“So do I,” David said. “So you’re really safe? You’re okay? You have everything you need?”
“The Lord is my Shepherd, David. I shall not want.”
“I’m so glad. I’ve been trying to reach you for days. Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
Birjandi apologized for not answering, though he didn’t really offer an explanation. Rather, he asked about David and how he was doing.
“I’m safe,” David replied. “I’m well. How does the song go? ‘I get by with a little help from my friends.’”
Birjandi didn’t say a word, and David figured he probably wasn’t much of a Beatles fan anyway.
“Anyway, listen,” he continued, “there’s so much I want to talk to you about. I have a lot of questions. But there’s a specific reason I’ve been trying so hard to get ahold of you, Dr. Birjandi. Can I start with that?”
“Yes, certainly, my son. Whatever you need.”
“Dr. Birjandi, we have a serious problem, and we need your help.”
“Yes, I’ve heard.”
“Really? What do you know?”
“That the Iranians have hit the Dimona reactor, and that the prime minister is considering nuclear retaliatory strikes.”
David’s heart raced. “I thought you had no electricity.”
“I don’t,” Birjandi said.
“Then you don’t have radio or television?”
“No.”
“Did you hear this from Hosseini or Darazi? What else did they say?”
“No, no,” Birjandi said. “I haven’t spoken to either of them. Nor do I want to. One of the young men here has a mobile phone that works. He’s getting Twitter messages from the West. From Najjar Malik, actually. That’s how we heard. But from your reaction, apparently it’s true.”
“Dimona was hit, yes.”
“And are the Israelis going to fire nuclear weapons at us?”
“I don’t know, Dr. Birjandi. I really don’t.”
“But it’s possible.”
“Yes, I’m afraid it is.”
“Just possible? Or probable?”
David hesitated. He didn’t want to worry his friend or the man’s students. But Birjandi had always shot straight with him. David figured the man deserved the same. “Honestly, I think it depends in large part on how much damage was done to the reactor at Dimona. If the reactor was severely damaged and a radioactive cloud begins to spread across the State of Israel, that would put thousands of lives at risk, maybe millions. There are a lot of variables. But if I were a betting man…”
David paused, but Birjandi got it.
“It’s that bad?” the old man asked.
“Yeah, it is.”
“If the Israelis fired nuclear missiles, they would certainly hit Tehran, right?”
“That I don’t know.”
“Bushehr?”
“Probably.”
“Natanz?”
“Probably.”
“Qom?”
“Maybe.”
“Hamadan?”
“Almost certainly,” David conceded.
There was a long silence at the other end of the line. Finally David had to shift gears. “Listen, Dr. Birjandi, that’s not all. There’s another problem too. And it’s on this that I really need your help.”
“Yes, of course. What is it? How can I help?”
Murray was on the line with the CIA station chief in Islamabad when his office intercom buzzed three times. That was his secretary’s signal that he had an important incoming call.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Murray, I’m sorry to bother you, but I thought you’d want to know Miss Harper has just called. She’s on line three. What do you want me to tell her?”
“Marseille Harper?” Murray asked, incredulous.
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s 3 a.m. Is she crazy?”
“Her best friend is in Israel and is staying at the hotel in Tiberias that collapsed. Her friend’s parents can’t get through to the embassy or the State Department to get any confirmation on whether their daughter and son-in-law are alive or dead. She said she took a chance that you were not only up but in the office, and she wondered if you could take a moment and talk to her.”
“No, I can’t,” Murray said. “I’m on the line with… I’m in the middle of… If I take this call now, I… Forget it. Never mind. Tell her I can’t come to the phone. But get all the information you need on her friends, get a number where you can call her back, and then get on the horn with our station chief in Tel Aviv and see what they know.”
David explained the situation with the two missing Iranian warheads and the fear in Washington that one could be headed toward Israel and the other toward the U.S. homeland. He didn’t say how the CIA had learned of the warheads, but he did press Birjandi for intel.
“I haven’t heard anything about them.”
“Then I need you to call the Ayatollah.”
“What on earth for?”
“I need you to ask Hosseini for a meeting with the Twelfth Imam.”
“Absolutely not,” said the old man. “That’s out of the question.”
“Dr. Birjandi, look, I know it’s a lot to ask. But our only hope of finding those warheads is finding the Mahdi. He’s the only person we can be sure of who knows precisely where the warheads are. Maybe Hosseini knows, and maybe he doesn’t. Maybe Darazi knows; maybe not. But we can be certain the Mahdi knows where they are and is personally directing the strategy to use them against us and Israel. We need to find him, Dr. Birjandi. We need to know what he’s thinking, what he’s saying, what he’s doing. And right now you’re the only person who can reach out to him, ask for a meeting, and get one. The Mahdi has already indicated he wants to meet with you. You’ve been stalling. But you need to say yes, and you need to do it right now.”
“My friend, you are a good young man, and you are doing good work,” Birjandi replied, “but you’re asking something I cannot deliver.”
“With all due respect, my friend, you can; you’re just choosing not to,” David pushed back. “But you’re perfect for this. They love you. They trust you. They believe you’re one of them. You can find out where the warheads are and what cities they’ll be used to attack, and you can call me on your satellite phone once you find out.”
“No; you’re not listening — that is out of the question.”
“But why?” David pressed. “Don’t you see how high the stakes are?”
“Of course I do,” Birjandi replied. “But I am not to see the Twelfth Imam under any circumstances. Don’t you understand?”
“No, honestly, I don’t. You’re the perfect mole. You’ve been summoned into the inner sanctum. And now you can say yes. You’re the answer to a lot of prayers, Dr. Birjandi. God has raised you up and prepared you for this very moment. Don’t you see?”
Birjandi’s exasperation was becoming evident in his voice. “Please listen carefully. Let me say it as clearly as I can. The Twelfth Imam claims to be the messiah, the Lord of the Age, right?”
“Right.”
“But he’s not the true Messiah, is he?”
“No.”
“So that makes him a false messiah, true?”
“True.”
“Okay, so we’re agreed. The Twelfth Imam is not just a false prophet. He’s not simply a false teacher. He is a false messiah. He may be possessed by Satan himself. His closest lieutenants — Ayatollah Hosseini and President Darazi — are evil men as well, deeply influenced by satanic powers. I don’t think they have always been, but I suspect they are now. And what do the Holy Scriptures tell us? In Matthew 24, the Lord Jesus made it very clear. ‘If anyone says to you, “Behold, here is the Messiah,” or “There He is,” do not believe him. For false messiahs and false prophets will arise and will show great signs and wonders, so as to mislead, if possible, even the elect. Behold, I have told you in advance. So 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.’ Now you may not understand any of this because you refuse to take the lost condition of your soul seriously. But I gave my life to the Lord Jesus because he gave his life for me. And if he tells me not to go out to meet with false messiahs, then I am going to obey him — no matter how much it costs me or how much it displeases you.”