The plane continued its descent into the city, circling over the city’s sprawling growth of concrete and steel.
Adriana retreated to the rear of the plane to try on her burkha. She wouldn’t need it in Azerbaijan but making sure it fit properly wasn’t something she wanted to do on a small watercraft as they tried to sneak into Iran illegally.
A few minutes later, she reappeared, covered head to toe with the jet-black outfit. “I don’t know how women wear these things all the time,” she complained. “It’s difficult to see clearly out of it.”
Tommy laughed. “You know, Iran is kind of progressive now. You could have worn jeans and a light jacket to go with that headpiece.”
Her eyes flung daggers at him, but from behind the veil, he barely noticed.
“I’m just saying. But better safe than sari, right…get it…sari…never mind.”
Sean shook his head. “That’s India, man.”
“I know. I just thought…whatever. Sari I brought it up.”
Adriana had been raised just outside of Madrid on her father’s estate. Part of being European was a general tendency to be a little more on the liberal side of things. Adriana’s schooling and friendships had cemented that belief system along the way.
Tommy left the conversation about her outfit and got back to business. “We’ll be meeting with our contact in fifty minutes in an old textile warehouse about three miles from the airport. Mick will pick us up and take us to the rendezvous point in Tehran. Our support is going to be sneaking across the border by land. Once we’ve been outfitted, we’ll probably be on our own.”
Sean agreed. “We’ll be fine. It’ll be easier to move around with just the three of us.”
“Like a bull in a china shop,” Tommy quipped.
“Yeah, and for the first hour we’re there, we need to keep things quiet.”
“You think this man, Al Najaar, knows where we’re headed?”
“Probably not Azerbaijan. But I’d say it’s a safe bet he knows we’re going to Susa. If he’s ahead, he’ll take precautions.”
“And if he’s behind?”
A familiar sly grin crept onto Sean’s face.
“I’ve got a plan for that too.”
29
Mick was a stout, red-haired grunt of man. From the second Sean laid eyes on him, he knew they’d called on the right guy. Everything about the smuggler told Sean the man knew what he was doing. And Mick was a stickler for details.
From the second the three walked into the empty textile warehouse, Mick made sure they understood everything about what was about to happen. They’d wait until sunset to make the drive to the boat and board it under the cover of darkness. Crossing the border on the water would take less than an hour. When they made land, Mick’s man on the other side would take them into the city to meet their contacts at the predetermined rendezvous point.
The drive down the coast took longer than Sean would have liked but was truly the quickest route. It didn’t help that they were sitting in the back of a delivery truck. This clearly wasn’t the first time Mick had smuggled people. A small air conditioning unit was attached to the wall to vent cool air into the boxy cargo area. Without it, the temperature inside would have been unbearable.
Boxes were stacked here and there, though they hardly took up the majority of space. This was an additional run, Mick had explained in the warehouse, so he wouldn’t have a full truck. He figured if he was making the run he might as well take a few extra things along. The man was all about efficiency.
The occupants felt the truck slow and lean to the right. They were turning left. The smooth ride on the asphalt immediately turned bumpy. Though he couldn’t see outside, Sean figured they’d turned onto an access road of some kind.
Ten minutes of jostling went by before the truck finally came to a stop. The slide door on the back went up, and the scent of salty air rushed into the cargo area. The new moon shone down on the beach with just enough light for the travelers to see the small boat anchored a few hundred feet out. Two wooden dinghies were beached nearby, and one of Mick’s men was already busy getting them ready to head out to the boat.
“Go ahead, and grab a few boxes on your way to the dinghies, if you don’t mind,” Mick ordered.
None of the three complained and happily helped unload the cargo and carry it over to the dinghies. The process took less than five minutes, and soon, they were bobbing through the waves courtesy of a single outboard motor.
Arriving at the boat, they had been greeted by a toothy older man with bronze, wrinkled skin. He wore a stained yellow tunic and linen pants. He politely helped Adriana aboard while leaving Tommy and Sean to heft themselves up the small ladder on the starboard side. Mick and his rider quickly loaded the boxes aboard the larger vessel. He tied one of the dinghies to the back of the boat, and once everything was aboard, waved off his assistant. The man steered his dinghy away and guided it back to land.
“This is Aman,” Mick said, introducing the three to the boat’s captain. “He’ll be taking us across the border. He doesn’t say much, but he’s a good man and a great smuggler.”
Aman nodded, still grinning broadly.
“We appreciate your help,” Tommy said, exchanging a nod with him.
“You can have a seat up there,” Mick pointed to the front of the boat where some wooden benches jutted out from the hull. “We should be there in about fifty minutes.”
Aman stepped into the wheelhouse and started the engine. A moment later, the vessel was gliding across the calm water, headed south.
Fifteen minutes into the journey, Mick made his way to where his guests were sitting and pointed toward the dark shore. An outcropping of light illuminated the sky in the distance, and several more dotted the coast where homes and fishing compounds occupied the land.
“We’re in Iranian waters now,” he said. “Just passed the border.”
A chill went through Tommy’s spine.
For Sean, it was just another day at the office. He’d done several clandestine entries like this before although never with people he cared about on a personal level.
“Thanks, Mick,” Sean said with a nod. “We’ll be ready to make for land at your word.”
Mick nodded and went back inside the flimsy structure.
The salty air blew over Sean’s face and hair. For a minute, he was back in Destin, inhaling deeply. The next minute, he looked off the starboard bow at the Iranian coastline. Buildings were sparse in this region, which is why Mick had chosen it for their entry point. Half an hour later, Aman veered the boat toward a dark patch of land well out of sight from any man-made lights. The boat slowed to a coasting stop. It bobbed in the gentle Caspian waves as the three stood up and grabbed their few belongings.
“We need to move fast,” Mick said. “Help me get those boxes on the dinghy, and we’ll be gone.” He turned his attention to Aman. “You know the drill. If I’m not back in twenty minutes…” he trailed off, and the boat’s captain nodded.
Sean grabbed the rope and started pulling the smaller craft to starboard while the others hurriedly picked up the boxes and got them ready for transfer. Once the dinghy was tied off on the side, they placed the cargo carefully on the little vessel’s bottom. The process didn’t take long, and a few minutes later, the nose of the small craft was digging into the beach. The outline of a few palm trees stretched out against the dark backdrop of the starry night sky.