Strike Force

Buzhazi nodded, falling silent. The two men looked at each other carefully, sizing up each other’s words and mannerisms. Then Buzhazi said, “Let’s get down to it, Hoseyn.”

“Whatever you say, Hesarak,” Yassini said. “This deal is between you and me. Tehran thinks I’m coming down here tomorrow morning to take personal command of the forces that will pry you out of Qom, dead or alive. I’m here early and without the interim Supreme Defense Council’s notice or authority as a colleague, a fellow soldier of Iran, and someone who has learned and studied under you and now has the opportunity to repay you for your dedicated years of service to our country.

“Let us speak like men and warriors, Hesarak,” Yassini went on, pointing to his right eye, a symbol that he was pledging to tell the truth. “The Pasdaran number approximately one hundred and fifty thousand. You have taken perhaps three percent of that number out of action — an impressive feat, but not nearly enough for your mission to succeed. You and I both know this to be true.

“You may get some regular army soldiers and perhaps even some Pasdaran to join you, but how many? Five thousand? Ten thousand at the very most? Even if you get fifteen thousand to join you, you are still outnumbered almost ten to one. You cannot hope to win, my friend. It is a simple numbers game. The Pasdaran may not be the best infantry fighters in the world, but they don’t have to be — the numbers are against you. You could be the greatest battlefield commander on Iranian soil since Alexander the Great, but even he had a massive army and access to all the supplies his forces needed. You have neither.

“Here is what I propose, Hesarak, and if you were smart and truly cared for the soldiers in that compound, you would accept immediately,” Yassini went on. “You must release the clerics and politicians you hold hostage. That is nonnegotiable. I trust you have not harmed them — they are politicians and may be your ideological adversaries, but they are not combatants. You are too honorable of a soldier to harm unarmed noncombatants.”

“And the second step?”

“There is no second step today, Hesarak,” Yassini said. “Release the hostages to me. As you can see, I have no army behind me — yet. In twelve hours I’ll have one special ops brigade ready to go, with another on the way. By dawn I will present my assault plan to the interim Supreme Defense Council for approval, and shortly after that I will begin to retake the Khomeini Library by force. If you or anyone else still in that compound tries to resist when I come in, I’ll slaughter every last one of you.”

“What about the Pasdaran in Qom?”

“My plan only involves the regular army and air force, not the Pasdaran,” Yassini said. “I think after their earlier debacle they’ll be happy to turn over this operation to the army. They’ll stay away from this part of the province — I can guarantee it.”

“So you don’t like the Pasdaran either,” Buzhazi observed. “You think they’re corrupt and ineffectual, as I do.”

“The Pasdaran will fall because of their own mistakes and blind ideological allegiances, not because I’m fighting them,” Yassini said. “As incompetent as I think they are, I’m not stupid enough to take them on directly, like you.”

“So you’ll simply let us escape?”

“I have no idea what you are doing or where you go, Hesarak, because officially I’m not here,” Yassini said. “All I know is that any of your forces still in that compound by tomorrow afternoon will be either dead or my prisoner.”

Buzhazi was silent for a few moments, then nodded his head. “I understand, Hoseyn,” he said. “I thank you for your fairness and honesty.”

“Don’t thank me, General — just get the hell out of here. Go to France; go to South America; go to Indonesia, I don’t care, but just go. Don’t ever come back. You’re an old man — let the younger men fight. Become their inspirational leader from the comfort of a secure hideout someplace where the Pasdaran or their death squads can’t reach you, or at least you can see them coming. Just don’t set foot in Iran ever again, because if I’m still in charge of the armed forces — which I fully intend to be — I’ll bury your bullet-ridden body so deeply in the desert that it’ll take scientists a millennia to find your bones.”

“I understand your warning, Hoseyn.”

“You’d better do more than that, Hesarak.”

“And I have a word of warning for you, my friend: keep the gates of your bases locked and guarded, and don’t let anyone in — especially Pasdaran,” Buzhazi said. “Don’t go back to Tehran or the Ministry of Defense — I suggest the alternate command center at Mashhad or someplace where Pasdaran forces aren’t heavily concentrated. Whether I’m dead or alive, whoever is in charge of the regular army will be blamed for everything I’ve done. Protect yourselves at all times. Trust no one.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, General — worry about yourself. Get out while you still can. This is my final warning.”