“But that’s a lie,” Nouri shot back. “I never worked with you or for you.”
“Really?” David asked. “Were you not my main contact within the Mahdi’s inner circle? Didn’t you and I speak on a regular basis? Didn’t I provide you with the satellite phones the Mahdi and his war council are using now? And aren’t those all CIA phones? And didn’t you literally hand those phones to the Mahdi?”
“The Mahdi will never believe it,” Nouri insisted. “He will never believe I betrayed him — and certainly not to a man like you.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Javad,” David said, pulling out his own satphone, dialing a dedicated line back at Langley, entering his code number, and then — putting the call on speakerphone — playing for Nouri a phone call from just a few days earlier.
“Reza?”
“Yes, this is he.”
“This is Javad Nouri. I just got back to Tehran and got your message.”
“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. 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. 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?”
“Of course. That would be a great honor; thank you.”
“Wonderful. 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. Abdol Esfahani explained everything. I’ll survive.”
“Good. 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.”
“I have done nothing wrong,” Nouri insisted, his voice more defiant than ever.
“Is that how it’s going to look?” David asked.
The question hung in the air, but David wasn’t certain it was working.
“Why would the CIA come and kidnap me from my hospital room and then leave me for dead in this safe house if I really worked for them?” Nouri finally said. “It isn’t logical, and the Mahdi won’t buy it.”
Now it was David whose body stiffened. Nouri had a point. Why, indeed?
The Ayatollah took three bodyguards with him and headed for the roof. When he got there, sure enough, he found the Twelfth Imam on his knees, bowing toward Mecca, and evidently in no mood to be trifled with. He also found the sun beginning to sink in the west and heavy storm clouds rolling in over the city. Several strikes of lightning flashed in the distance, but as of yet he could hear no thunder. What struck him most, as it had struck Darazi earlier, was the stench of death and the magnitude of the destruction of the airfield all around them and the Mahdi’s seeming imperviousness to it all. Was that faith, Hosseini wondered, or foolishness?
“Hamid Hosseini, what a surprise,” said the Mahdi.
The Ayatollah was immediately caught off guard. The Mahdi’s back was to him, and Hosseini hadn’t announced himself or made any sound.
“Here to coax me down off the ledge, are you, Hamid?” the Mahdi sneered.
How did he know? Hosseini wondered. Could this man read his mind?
“Well, my Lord, I… uh…”
“Save your breath, and don’t waste my time,” the Mahdi replied. “Do you think I am like all of you? Do you think I am a mere mortal? How do you think I knew it was you?”
“I… I don’t—”
“Go ahead, Hamid,” the Mahdi said, his back still toward the Ayatollah. “Take a pistol from one of your three bodyguards and shoot me in the back.”
Hosseini was aghast. “Never, my Lord, I would never—”
“It’s all right; go ahead,” the Mahdi pressed. “Then you’ll see if I’m a mortal or truly from above.”
Hosseini didn’t know what to say. He certainly couldn’t bring himself to even contemplate testing the Mahdi’s ability to withstand a gunshot from point-blank range.
“Are you a coward, Hamid?” the Mahdi asked.
“No, my Lord…. I–I’m your servant,” he replied and dropped to his knees in worship.
“You are a coward,” the Mahdi said, his voice dripping with disgust. “Your last truly courageous act was shooting your wife when she defied you for sending your sons off to be martyrs in the Great War with Iraq. Everything else has been easy for you. It has all been given to you, by Allah, to be sure, but it has made you a weak, sniveling little man. But that is why I have come, Hamid: to give the Muslim people what they want — true Islamic leadership — and to give the world what they need — a Caliphate governed from above, not from below.”
Hosseini continued to bow toward Mecca, his forehead pressed to the ground, not sure what to say or do at the moment.
“You have come to bring me dark news,” the Mahdi said after a brief pause. “In the last few hours, the battle has intensified dramatically. I feel it, and that is why I am on my knees in prayer. You should give yourself to prayer as well, Hamid, lest temptation overtake you and you succumb to the forces of evil.”
“Yes, my Lord,” Hosseini replied. “I am ready to commit myself to a night of prayer — indeed, to a new Ramadan of prayer and fasting, beginning this very night, if this will please you. But first I must tell you the disturbing news.”
The Mahdi said nothing. Instead, he rose from his knees and wrapped his black robe around him tightly.
“What is your news?” he asked.
Hosseini didn’t dare look up. But he did allow this one fleeting thought to cross the transom of his mind. If the Mahdi was omniscient, wouldn’t he already know the news? Maybe he couldn’t read minds, Hosseini thought, unsure if that was more reassuring or less so.
“Your Excellency, please know how it pains my heart to bring you this news, but I’m afraid it falls upon me to convey to you that your dear friend and trusted advisor, Javad Nouri, has been captured by forces of the enemy,” Hosseini said, forehead still pressed to the ground. “Details are sketchy. Commander Asgari does not yet know who is responsible, but I am concerned that whether it’s the Israelis or the Americans, if they truly have Javad, then they may now know — or soon know — this very location. I believe you are in grave danger, my Lord. So yes, it is my recommendation that you allow us to move you off this roof and get you to the new operations center, the one in the basement of the Imam Khomeini Mosque downtown.”
“No,” said the Mahdi. “I’m not going to the mosque. I am heading to Kabul to meet Iskander Farooq, and I leave in ten minutes.”
David and his team were startled by the knock at the motel door. Abruptly halting the interrogation, David put the gag back in Nouri’s mouth and told the man in no uncertain terms not to make a sound. “I’m not finished with you yet,” he whispered as he readied the Sig Sauer and watched Torres cautiously move to the door, check the peephole, and then give the all-clear.