Read Black Hawk Day Rewind: An action packed spy thriller (Mark Savannah Espionage Series Book 1) for Free Online
Authors: Dominick Fencer, Baibin Nighthawk
traditional social patterns to give, as far as possible, a "normal" element to his life, and he asked himself if he wanted Elizabeth as his partner. His demons laughed at him, stung him with images of his mother, memories he hated so much that he wished Elizabeth would just leave quickly.
“I'll call you when I get back,” he said softly, accompanying her to the elevator.
“Why don't you call me or maybe write when you're free during the conference?” Elizabeth replied, annoyed and surprised at the same time. “I don’t think I’m asking for the moon. I don’t think you'll be working 24-hours a day non-stop. Obviously you have little desire to talk to me,” she added, coldly pressing the call button for the elevator.
Mark did not answer. He kissed her on the cheek and waited for the elevator doors to close. A pleasant and intelligent woman was not nearly enough to make him feel alive.
The sex tired him, he had to control everything, taking command of her and then he was forced to step up the rhythm to get his pleasure, while she was practically “on hold”.
‘Par for the course, I suppose,’ he thought, wrinkling his nose as he slipped under the blankets after a hot shower and an evening that had not left a trace in his head or his soul.
He turned off the light at two in the morning and, before falling into deep sleep, he focused on the mission that he now had to complete: terminating Uday Bouda.
13
Tehran was terrifying: the traffic was crazy at all hours of the day. The city had been built hurriedly without taking into account urban and environmental issues; it was like a huge patchwork Persian carpet of overlapping pieces covering haphazardly the lowland that surrounded the City and separated the desert from the Elburz mountain chain.
There were five of them, all men; his companions were passionate about the mountains and well trained.
They were members of a Swiss club that organized difficult excursions to various parts of the world each year. This time they would be in Iran, Afghanistan and Turkmenistan.
They left for the Elburz the day after they arrived in Tehran. The scenery was stunning and their days were perfectly organized. They hiked for nine hours a day and stopped in shelters at night, traveling by helicopter only when it became absolutely necessary.
It felt like being on vacation to Mark; the company was pleasant and highly motivated, and Dizin, Shemshak and Darbashar had left a beautiful impression in his mind.
He needed to become familiar with fatigue and altitude again, as well as entering Afghanistan quietly, crossing the troubled and hectic commercial border.
They spent the last two days on Damavand, a dormant volcano, the highest peak in the Middle East, but they remained below 13,000 feet so as not to over-exert themselves needlessly after five days' march under conditions that would put a strain even on professional climbers.
As planned, the helicopter arrived in the early afternoon at the base camp, which had been set up at 6,500 feet.
They quickly loaded all the equipment and set off for the Afghan border. The helicopter would not enter Afghan airspace; it would drop them and their luggage at the border. There would be a driver to pick them up in Islam Qala and take them to Herat.
From Herat they would leave by plane for Kabul to test themselves for a few days against the Hindu Kush.
But Mark would be staying in Herat, and he needed to decide how to leave his companions without raising suspicion.
14
On arrival they were all exhausted. Esmatullah, the driver who was waiting for them, let them sit in his dusty and dented minivan, and much to his surprise they all fell asleep almost instantly.
Mark, however, was awake when they were crossing Islam Qala.
Lines of trucks loaded with goods filled the border crossing as truckers jostled one another to get into Iran ahead of each other.
Groups of dirty and hungry children without parents wandered beside
“I'll call you when I get back,” he said softly, accompanying her to the elevator.
“Why don't you call me or maybe write when you're free during the conference?” Elizabeth replied, annoyed and surprised at the same time. “I don’t think I’m asking for the moon. I don’t think you'll be working 24-hours a day non-stop. Obviously you have little desire to talk to me,” she added, coldly pressing the call button for the elevator.
Mark did not answer. He kissed her on the cheek and waited for the elevator doors to close. A pleasant and intelligent woman was not nearly enough to make him feel alive.
The sex tired him, he had to control everything, taking command of her and then he was forced to step up the rhythm to get his pleasure, while she was practically “on hold”.
‘Par for the course, I suppose,’ he thought, wrinkling his nose as he slipped under the blankets after a hot shower and an evening that had not left a trace in his head or his soul.
He turned off the light at two in the morning and, before falling into deep sleep, he focused on the mission that he now had to complete: terminating Uday Bouda.
13
Tehran was terrifying: the traffic was crazy at all hours of the day. The city had been built hurriedly without taking into account urban and environmental issues; it was like a huge patchwork Persian carpet of overlapping pieces covering haphazardly the lowland that surrounded the City and separated the desert from the Elburz mountain chain.
There were five of them, all men; his companions were passionate about the mountains and well trained.
They were members of a Swiss club that organized difficult excursions to various parts of the world each year. This time they would be in Iran, Afghanistan and Turkmenistan.
They left for the Elburz the day after they arrived in Tehran. The scenery was stunning and their days were perfectly organized. They hiked for nine hours a day and stopped in shelters at night, traveling by helicopter only when it became absolutely necessary.
It felt like being on vacation to Mark; the company was pleasant and highly motivated, and Dizin, Shemshak and Darbashar had left a beautiful impression in his mind.
He needed to become familiar with fatigue and altitude again, as well as entering Afghanistan quietly, crossing the troubled and hectic commercial border.
They spent the last two days on Damavand, a dormant volcano, the highest peak in the Middle East, but they remained below 13,000 feet so as not to over-exert themselves needlessly after five days' march under conditions that would put a strain even on professional climbers.
As planned, the helicopter arrived in the early afternoon at the base camp, which had been set up at 6,500 feet.
They quickly loaded all the equipment and set off for the Afghan border. The helicopter would not enter Afghan airspace; it would drop them and their luggage at the border. There would be a driver to pick them up in Islam Qala and take them to Herat.
From Herat they would leave by plane for Kabul to test themselves for a few days against the Hindu Kush.
But Mark would be staying in Herat, and he needed to decide how to leave his companions without raising suspicion.
14
On arrival they were all exhausted. Esmatullah, the driver who was waiting for them, let them sit in his dusty and dented minivan, and much to his surprise they all fell asleep almost instantly.
Mark, however, was awake when they were crossing Islam Qala.
Lines of trucks loaded with goods filled the border crossing as truckers jostled one another to get into Iran ahead of each other.
Groups of dirty and hungry children without parents wandered beside
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