The Tehran Initiative (37 page)

There was a hum of agreement around the table.

“Mr. President, this is Roger again in Amman.”

“Yes, Roger.”

“Sir, no one appreciates your commitment to peace more than me. But every indicator we have is that the Mahdi is ready to launch a nuclear strike on Israel at any moment. He just told Defense Minister Faridzadeh to ‘make sure everything is ready.’ None of my senior staff believe the Mahdi is open to negotiations. We believe he is buying time to finalize his preparations for war.”

“So what are you saying, Roger?”

“Mr. President, I’m saying that any window for diplomacy has closed. I think we need to seriously consider taking military action against the Iranian nuclear sites and naval vessels we know of before the Mahdi can use those warheads and before the Israelis can strike.”

The president turned to the SecDef. “You have your plan ready, right?”

“Yes, sir, Op Plan 106,” the SecDef replied. “We’ve secretly positioned additional air assets in Greece and Cyprus, and we have the USS
Enterprise
and the bulk of the Sixth Fleet in the eastern Med. Meanwhile, we have the USS
Dwight D. Eisenhower
battle group patrolling the Gulf. Our stealth bombers are on alert at Whiteman in Missouri. The moment we get confirmed coordinates on those eight warheads, we can launch cruise missiles within two hours and execute the entire plan in less than six.”

“Good. We need to keep all options on the table,” the president said. “So your point is noted, Roger. That said, I couldn’t disagree with you more. I don’t think another US-led war in the Middle East is going to solve anything. I firmly believe diplomacy is the way forward, in close consultation with the UN and our NATO allies. So, Roger, I’d like you to come home immediately after your breakfast meeting with the king. State will take over from here. I’m sending the secretary to Islamabad tonight instead of you. I want you to focus exclusively on finding those warheads and keeping us apprised of any Israeli and Iranian moves toward war.”

Allen had just been benched. He looked deflated, but he knew his place. “Yes, sir, Mr. President. Just a quick point of clarification on that.”

“What?”

“Would you like the secretary to brief Prime Minister Naphtali on our latest intelligence on the Iranian nuclear threat, or should I proceed with that?”

“I will call the prime minister myself in the morning,” the president said.

“But, sir, respectfully, we are assessing an imminent attack,” the CIA director noted. “The Israelis need to know immediately.”

“I’ll call them in the morning, once you have confirmed whether there are any warheads actually on those Iranian missile boats,” the president said. “I don’t want to traffic in rumors, and I certainly don’t want to give the Israelis an excuse to launch a first strike. That is all, gentlemen.”

And with that, Jackson stood and walked out of the Sit Room.

43

En Route to Qom, Iran

David had been on the road for more than an hour.

His eyelids were getting heavy, and the Iranian folk music he was listening to on the radio to pass the time wasn’t helping. But he was making progress. He had just fueled up in the village of Kalle Dasht and was now rapidly approaching the town of Saveh and the junction with Route 5. There, he would turn south until he reached the interchange at Garangan, where he would take Route 56 directly into Qom. At this rate, he expected to reach the hotel by around 2 a.m. and be in bed no later than 2:30.

His mobile phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID but didn’t recognize the number. Hoping it was Zalinsky or Eva with some good news, he took the call anyway.

“Reza?”

“Yes, this is he.”

“This is Javad Nouri. I just got back to Tehran and got your message.”

A surge of adrenaline instantly woke David up. “Hey, good to hear from you.”

“I hope it’s not too late to call you, but whatever you’ve got, we could use.”

“It’s no problem,” David replied. “Thanks for getting back to me. I expect to have a hundred of what we were discussing by late in the afternoon tomorrow—er, I guess today. They’re being shipped to me in Qom. That’s where I’m heading now to meet some of my tech team later this morning at some switching station that’s having a problem. Are you guys going to be in Qom by any chance?”

“No, we’re not,” Javad said. “But I have a better idea. Could you bring them directly to us? Our mutual friend has heard many good things about you and would like to meet you in person. Would that be acceptable?”

David was stunned. The only mutual friend they could possibly have was the Twelfth Imam. Was he really being invited to meet with him in person?

“Of course. That would be a great honor; thank you,” David replied.

“Wonderful,” Javad said. “Our friend is deeply grateful for your help, and he personally asked me to apologize for the vetting process you were subjected to. He hopes you understand that we cannot be too careful at this stage.”

“I understand,” David said, trying not to sound as ecstatic as he felt. “Abdol Esfahani explained everything. I’ll survive.”

“Good,” Javad said. “Be in Tehran tonight at eight o’clock at the restaurant where we met before. Come by cab. Don’t bring anyone or anything else with you, just the gifts. I’ll have someone meet you there and bring you to us. Okay?”

“Yes, of course. I’m looking forward to it.”

“So are we. I’ve got to go now. Good-bye.”

Thrilled, David hung up the phone. He had to call this in to Langley. But just as he was about to, he suddenly remembered Dr. Birjandi’s stern warning that the Twelfth Imam was a dangerous false messiah. Birjandi believed the Mahdi was possessed by Satan and was “certainly guided by demonic forces” to deceive the unsuspecting. He had even gone so far as to quote some End Times prophecy from the Bible, saying,
“‘If anyone says to you, “Behold, here is the Messiah,” or “There He is,” do not believe him.’ And ‘if they say to you, “Behold, He is in the wilderness,” do not go out, or, “Behold, He is in the inner rooms,” do not believe them. For just as the lightning comes from the east and flashes even to the west, so will the coming of the Son of Man be.’”

A chill ran through David’s body as a deep sense of foreboding came over him. No one knew more about the Twelfth Imam than Dr. Alireza Birjandi, and Birjandi had been adamant that he would not meet with the Mahdi under any circumstances, fearful that even a man of his wisdom and experience could be drawn to the Mahdi and lose his reasoning. But this was an intelligence operative’s dream come true—and in many ways it was the very reason he had been sent to Iran.

* * *

Arlington, Virginia

Marseille finally got back to her hotel room in Crystal City.

She showered and changed and ordered room service for an early dinner, then checked the latest headlines from Iran. The
New York Times
and
Washington Post
websites were filled with the latest rumors of war, plus full coverage of the Mahdi’s speech in Tahrir Square and analysis of why Egypt had unexpectedly joined the Caliphate. The
Wall Street Journal
noted oil and gas prices were both up significantly again in overnight trading as the crisis in the Middle East worsened, while the Dow had plunged 11 percent in the last week and the NASDAQ was being hit even harder. The
Jerusalem Post
website covered CIA director Roger Allen’s visit to Jerusalem and Amman and Prime Minister Naphtali’s photo op with an American Patriot missile battery in the Jezreel Valley, noting the US was rushing additional Patriot batteries to both Israel and Jordan. One headline read, “Tens of Thousands Gather at Wailing Wall to Pray for Peace As Crisis with Iran Heats Up.” The more she read, the more worried she became for David and for Lexi and Chris. That reminded her to check her e-mail. One from Lexi caught her eye.

Dear Marseille,

Thanks so much for your very sweet note and for all your prayers! Chris and I so appreciate them. Keep them coming! I know the whole world thinks there’s going to be a war over here soon, but aren’t they always saying that? I mean, my parents have refused to go to Israel—and refused to take us kids—all of our lives because “it’s just not safe.” I can’t tell you how blessed I am to have married Chris.

His motto: Fear not.

So we’re trying not to read the papers, and we can’t understand most of what’s on the radio anyway. But we’ve been everywhere—all through Jerusalem and Bethlehem and Jericho, to the ruins of Caesarea, to a beautiful church on the top of Mount Carmel, to the Church of the Annunciation in Nazareth, to the McDonald’s just down the road from Armageddon. (I’m not kidding! I’ve attached a picture of Chris and me in front of it. It’s hilarious!) I even bought you some wine in Cana—a bottle of red and one of white!

I’m taking a bazillion pictures and writing furiously in my journal. I’ll post everything on my Facebook when I get a chance, but Chris and I are having too much fun to post photos just now!

We just arrived in Tiberias and are staying at an amazing hotel on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. You have to come here. YOU HAVE TO!

Tomorrow, we’re taking a boat ride on the Sea of Galilee—they call it the Kinneret here—and then going to the Mount of Beatitudes.

Anyway, the embassy is texting all Americans, encouraging us to leave the country immediately. But Chris and I don’t want to miss a single minute, and everything goes so much faster when there aren’t so many tourists here! So, Lord willing, we’re staying through Sunday and should get back on Monday.

Sorry for such a long message. Did you get a flight back to Portland yet, or are you still stuck in DC? Go see the monuments and the art galleries!

Love you lots.

See you soon!

Lexi

* * *

Langley, Virginia

Tom Murray knew he wasn’t going home that night.

He ordered a sandwich and soup from the commissary and sent his secretary downstairs to get it. Just then, his phone rang. It was the watch commander in the Global Operations Center.

“They’re leaving now?” Murray asked, instantly alert. “How many? . . . Do you have the coordinates? . . . Hold on, let me grab a pen. . . . Okay, go ahead. . . . Got it. Do you have a Predator anywhere close that can keep tracking them? . . . Do it now and keep me posted. We’ll get this to our man on the ground and let you know. Good work.”

* * *

En Route to Qom

David took Zalinsky’s call on the first ring.

Increasingly conflicted about the meeting with the Twelfth Imam, he had hesitated to call it in, but now he figured this was as good a time as any. Zalinsky, however, had his own news. “You need to turn around,” he ordered.

“Why?” David asked. “What are you talking about?”

Zalinsky explained the Mahdi’s intercepted call from Javad’s phone to Faridzadeh and the order to put final details in place. Then he explained that an NSA Keyhole satellite had just picked up a convoy leaving Hamadan, an 18-wheeler flanked by two SUVs.

“We need you to intercept the convoy and follow it.”

“Can’t you task a Predator to do that?”

“We don’t have one over Hamadan right now.”

Incredulous, David asked why not.

“The one we had there was having mechanical problems,” Zalinsky said. “I sent it back to Bahrain to be checked out. We’ve got another one going in, but it’s going to take a few hours to get there.”

David briefly explained his situation.

“Really, a meeting with the Mahdi?” Zalinsky said. “That’s huge.”

“I know,” David said. “So shouldn’t I stay on track for that?”

“When do you need to be back in Tehran?”

“By eight tonight.”

“Then you should have plenty of time. Find the convoy, follow it, and report back every half hour. That’s priority one right now. Then we’ll make sure you’re back to Tehran by eight.”

“Are you really sure it’s carrying warheads?” David asked.

“No, but the convoy left Facility 278 in the dead of night, and the fact that this is the first convoy to leave the facility at all since the nuclear test seems significant. There are several military bases along the main highway south, and we need to know for certain where they’re headed. Anyway, this is our best lead right now. Actually, this is our only lead. We need to see where it takes us.”

“Fine, but let’s say the convoy does have a warhead. What am I supposed to do about it? I’m unarmed and alone. Is there a special forces team nearby?”

“I’m sending in two paramilitary teams,” Zalinsky replied, “one to the safe house in Karaj and the other to the safe house in Esfah
ā
n. But they are HALO jumping into the country and won’t be there until lunchtime at best.”

David was startled. “I thought you already had teams on the ground. That’s what you told me.”

“We did. The White House had us recall them.”

“When?”

“After the president heard from the Mahdi.”

“But why?”

“All I can say is that the Agency is under enormous pressure not to do anything too provocative.”

David couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was furious and felt hung out to dry. He was risking his life inside Iran, and the administration didn’t want to do anything too provocative? What was wrong with them? Didn’t they see what they were facing? There were times he wished he worked for the Mossad.