. They must have lifted it in by helicopter. The cameras are a security system like the ones they have in some of the government buildings in Tehran. I have seen them before, and it is nothing to worry about. Follow me!”

He pushed other questions, like 'who was controlling it?', out of his mind, and led his men toward the strange container. The cameras followed them all the way.

“You two, stand guard over there. I don't want anyone surprising us.”

Now he was closer, he could see what was clearly the barrel of a weapon just below the cameras, pointed directly at him. He sensed Mahvash standing behind him in silence.

Razmara walked to within five meters of the metal container, and started to circle around it. He could see a ramp at the open end. The interior of the container appeared empty except for some equipment attached to the roof and back wall.

He moved closer to get a better look inside the container. Suddenly a circle of red light appeared on the ramp directly in front of him. He didn’t know what the light signified, so he waited apprehensively for what might happen.

Thirty seconds later, he heard a whooshing sound, and a large bird swooped out of the snow, landing right in the center of the circle of light. He felt the downdraft from its wings as it past in front of his face. He was dumbstruck by the sight.

The bird stood immobile with its wings outstretched. He heard muttered words behind him including devil and demon, but he realized this was not a demon. This was man-made, but who had made it, and why had they left something so obviously valuable here in these mountains? Why had the ambushers brought it, in the first place? How could it fly on its own? The questions crowded in without answers.

An answer did come to a question he had been avoiding; how to get out of this dangerous Jihad nonsense with his reputation and promotion prospects intact? He saw the answer in the shape of the large man-made bird. It would surely provide the answer to who the ambushers were, and would bring him to the attention of the highest powers in the Islamic Republic.

He reached out and touched its body. It was cold to the touch, but not metallic cold. He saw a rod appear from the rear of the container, and move rapidly in the direction of the mechanical bird. Almost instinctively, he grabbed the top of the bird and lifted it up before the rod reached it.

The bird was surprisingly light. It was also now his.

Razmara turned with the bird held in his outstretched hand. All eyes were on him, including the camera eyes on the container. As he issued orders, he nervously eyed the container's weapon, expecting it to fire at any moment.

“We are taking this bird machine back to Iran. The ambushers have left. We will find the trail, and follow it back down the valley. You two, lead the way. Let's go!”

As they made their way toward the trail, the snow began to lessen in intensity.

The man in front stopped and called out, “I've found the trail.”

Razmara issued more orders. “They may have mined the trail, so I want us spaced out. Try to walk in the man in front's footprints and move quickly.”

He told the men the order he wanted them in, and placed himself second from last. Despite its light weight, the mechanical bird was awkward to carry, and his arm ached from the effort of holding it outstretched. He experimented with different ways to carry the bird, and settled on holding it by one hand over his shoulder, with the back of the bird resting on his back. The position was more comfortable, and he would be easily able to carry the bird a considerable distance.

In the time it took to find the best way carry the bird, two of the three men ahead of him had disappeared from view. Razmara had just started to follow the footsteps they left in the snow, when a shot echoed across the pass. It was followed by the sound of a Kalashnikov firing a three-round burst, then a second three-round burst, and almost simultaneously another single shot. Razmara saw the man ahead of him drop to the ground, at the same instant he did.

The ambushers were still there, and his men had come upon them from behind. Now was the time for his planned coordinated attack. But his possession of the bird had changed his priorities. He no longer needed to follow his orders to the letter in order to impress his superiors, the bird would do that.

He called out “Come back. Come back.”

The man ahead of him replied. “I'm coming, sir.”

A single shot rang out, and echoed around the high mountains. Razmara saw the man slump to the ground, his head a bloody mess, and then only silence. Razmara hated to leave his men behind, without knowing what had happened to them, but he believed all three were dead. His priority now, was to get the mechanical bird back to Iran, and find out what it proved about the ambushers.

Razmara moved around on his stomach to face the man behind him. “Mahvash, we will go back the way we came. You lead, and I'll follow. Quickly! We have to get out of here.”

Both men got to their feet, and in a crouching run, retraced their footprints in the snow. Less than a minute later, they came to the place where their footprints went to the right, toward the strange container. They turned, and followed them.

Still clutching the mechanical bird, Razmara followed close behind Mahvash. A shot rang out, and Mahvash slumped to the ground a few meters in front of him. He caught a glimpse of the cameras on top of the container as he dropped to the ground. At the same instant he heard a second shot, he felt it pass just over his head. He lay still for a moment, his heart pounding, before starting to crawl urgently, and awkwardly, back the way he had come, still clutching the bird on his back.

When he reached the trail, he faced the decision he had been avoiding. What should he do next?

The route along the mountainside was blocked. The trail back into Iran was blocked. The only other way, was the trail into Azerbaijan, but that would mean trying to meet up with his men, continuing with their mission, many months away from his family, and, in all likelihood, ending up dead or in prison for years. It also meant leaving the mechanical bird behind.

He started to crawl toward Azerbaijan, not because that was his intended destination, but because it was the only direction he could put distance between himself and the ambushers and their killer machine. When he had crawled several hundred meters, he looked back, confirmed no one was in view, and got to his feet. He turned to the right, intending to climb the side of the pass, and get high enough for the walkie-talkie radio to reach his men waiting at the barricade. He needed to find out what had happened to them, and whether they were capable of mounting an attack to rescue him.

He walked quickly across the snow-covered rock, looking continually to his right to ensure nothing came after him. He had yet to see any sign of the men directing the machines.
The container he had seen was clearly incapable of moving under its own power, but it was empty, and that meant it had held something. Perhaps, what it had held was capable of pursuing him.

He began to climb the steep mountainside. It was difficult with one hand gripping the bird on his back, but he climbed as far as he could in the fading light. When he was high above the pass, he felt a little safer. The darkness would hide him. Tomorrow, he would find a way past the strange container with the camera eyes, and the hidden ambushers, back into Iran.

He found a ledge, almost a shallow cave, and placed the mechanical bird as far back on the ledge as he could. He didn't want a gust of wind blowing his precious prize away. He sat with his back against the rock of the mountainside, took out his radio, and pressed the transmit button.

“This is Captain Razmara. Come in. Come in.”

He took his finger off the transmit button, and listened to the buzz of static.

He looked at the fluorescent dial of his watch, a present from his wife, and decided to try the radio every half hour. It would help pass what promised to be a sleepless night.

Razmara pulled the collar of his coat up to reach his woolen cap. He was warm if not particularly comfortable. Thank God, he had worn his thick sheepskin coat. It would ensure he didn't die of exposure on this mountainside.

Would the men come searching for him in the dark or wait until dawn. He gripped his pistol and peered into the darkness, waiting.

Chapter 33