Throw Down by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2012-09-21T16:00:00+00:00

8

Situated on a plateau in the northeast of Iran, the Elburz Mountains create a scenic view from Tehran, with the cone-shaped Mount Damavand rising higher than the other peaks. The panorama hadn’t changed in thousands of years.

But the view was practically the only thing that didn’t change in Iran.

In the days of the Shah, Iran had become a westernized country somewhat similar to Israel. As a friend of the U.S., it had enjoyed a booming economy and progressive attitude. Iranian military personnel, especially pilots, had been trained in the United States, and even undertaken joint practice operations with American forces. But the Shah had overstepped his power, using his infamous secret police—the Savak—to become a deadly dictator. And eventually, as always happens sooner or later in such cases, the people of Iran had revolted.

In what seemed like the twinkling of an eye, the Shah had been forced to flee to the U.S., and an exiled Muslim clergyman, the Ayatollah Khomeini, had taken the seat of power. Khomeini had then turned the country into an even more repressive, backward, Islamic theocracy.

But many years after the Ayatollah’s death, another movement was simmering within Iran. Students in particular were tired of the archaic philosophies forced upon them. And while they had not yet gained the power it would take to return Iran to a democracy, the country was once again split in its attitude toward a government based upon sharia law.

The mountains were clearly visible as Ali Mohammed guided the Toyota Highlander the last few miles through the outskirts of Tehran. He and the three men with him had ridden in near silence since disposing of the bodies of the road bandits and entering the vehicle. But Bolan knew it was time to talk. To find out just exactly how this new informant was capable of helping them.

Not to mention beginning to form an opinion as to whether or not the Iranian could be trusted.

Bolan rode in the shotgun seat of the Highlander, with Ahmad directly behind him and Father O’Melton behind the driver. They had retrieved the backpacks that had fallen with them from the sky, and stored them in the rear of the vehicle, and Bolan had returned his primary weapons to their hiding places beneath his jacket.

As the only sounds within the car were those that managed to penetrate the rolled up windows, Bolan turned to Mohammed. “Tell me why you ended your relationship with the CIA,” he said.

The man wore a white turban with a gold crescent moon holding it together in the center of his forehead, but was otherwise clad in an off-white business suit and maroon necktie. He continued to stare at the road ahead as he answered, “I was double-crossed.” Venom seemed to drip out with the words. “And it nearly cost me my life.”

Bolan sat quietly for a moment, thinking. He had worked with the CIA many times in the past, and it was certainly not beyond them to expose their informants if they believed it would serve a higher good.

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