Coming In Hot
Rock these Malakas
Amir Iravani met Simo’s eye, dipped his head once, and kept the eye contact.
Mike Booker saw the exchange and redirected Amir’s gaze to himself.
Simo turned his attention to the aircraft that had just landed on the carrier.
Its wings were folding back as it began turning around on the flight deck.
Soon the flight deck crews had the eight-bladed propeller aircraft repositioned for its return flight, and the rear ramp of the old aircraft opened.
Simo took off his ear protection and was welcomed by the cacophony of the aircraft’s engines and propellers.
He handed his ear protection back to his escort.
He shook the Marine’s hand and, with a small smile, his Marine saluted and left the aircraft.
Turning, he found Booker gesturing to a seat up front near Iravani.
Simo eased his bulk into the tight seat across the narrow aisle from Iravani, who seemed to have an urge to speak with him.
Within moments, the rear ramp ascended with a clunk into a closed position.
Then a naval flight crew member began passing around helmets.
Simo was handed his and managed to squeeze his head into the helmet.
He was welcomed to an in-progress conversation between Booker and Iravani.
Simo closed his eyes and prepared himself for the G-forces soon to be coming from the catapult launch off the aircraft carrier.
Then he heard a name, and his heart nearly skipped a beat.
Iravani had said, ‘Jessie James.’ As casually as he could manage, he turned his head toward Booker and Iravani.
Booker was pointing at Simo, and Iravani was looking open-mouthed at Simo.
“What?” Simo barked.
Booker’s voice came over the headset. “I will explain as soon as we are airborne.”
Simo resisted the gigantic urge to demand to know why Jessie’s name was brought up. Instead, he shrugged and turned his attention forward, ignoring the two men.
The pilot’s voice came over their headsets, indicating they would soon be taking off.
Using only his eyes, Simo glanced over at Iravani’s white-knuckled grip on the small, nearly useless armrest. Suddenly, they were being pressed back hard into their seats as the squat aircraft was being rocketed down the short flight deck.
Simo expected a dip as the old aircraft left the deck, but the C-2 Greyhound effortlessly rose above the North Arabian Sea.
“Mr. Iravani was describing the woman who contacted him in Yemen…”
“What?” Simo replied into his mouthpiece.
Booker’s voice was almost sarcastic. “I told him her name and that you, too, saved her life from a ship.”
Iravani spoke with some excitement. “This woman… you saved her as well?”
He gave Iravani a nod while his brain went into a spin, hearing details about Jessie being on a mission. He played it like he couldn’t care less, as Iravani continued to talk.
“… I understand she is an intelligent and stunning woman. I am grateful to you, Simo, as this Jessie James personally saved my wife and ultimately myself. Had I been taken to Tehran… I would have been tortured and beheaded once my country’s Revolutionary Court convicted me.
” Iravani paused and looked down. “Simo… I would like to apologize for striking and cursing you when we were on the raft.”
Simo turned and gave him a nod. “I understand. I would have done the same thing… it’s fine.”
“How did you know it was not my Effat?”
“A feeling…” was all that Simo replied as he recalled shooting the unknown woman in the back, killing her.
“Are you unwell, Simo?”
Simo stared at Iravani for a moment before he answered.
“Tired,” Simo replied, gave Iravani a nod, then met Booker’s eyes, giving the CIA man an angry glare.
Simo then turned forward, closed his eyes, and pretended to try to get some sleep.
Though, in truth, Simo’s brain was firing rapidly at the thought of Jessie being in harm’s way… in Yemen.
The C-2 Greyhound yawed and bounced as it touched down in the high crosswinds at the desert location at Al Dhafra Air Base in the United Arab Emirates.
Simo kept his eyes closed as the aircraft taxied for what seemed like several minutes.
Finally coming to a halting stop, Simo opened his eyes and watched the two Marines ready themselves with automatic weapons at the rear ramp.
Simo removed his helmet and glared intensely at Booker. “Expecting trouble?”
“Always,” Booker replied tersely.
Simo saw the nervousness in Iravani’s face as he handed his helmet to the flight crew member. Then Booker was on his feet, getting Iravani into a bulletproof vest, and finished by strapping a Kevlar helmet on his head.
“Anything you want to tell me?” Simo barked.
Booker replied as he got into a bulletproof vest as well.
“Change of plans. You will leave with the flight crew once we are safely in our vehicles. Your first-class reservation on Emirates Airlines to Los Angeles is waiting for you at Abu Dhabi airport. Your vehicle will arrive after we are gone and take you there. Oh, a diplomatic pouch will be provided for your weapon.” Booker pointed at the crewman.
Simo was handed his bag, and he looked inside, making sure his gear was all there. Looking back at Booker, “That is not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant. As I recall, you wanted to be kept out of the loop. Or did I misunderstand you?”
Simo saw Iravani watching them both. Simo eyed Iravani and pointed down the aisle toward the Marines. Booker nodded at Iravani, and Iravani quickly joined his Marine escort out of earshot.
“What the fuck was the graduation remark about on the sub?” Simo growled quietly at Booker.
“I tried to tell you, but you had a hair up your ass and you didn’t want to hear anymore. Or did you forget?”
Simo nodded angrily as he recalled his conversation aboard the submarine. “So what’s going on?”
“So now you want to know?” Booker smiled at Simo’s glare. “She passed her final exam with flying colors… though there was one caveat.”
“What is this caveat?”
“She took a round…”
“WHAT?” Simo blurted out.
“…in her vest. It cracked two of her ribs, too. She will be fine.” Booker smiled ruefully.
Simo stood there wordless, staring at Mike Booker.
Booker reached out and patted Simo’s huge shoulder.
“You should consider being at her graduation. Here’s something for you to think on…
Jessie’s alcoholic beverage of choice is Ouzo...
and only Ouzo.” Booker saw the confused look on Simo’s face, grinned, and continued, “She drinks it out of respect for you saving her life.”
“Fuck me...” Simo mumbled.
“Yeah, Buddy. Fuck you.” Booker smiled.
“I’m tired…”
“You and me both. Think about being there.” Booker glanced at his watch and shrugged. “Gotta go. Take care, Mr. Hollywood Hitman. Oh…” Booker paused, grinning. “You two would make a great team…”
“Fuck you, Booker. Never, ever going to happen, I can promise you that.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” Booker laughed, joined Iravani and the Marines at the back of the aircraft, leaving Simo to shake his head at him.
Simo stared out at the dry desert as the new Cadillac Escalade rocketed north up the E11 highway toward Abu Dhabi International Airport.
A pillar of black smoke in the distance caught his attention as they approached the E22 interchange that headed east. Simo started to rub the itch at his nose and froze as he squinted through the dark tinted windows.
He spun toward his Air Force driver, grabbed his shoulder, and shouted, “TURN RIGHT, NOW!”
“W—what?”
“Do it!” Simo held on and reached for the wheel. The airman wasted no time and veered to the right.
“Faster!” Simo urged as he dug out his .44 automatic from his bag. “Do you have a radio?”
“Yes, Sir.” The airman grabbed his two-way radio and pressed the ‘on’ button.
Simo grabbed the walkie-talkie. “What is the emergency channel?”
“Nine!”
Simo turned to the channel, and static chatter filled the interior of the big SUV.
“Oh shit!” the airman exclaimed and jammed his foot down on the brake as he came up fast on a smoking and overturned civilian car.
“Keep your head down! Where’s your weapon?”
The airman reached down into his door’s pocket and retrieved a 9mm automatic.
Simo heard what he thought was Mike Booker’s voice screaming orders from the radio.
“MIKE! IT’S SIMO! Where are you?”
“SIMO? We are in the lead vehicle in the ditch taking automatic fire from the front and rear of our position! I have four Marines down! We have an Apache inbound in five! I doubt we can hold out, can you assist?”
“I’ll be right there! Hold on to your ass!” Simo turned to the airman. “Get out!”
“Sir, I can help!”
“Get in the back and watch our ass!” The airman jumped out and raced into the back seat as Simo squeezed his bulk into the driver’s seat. “Hold on!”
Simo put the big Cadillac into gear and drove off the highway into the sandy drainage culvert and onto the desert sand. He floored the SUV and bypassed three burning vehicles that were being used as a barricade for any approaching emergency vehicles.
As Simo raced eastward, he saw black-clad shooters behind a black BMW sporadically firing toward two wrecked Chevy Tahoes.
One was on fire. Simo guessed it had been the chase vehicle.
He floored the gas pedal, jumped the culvert, and raced directly at the three men firing AK-47s.
“Hold ON!” Simo yelled as he barreled the SUV forward.
The BMW shooters all turned at once, bringing their weapons to bear.
At the last moment, as Simo neared the shooters, Simo put the big Cadillac into a sideways skid on the hot asphalt directly in their path.
Too shocked to run or fire their weapons, the three black-clad men began to dive away from Simo’s skidding Cadillac.