Eva asked if he needed her to read the locations of the warheads at the time.
“No, skip that part. Does he say anything else?”
“A little bit, yes. Here it is.”
CALLER: Please, I’m imploring you — don’t kill me like you killed Dr. Saddaji and like you’ve killed Dr. Khan. I don’t want to end up like the others. That’s not what I signed up for. I’m trying to help my country and help you. I’ve done everything that you have asked. I have risked my life and that of my family. Now I’m begging you to show mercy to us.
RECEIVER: Calm down, Mordecai. Relax. Take a deep breath. We’re not going to kill you. Just the opposite. We told you if you helped us we would spare your life and your family’s, and we will keep our word.
CALLER: Then what about Saddaji and Khan?
RECEIVER: I cannot give specifics. But I can tell you this: both of those men were working to destroy us. You, on the other hand, offered to help us. We told you if you worked against us that your life could be measured in days, not years. But you have helped us, and we have helped you. Now, I need you to call again in one hour and give us an update on the locations.
CALLER: No. I have done all that I can. I can guarantee you the warheads are where I say they are as I speak. But I can make no guarantees where they will be even a few hours from now. Events are moving rapidly here. I fear I will soon be exposed. This will be my last communiqué. I have done all that I promised, but I cannot do more.
Eva paused.
“And then?” David asked.
“That’s it,” Eva said. “The call ends. The guy sounds terrified.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
“Absolutely.”
“The question is, who is this guy, and is he still alive?”
“I just listened to your call with Dr. Birjandi,” Eva said. “Didn’t he say he was at Al-Mazzah with an Iranian scientist who is going to transfer to the military base where the second warhead was moved?”
“That’s right; he did,” David said. “What was his name?”
Eva rechecked the transcript. “Zandi.”
“That has to be Jalal Zandi,” David said. “He and Tariq Khan were deputies to Dr. Saddaji before the Mossad took out Saddaji in the car bombing a few weeks ago.”
“Do you think Zandi is Mordecai?”
“I don’t know,” David confessed. “It’s a good question.”
“Who else could it be?” Eva asked.
“I’m sure there are several candidates.”
“But think about it,” Eva pressed. “With Saddaji, Najjar Malik, and Khan out of the picture, Zandi’s got to be the most senior nuclear scientist the Iranians have.”
“That doesn’t prove Zandi is Mordecai,” David pushed back. “Dr. Saddaji wasn’t a double agent. Neither were Najjar or Tariq. In fact, Najjar only had a change of heart when he had a vision of Christ. Do you think Zandi had a vision too?”
“I don’t think you need a vision of Jesus to become a double agent against the Iranians.”
“But these men were chosen for their supreme loyalty to the regime and to the Mahdi,” David noted. “No, I think it’s unlikely Zandi is the mole. It’s probably someone a bit lower on the food chain.”
“Why else would Zandi be with Jazini working on the final two bombs?”
“Precisely because he’s most trusted.”
“But wouldn’t the most trusted people be the only ones with access to the precise locations of the warheads?” Eva asked. “How many people do you think knew the exact locations of each and every warhead on that Thursday? I’d bet the Mahdi himself didn’t know. I’m telling you — it has to be Zandi.”
Eva made a compelling case, but David remained skeptical. Two other questions puzzled him at the moment. How had the Mossad found Mordecai, whoever he was? And how had they recruited him?
“Dr. Birjandi, you must come with me right away.”
The voice was that of Abdol Esfahani. It was stern and dark, and Birjandi’s stomach tightened. Esfahani was in charge of all the on-site communications for Jazini, the Mahdi, and the rest of the Iranian team. Was he also assisting the Revolutionary Guards with counterintelligence? Had he intercepted Birjandi’s call to David? Birjandi knew the risks and was prepared to suffer the consequences, but he was praying that at the very least he would have the opportunity to speak the Word of God directly to the Twelfth Imam before they executed him.
Esfahani took Birjandi by the arm and began moving him swiftly down a long corridor. In the wake of the news of Darazi’s assassination, the entire dynamic on the base had changed. The tenor of every conversation was anxious and edgy now in a way that had not been the case only minutes earlier. Birjandi, constrained by the need for his cane, could barely keep up with Esfahani’s pace, but eventually, after numerous twists and turns, various corridors, elevators, and stairs, they entered a room that Birjandi sensed immediately was a power center. He had no idea how many people were in the room or who they were, but he wondered if the Mahdi had arrived early, and if so, whether that meant the launch against Israel was being sped up, as was his own death sentence.
“Alireza, it is good to see a friend amid such sorrow.”
To Birjandi’s surprise, it was an old and very familiar voice, that of the Grand Ayatollah of Iran, Hamid Hosseini.
“Hamid, is that you?” Birjandi replied, using the Supreme Leader’s first name — a rare occurrence since Hosseini had been elevated by the Assembly of Experts to such a lofty position.
“It is, indeed,” Hosseini replied, coming across the room, embracing Birjandi, and giving him a Persian kiss on each cheek.
“This is a surprise,” said Birjandi. “I understood I was summoned by Imam al-Mahdi, but I had no idea that you would be here as well.”
“Forgive me for the secrecy, but obviously we cannot be too careful about broadcasting our movements these days, even to friends.”
“Obviously.”
“You must be horrified by this news about our friend Ahmed,” Hosseini said.
“It is a very dark day,” Birjandi said, choosing his words ever so carefully.
“But not for long,” said Hosseini. “The Zionists will pay dearly for stooping so low. May Allah rain fire from heaven on these descendants of apes and pigs before the sun goes down.”
“Surely divine judgment is coming,” Birjandi replied.
“Indeed,” the Ayatollah agreed. “I trust you have met Dr. Zandi and are familiar with all he is doing to prepare these two warheads for delivery.”
“He and his entire team have been in my prayers all night.”
“Mine as well. In fact, I have asked him to take a five-minute break to come up and sit with us and have some Turkish coffee and allow us to pray for him.”
“An excellent idea, Hamid, though with your permission I will forgo the coffee, as I am fasting today.”
“Of course,” Hosseini said. “You have always been the pious one among us, Alireza. Forgive me for not having thought of that myself. I will fast today as well.”
“Please, Hamid,” Birjandi replied, “do not let my actions influence you. I am not a pious man. I am a sinner in desperate need of God’s forgiveness. Today is no day for me to be proud, but humble. Indeed, I seek only to be a humble servant, not a leader of men and certainly not of you. I would never presume such a role.”
“All the more reason I should listen to you and heed your example,” Hosseini responded.
Just then a military aide announced the arrival of Dr. Jalal Zandi. The Ayatollah helped Birjandi into a large, comfortable, overstuffed chair that Birjandi sensed was in the middle of the large hall. Then Hosseini greeted Zandi and offered him coffee and baklava. Zandi begged the Ayatollah’s indulgence and said he was fasting and would prefer not to drink, if this was acceptable to the Supreme Leader.