“Javad, I know you can hear me, so I’m going to make this very simple,” David began. “I’m going to ask you questions. You’re going to give me answers — truthful answers. Got that?”
Nouri didn’t move, didn’t nod, didn’t say a word, so David pressed the pistol harder against his temple. Nouri nodded ever so slightly.
“You recognize my voice, don’t you, Javad?” David continued.
Nouri nodded again.
“That’s right, Javad. My name is Reza Tabrizi, and I work for the Central Intelligence Agency.”
27
“The Twelfth Imam has cut a deal with the Pakistanis,” Eva told Murray.
“What kind of deal?” Murray asked.
“Tom, he’s going to get full operational control of 170-plus nuclear missiles by midnight on Monday.”
Murray said nothing for a moment. Then, “He’ll be unstoppable. Are you sure it’s all finalized?”
“As you can see from the transcripts I sent you, everything’s done but the handshake,” Eva said. “It looks like the Iranian ambassador in Islamabad has been the middleman. He’s been doing most of the negotiating, and I’m guessing he’s been communicating with the Mahdi and with General Jazini mostly by secure e-mail. So the calls — at least the ones I’ve seen so far — don’t give chapter and verse. But one thing is clear: the Paks are going to publicly announce they are joining the Caliphate in the next twenty-four hours. The Mahdi and his team are trying to arrange a face-to-face meeting with Iskander Farooq. The logistics, as you can imagine, are challenging, to say the least. The Mahdi doesn’t have the time or interest to go to Islamabad, and he doesn’t have a lot of working airports left from which to depart, either. By the same token, it’s really not feasible for Farooq to get to Tehran. But Farooq won’t hand over the launch codes to the Pak nuclear missiles unless he gets an in-person meeting.”
“So it’s not entirely a done deal,” Murray said.
“Seems like a formality at this point. Farooq is a Sunni. He rules a predominantly Sunni country. Yet he’s about to give the Twelfth Imam the keys to the kingdom.”
“But he hasn’t yet, right?” Murray pressed.
“Not technically, but it’s just a matter of hours,” Eva said.
“Don’t we have intel that the Mahdi was supposed to meet with Farooq in Dubai last Thursday?”
“We did, and we know that the Mahdi even sent his aide…”
“Javad Nouri?”
“Right, right — Nouri — to Dubai for a quick trip to scout out a location.”
“It was only a few hours, right?”
“I think so, but then again, I’m just catching up on that by reading the intercepts,” Eva said. “You’ll recall I was locked up at the time.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but listen — my point is, the meeting between the Mahdi and Farooq was scrubbed, right?”
“Yes. The war started Thursday, and everything changed,” Eva confirmed. “Why? What are you saying?”
“I don’t know,” said Murray. “I’m just thinking.”
“What are you going to do, suggest the president order U.S. special forces invade Pakistan and secure every missile?” Eva asked, incredulous. “For crying out loud, Tom, the man didn’t even want to hit Iran.”
“Careful, Eva,” Murray cautioned. “That’s the president of the United States — your commander in chief — you’re talking about.”
“I’m just saying that—”
“I know what you’re saying,” Murray said, cutting her off. “And you might be right. But I’m saying this deal could have been done Thursday, and it wasn’t. So it’s not done until it’s done. But don’t you worry about that. You just keep translating. Let me worry about whether we can stop this or not. You’re doing good work, Eva. Thank you. Really. Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s more.”
Nouri’s entire body stiffened involuntarily as if David had just nailed him with a high-voltage cattle prod. But Torres’s eyes widened as well. Even Fox turned his head away from the window as if to see what in the world David was doing.
Admitting to being a spy for the CIA on enemy soil during a hot war in the enemy’s capital while interrogating a top advisor to the enemy himself was an unconventional strategy, to say the least. They certainly didn’t teach it in the Agency training program at the Farm, nor had David ever seen or heard of Murray or Zalinsky using it. If Eva were here, David knew she’d go ballistic. But this was the course he’d chosen, and he was determined to see it through.
“That’s right, Javad. Every single phone I gave you, every single phone you gave the Mahdi and his army, each and every one of them was supplied by the American government, by the CIA and the NSA, and all of them are being carefully monitored.”
David paused for a moment to let his words sink in and let Javad’s mind — foggy though it was — contemplate the full import of what he had just heard. He noticed Torres nervously tapping his fingers on his weapon and Fox forcing himself to look away and keep his eyes peeled out the window.
“The CIA is listening to every phone conversation the Mahdi is having, Javad. We’re listening to every call the Ayatollah is having. We’re listening to every call President Darazi is having, and all the rest of them,” David continued. “But we also know there are things you’re saying to each other that you’re not saying on the phone. So here’s the deal. You’re going to talk to me. You’re going to answer my questions, and as a reward I’m not only going to let you live, I’m going to get you out of this country, get you to a safe place where the Mahdi can’t torture you once he learns that you work for me.”
Nouri’s body language made it clear David had his full attention now.
“It’s a simple proposition, Javad. Cooperate, and live. Don’t cooperate, and die. But let’s be clear: just between you and me, I’m not going to put a bullet through your temple. That would be the easy way out for you. If you don’t help me, I’m going to make certain the Mahdi kills you, but only after he makes you suffer in ways that are too terrible for me to even want to think about.”
David pulled the Sig Sauer away from Nouri’s head and pressed it into the top of his knee.
“But I’ll tell you one thing: if you don’t talk, I am going to blow your kneecap off. Now, I’ve never experienced that level of pain myself, but I’ve seen people go through it. You might be interested to know that I shot Tariq Khan in the knee just three days ago. He didn’t die, but he sure wanted to. The crazy thing is, Javad, the human body can actually endure an enormous amount of suffering. I’m not sure how. I’m not a doctor. I’m not a mullah. I’m not Allah. All I know is I’ve seen people suffer for days in wrenching, mind-blowing amounts of pain, begging for someone — anyone — to kill them once and for all and put them out of their misery. Khan did. But even blowing your kneecap off would actually be the least of your troubles. Because I’m going to make you the same deal I made Khan. He made the right choice — he talked. And you’d better do the same. Because if you don’t talk, after I shoot you, my team and I are going to leave you in this room for the Mahdi and his men to find you. They’ll find you right here in this CIA safe house. I know you can’t see it right now. But I’m assuming you can imagine how it looks. Computers and satellite phones and maps and the like. And on your laptop, which will be open when the secret police arrive, there are all kinds of interesting files. Transcripts of the Mahdi’s phone calls. Transcripts of Hosseni’s calls and Darazi’s. Files with code names for Najjar Malik and for Khan. Detailed plans to assassinate Dr. Saddaji in Hamadan. Lists of dead drops. Locations of other safe houses. Bank account numbers in Switzerland with millions of American dollars parked in your name. And the crazy thing is, it won’t be fake. It’s all real. Your fingerprints will be all over this operation. You know how angry the Mahdi is that this war isn’t going like he’d hoped, like he’d planned, like he’d predicted? Imagine how he’ll feel when he learns that you’ve been selling him out — his own personal Judas, betraying him with a kiss.”