Strike Force

Buzhazi took a thick packet of files from Sattari and handed them to Yassini. “Copies of the evidence we’ve gathered from Orumiyeh,” he said, “proving that Badi ordered the conspiracy to attack the base and kill Iranian soldiers with Pasdaran forces disguised as Kurdish rebels in order to discredit the Internal Defense Force and further his own political ambitions.”

Yassini took the files but didn’t look at them. Keeping his eyes on Buzhazi, he dropped the files to the ground beside him. “You are too funny, Hesarak,” he said, shaking his head with a wry smile. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. Are you seriously trying to tell me all this is just you wanting to get back at that worthless piece of walking crap Muhammad Badi for concocting that ridiculous plan to discredit your precious Basij? It was obvious to everyone with half a brain in Tehran what happened in Orumiyeh. Do you expect what’s in that folder to make one bit of difference for what you’ve done in the past few days?”

He shook his head. “Hesarak, you magnificent idiot, if you had just stopped with killing Badi and escaping from Doshan Tappeh, you’d have become a legend in the Iranian military,” he said. “Hundreds of very powerful and influential men would have silently cheered for you, including some who could have pardoned you after a short stay in Anzali Prison. Badi got too powerful and pried into too many personal affairs — you just saved some other poor bastard from having to do the job. You could have even escaped to Syria or Yemen — hell, man, I probably would’ve helped you get out of the country! You’d be living like a prince in charge of some sheikh’s personal security detail.” He looked at the walls of the Khomeini Library compound. “But then you did…this. Strategically clever, I must say. If you were going for maximum shock value to the clerics in Tehran, you couldn’t have picked a better spot. Foolhardy, but clever.”

“‘Shock value’ had nothing to do with it, Hoseyn,” Buzhazi said. “Are you blind, or just preferring to act the obedient, brainless soldier? Don’t you see what the clerical regime has done to our country? The Pasdaran is out of control. There are Pasdaran troops stationed in dozens of countries from Morocco to Malaysia, and they are running al-Quds death squads in every corner of the globe. The Pasdaran has nuclear weapons, long-range ballistic missiles, submarines, and long-range bombers. For what? Some dead cleric’s idea of a global Persian empire? The return of the caliphate? This is the twenty-first century, for God’s sake.”

“Listen to you, Hesarak — fretting about empire and caliphates and political intrigue.” Yassini laughed. “Twelve years ago you were the clerics’ toughest supporter. You were ready to take on the United States of America in the Persian Gulf in support of the government — the very same government we have today!”

“I was blind and stupid back then,” Buzhazi said.

“Perhaps — but when they took the opportunity to get support from China, they abandoned your grand plan. That’s what you’re angry about, isn’t it? So which is it, Hesarak — do you truly feel the government is headed in the wrong direction, or do you just want revenge on them?” He waited for an answer; when one wasn’t forthcoming, he went on: “Do you think you’ve changed anything, Hesarak? There’s an interim government already in place, and I guarantee they’ll be tougher and more bloodthirsty than the current ones. I’ve already spoken to the acting president and defense ministers, and they want action.”

“We’ll see what kind of stomach they have for fighting.”

“You’re insane, Hesarak, insane,” Yassini chuckled. “Look, my friend, I think you’ve made your point here. The best thing you can do now is to get out and survive. I don’t know if what you’ve begun will lead to the downfall of the clerics, but alive and in exile in some other country will be better for your supporters and your cause than being dead and forgotten. Take your impressive victories and get out, while you can.”

“What is it you want, Hoseyn?”

“Simple: I want the hostages,” Yassini said.

“Because then you’ll be the hero, their savior, right?”

“What the hell do you care, Hesarak?” Yassini asked perturbedly. He shrugged, then said, “Their precious Pasdaran couldn’t save them — maybe if I lead them out of there and back to Tehran, they’ll think more of the regular armed forces and less of their ideological goon squads, and restore the military to its proper role.”

“So you do believe the Pasdaran is misguided and out of control.”

“I believe in me, Hesarak, and the forces under my command,” Yassini snapped. “Exacting your revenge on the Pasdaran is your battle, not mine. I’m here to protect my country and my government from all enemies, and right now that includes you. If the Pasdaran can’t stop you, it’s my duty to make sure the job gets done.”