Strike Force

“And so must you, Corporal,” Buzhazi said. “What are your orders?” The jailer blinked and said nothing. “You were not given any orders, so you assumed I was to be treated like any other prisoner and processed in the usual manner, correct?” The jailer was obviously still mentally wrestling with this very nonstandard encounter. “What is your name, Corporal?”

“Tahmasbi…” Buzhazi let his eyes dig into the jailer’s until he added, “Sir.”

“Corporal Tahmasbi, as your superior officer,” Buzhazi said in an even, trusting, measured voice, “I instruct you to secure me in a conference room, with access to a telephone and computer if available. Bring in some fresh juice for me from the mess. If there are any other flag grade officers in this facility that have not been charged with a crime, bring them in here as well.” The jailer just stood there, dumbfounded. “Corporal? Do you understand these instructions?”

“Yes, sir, but…”

“But what? Do any of my orders violate your general orders or any other orders you have been issued since you have assumed this post?”

The jailer thought for a moment, and his eyes brightened. “No, sir, they do not.”

“Then get your ass in gear, now,” Buzhazi said. “If your sergeant major has any questions, have him come see me. Now take me to a conference room.”

“Yes, sir.” The jailer averted his eyes and opened the door to the processing room.

“Corporal Tahmasbi.” The jailer stopped as if stuck in concrete. “You can’t just let me walk out of here, can you? I’m supposed to be in your custody.” The jailer meekly nodded and carefully, almost gingerly, took Buzhazi by the arm. “And, Corporal?”

“Sir?”

“Just because you work in the jails and generally only see the scum of our proud military does not mean you can go around with an unkempt beard, dirty uniform, and unpolished boots,” Buzhazi said, looking the man directly in the eyes, not raising his voice at all but speaking firmly and authoritatively. “If you want to act like a soldier, look like a soldier. And get yourself into a gym and replace that fat with some muscle. I can teach you how to control a man with the lightest touch, but I need something to work with first. Get yourself into shape and I’ll make a shock trooper out of you in no time.”

Things went much easier from that moment on. Buzhazi allowed himself to be led by the upper left arm — it would look better to others if the jailer physically held him — through the hallway to a large briefing room where each shift was briefed before beginning their tour of duty. That was where they found a Pasdaran master sergeant at a desk, doing paperwork. As soon as Buzhazi saw the noncommissioned officer in the room, he loosened himself from the jailer’s grasp and strode ahead of him. The master sergeant saw the general enter the room, shot to his feet, and stood at attention. “Room, atten-shun!” he said.

“As you were, master sergeant,” Buzhazi said. “I am General Buzhazi, commander of the Iranian Internal Defense Forces. I have need of this room.” He turned to the jailer. “Thank you, Corporal. Carry on.” The jailer snapped to attention, then got out of there as fast as he could. Buzhazi turned back to the NCO. “Your name, Master Sergeant?”

“Fattah, sir.”

“Do you recognize me, Master Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir. You…are the former chief of staff. I believe you are currently commander of the Basij…”

“I prefer they be referred to as the Internal Security Forces,” Buzhazi corrected him. The master sergeant nodded, his mind obviously still in a bit of confusion as to what was going on. “You were notified of my arrival here?”

“The message informed me that you are to be held here until further notice. You will be sent to a separate wing until…”

“Until my office is ready, this room will suffice.”

The NCO hesitated. “Office, sir?”

“I’m here to organize the detail that will be sent out to hunt down the terrorists that perpetrated the attack on my units in Orumiyeh.”

“But I thought…er, I thought…”

“We don’t think around here, Master Sergeant — we have orders which must be obeyed until officially countermanded by legitimate orders from a verified higher authority. What are your orders regarding me, Master Sergeant?”

“I…I was told in the message to hold you and await instructions.”

“I am issuing additional instructions to you now,” Buzhazi said, “that do not violate any other orders and as such you will obey immediately. You will clear two phone lines for me and give me the passcodes to access the secure high-speed computer network lines. Where are my staff officers?”

“‘Staff officers,’ sir?”

“I was assured that other officers that are to be under my command were sent here, with orders that they are to be detained until further notice. They were to report to me as soon as possible. Where are they?”