accurate fire before it hit a rock, flipped over on to its side and screeched to a halt in a shower of steam and sand.
The pursuing truck quickly caught up and skidded to a stop alongside. Troops piled out and surrounded the crippled vehicle. Amidst shouting and brutal treatment meted out by their captors, Cane and the others were quickly disarmed, rounded up, bound and herded into the Iranian truck.
Ryderâs Mercedes sped on hotly pursued, Brady straining to maintain control. Ryder lay flat to the boards returning fire protected only by the low metal sides and tailboard. Bullets whined and ricocheted everywhere off the framework. The vehicle swung hard right down into the protection of a flat, shallow wadi and raced along its bed for less than 200 yards before the engine finally gave out and the battered truck rolled to a halt.
Leaping from the wreck, Ryder and the remaining Green Berets ran for the edge of the wadi in a desperate attempt to escape, but it was futile. No sooner had they reached the base when the two pursuing trucks, headlights blazing, raced towards them and skidded to a halt. Heavily armed troops disgorged, fanned out and clambered down into the wadi. Sporadic fire ensued and incoming rounds sprayed the ground all around where they sheltered. They were quickly surrounded.
Ryder, still dazed from the impact, considered, for a brief moment, to make one last stand and take as many with him as possible, but with only a little ammunition left saw it was hopeless. He felt despair; the going from this point on would be tough if he lived through this; he feared for his life. All he could do now was hope for a political exchange, but even that was a remote possibility. Throwing down his rifle he stood and raised his arms, expecting a bullet at any moment. The others followed and soon all were brutally rounded up, bound and frogmarched to join Cane and the rest. With Lieutenant Owen dead, together with the two commandos who died in the fleeing trucks, only Ryder and nine of the original twelve-man American team were now left.
Operation Overflow had come to a premature and ignominious end.
6
Under a clear blue sky, Afari Asgari watched with a mixture of hate and fear as the late model Mercedes turned into the local market place; a wide street teeming with people and lined with colourful stalls. Her hate burned fiercely from the death of her parents by the brutal ruling regime and her fear from what might happen if she failed to succeed at what she was about to do. These emotions were mitigated a little at the thought her actions might, in no small way, help to destroy Iranâs ambitions to become a major nuclear power. Her target, the vehicle with a police motorcycle escort, which slowly pushed its way through the noisy throng; in the rear sat the leading scientist controlling Iranâs nuclear weapons programme. The current president, although seemingly wanting better relationships with the West, was unable to thwart these ambitions coveted by the opposition and the hawks within his own party. But most importantly, he did not have the backing of the supreme religious leader â the ayatollah. These factions wanted beyond all else to exert total power over the region, and Afari, along with many others in the MEK (Peopleâs Mujahedin of Iran), wanted no part. Today the scientist would pay for his role in these ambitions.
Controlling her fear, she stepped out from her vantage point into the milling crowd and headed towards the vehicle, praying the others were ready. Concealed within her
jilbab
she carried a small but powerful pre-set magnetic charge. The vehicle slowed; she got closer â heart pounding.
Suddenly, the Mercedes halted to avoid the lead police motorcyclist from being bowled over by melons cascading in large numbers from a collapsed stall. Fellow conspirators had done their job; now it was her turn. The rear police escort pushed his motorbike forward to help his fallen colleague,
The pursuing truck quickly caught up and skidded to a stop alongside. Troops piled out and surrounded the crippled vehicle. Amidst shouting and brutal treatment meted out by their captors, Cane and the others were quickly disarmed, rounded up, bound and herded into the Iranian truck.
Ryderâs Mercedes sped on hotly pursued, Brady straining to maintain control. Ryder lay flat to the boards returning fire protected only by the low metal sides and tailboard. Bullets whined and ricocheted everywhere off the framework. The vehicle swung hard right down into the protection of a flat, shallow wadi and raced along its bed for less than 200 yards before the engine finally gave out and the battered truck rolled to a halt.
Leaping from the wreck, Ryder and the remaining Green Berets ran for the edge of the wadi in a desperate attempt to escape, but it was futile. No sooner had they reached the base when the two pursuing trucks, headlights blazing, raced towards them and skidded to a halt. Heavily armed troops disgorged, fanned out and clambered down into the wadi. Sporadic fire ensued and incoming rounds sprayed the ground all around where they sheltered. They were quickly surrounded.
Ryder, still dazed from the impact, considered, for a brief moment, to make one last stand and take as many with him as possible, but with only a little ammunition left saw it was hopeless. He felt despair; the going from this point on would be tough if he lived through this; he feared for his life. All he could do now was hope for a political exchange, but even that was a remote possibility. Throwing down his rifle he stood and raised his arms, expecting a bullet at any moment. The others followed and soon all were brutally rounded up, bound and frogmarched to join Cane and the rest. With Lieutenant Owen dead, together with the two commandos who died in the fleeing trucks, only Ryder and nine of the original twelve-man American team were now left.
Operation Overflow had come to a premature and ignominious end.
6
Under a clear blue sky, Afari Asgari watched with a mixture of hate and fear as the late model Mercedes turned into the local market place; a wide street teeming with people and lined with colourful stalls. Her hate burned fiercely from the death of her parents by the brutal ruling regime and her fear from what might happen if she failed to succeed at what she was about to do. These emotions were mitigated a little at the thought her actions might, in no small way, help to destroy Iranâs ambitions to become a major nuclear power. Her target, the vehicle with a police motorcycle escort, which slowly pushed its way through the noisy throng; in the rear sat the leading scientist controlling Iranâs nuclear weapons programme. The current president, although seemingly wanting better relationships with the West, was unable to thwart these ambitions coveted by the opposition and the hawks within his own party. But most importantly, he did not have the backing of the supreme religious leader â the ayatollah. These factions wanted beyond all else to exert total power over the region, and Afari, along with many others in the MEK (Peopleâs Mujahedin of Iran), wanted no part. Today the scientist would pay for his role in these ambitions.
Controlling her fear, she stepped out from her vantage point into the milling crowd and headed towards the vehicle, praying the others were ready. Concealed within her
jilbab
she carried a small but powerful pre-set magnetic charge. The vehicle slowed; she got closer â heart pounding.
Suddenly, the Mercedes halted to avoid the lead police motorcyclist from being bowled over by melons cascading in large numbers from a collapsed stall. Fellow conspirators had done their job; now it was her turn. The rear police escort pushed his motorbike forward to help his fallen colleague,
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