“Okay, get the PM on the line,” the defense minister finally said. “If he’s going to go, he’s got to go now.”
“Silence!” the Mahdi shouted. “Silence. Allah is the one true God, and you have no need to fear. Allah can see the traitors in our midst, and he will bring them to judgment. This is war, gentlemen. Our enemies are everywhere. Many are deceived. Few are chosen to know and follow the path to Allah. But you are. You know the truth. You know that Islam is the answer, jihad is the way, Muhammad is our prophet, and I am your savior. Stay focused. Do not let the enemy distract you. Not now. Not when we are so close to victory. You must pray for strength, for the courage to submit to the will of Allah, no matter what the cost. Come, I will lead you into his presence, and together we will dedicate these missiles to achieving Allah’s will.”
Several guards pulled Esfahani off Birjandi’s body. Esfahani was covered in blood. He was shaking with rage. He could barely hear what the Mahdi was saying. But he followed suit as the others got down on their knees, faced Mecca, and prayed for victory in the War of Annihilation.
When they were finished, the Mahdi stepped down. General Jazini then directed his men to push the body of Dr. Birjandi next to General Hamdi, directly under the nozzle of the nuclear-armed Scud. The general desperately protested that he was not the traitor in their midst, that Birjandi was, but neither Jazini nor the others would listen. Then Jazini directed everyone to the rear of the facility, behind the blast shields, and into steel and concrete bunkers, where they would be able to watch the launch of all six missiles through specially treated and reinforced glass, as well as on multiple video monitors and radar tracking displays.
Just as everyone began to follow Jazini and the Mahdi, however, Dr. Zandi walked over to General Hamdi and called out to the others.
“These men were not traitors!” he shouted. “I am the mole!”
Once again, Esfahani and the others were stunned.
General Jazini drew his pistol again. A dozen Revolutionary Guards aimed their AK-47s at the Iranian scientist.
“Stop it, Dr. Zandi,” Jazini ordered. “Be silent and step away from that missile.”
“I will not be silent!” Zandi shouted, his trembling voice echoing throughout the huge facility. “I did not sign up to build nuclear weapons. That’s not why I joined the Atomic Energy Organization of Iran. Dr. Saddaji recruited me to help him build peaceful nuclear reactors, to safeguard Iran’s energy security. But he lied to me. He betrayed me. And now it will cost him.”
Esfahani noticed two guards coming to his side, presumably to keep him from taking any rash actions. The last thing they needed was a shoot-out inside a nuclear missile facility. He tried to stay calm, but his mind was reeling. What was Zandi saying? Had he really turned against the Mahdi as well? What was happening? And why now?
“You will be silent, or you will be possessed by a legion of demons,” the Mahdi bellowed, striding forward in his black robes and black turban to confront this new enemy of the Caliphate.
“I warn you,” Zandi shouted. “I warn you not to fire this missile.”
“Or what?” Jazini demanded to know.
“Or it will detonate above your heads, just seconds after liftoff.”
“He’s bluffing,” said the Ayatollah.
“I am not bluffing,” Zandi shot back. “How do you think the Israelis found Dr. Saddaji? I gave him to them. Why do you think the Israelis knew precisely where to strike last Thursday? Why do you think your nuclear program keeps failing? Because I’m opposed to it. I hate it. I hate it with every fiber of my being. This warhead will never destroy the Zionists. I programmed it to detonate two seconds after liftoff. I would have done the same with the warhead you sent to Dayr az-Zawr. If you launch this missile, you will destroy only yourselves. Not that it really matters. I have no doubt the Israelis are launching a massive air strike against Syria, and especially against this base, even as we speak.”
“He’s a liar!” Jazini shouted. “He speaks lies from his father, the devil. Shall I behead him right now, my Lord?”
“No,” said the Mahdi. “I don’t think he is lying about being a Zionist mole. I think he is telling the truth. Which means he is stalling for time. I think the Zionists are about to hit us. But Dr. Zandi here is trying to prevent us from using our trump card — trying, but failing. Tie him up, and chain him to the nozzle of Missile Four, along with Hamdi the betrayer. Let them both burn — now and forever.”
“Do it!” Naphtali ordered in an emergency conference call with the defense minister, Mossad chief, and IDF chief of staff. “Do it now. Launch the attack. And may the God of our fathers have mercy on us all.”
“Yes, sir,” Shimon said. “I am ordering our fighter jets into the air as we speak.”
“And sound the rocket alarms all over Israel,” Naphtali also ordered. “A firestorm is coming, and it cannot be stopped.”
Fox was open to what David was sharing. Though he had been raised in northern California by two atheist parents, he said he’d always been curious about God and had read lots of books about religion over the years. He’d never been to a church except for a few weddings and funerals, but David was struck by his sincere heart. He was asking questions. He was trying to understand why Christ had to die on the cross and what it would mean in a practical way for him to “pick up his cross” and truly follow Jesus.
Crenshaw, on the other hand, not only didn’t want to hear what David had to say, he was offended by the notion that he needed a savior. He insisted that they stay focused on their mission.
“You’re not my priest,” Crenshaw snapped. “Quit trying to be one.”
“Nick, man, I’m not trying to be a pastor or priest,” David replied. “I never went to a church either. My family isn’t religious. I’m just saying, if we don’t make it, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt where I’m going to be the moment I die. Do you?”
At Jazini’s order, everyone raced into the fortified bunkers at the rear of the facility, far from the missiles and well out of danger. At the Mahdi’s order, hundreds of missiles began to lift off all over Iran and Syria, screaming for Israel, all of them designed to create a blizzard of inbounds that would overwhelm the Israelis’ ability to track them and shoot them all down.
All at once, the massive roof started retracting above them, and the countdown for these six missiles began.
“T minus ten… nine… eight…”
Esfahani held his breath as the moment of reckoning drew near.
David and his team were twisting and turning through mountain passes. They were steadily descending to the plains where the Syrian capital was nestled in the shadow of the Golan Heights. David slowed slightly to come around a particularly sharp curve. Then, as he cleared the rocky ridges and approached a straightaway along the top of a large hill, he accelerated again and passed a bus and an oil tanker, along with a large truck carrying crates of fruit.
“… seven… six… five…”