“What did he say?” Shimon pressed.
Dayan set a portable digital sound recorder on the desk and pressed Play.
“One nuclear warhead is at Al-Mazzah Air Force Base in Damascus. Stop,” said the voice in flawless Farsi. “The other is being transported in a Red Crescent ambulance to the air base at Dayr az-Zawr. Stop. Both will be fired at Israel within hours. Stop. Urge immediate air strikes on—”
Then Shimon heard a computerized voice say, “Voice match — negative,” and the call was abruptly cut off. Dayan shut off the recorder.
“We’re running that voice against everything we have in our system,” Dayan explained. “But so far, we’ve got nothing.”
“It has to have been someone close to Mordecai,” Shimon said.
“Not necessarily,” Dayan said. “If Iranian intelligence has captured Mordecai, perhaps they were able to force him to talk. Perhaps they are trying to get us to strike the Syrians to provoke them into the war.”
“Or maybe the Iranians are already planning to launch a nuclear attack from Syrian soil.” Shimon let out a string of curses. “Your people should never have cut off the call,” he bellowed. “They should have engaged that guy, kept him talking, and learned everything they possibly could.”
“Fair enough,” Dayan said. “But the real question is whether anything he said was accurate.”
“And?”
“And nothing. I’ve put my best men on it. We’re turning over every leaf. We’re in the process of redeploying drones to Al-Mazzah and Dayr az-Zawr, but that’s going to take time, Levi. Most of our assets, as you know, are tied up over Iran, not over Syria.”
“What’s your best guess, Zvi?” Shimon pressed.
“If I had to guess — and I hate to guess; I want to know — but if I had to guess, under these circumstances, I’d say Mordecai has been compromised, so he’s found another ally. He’s using this ally to get us this information, and it’s legit. I can’t prove it. But Mordecai has always told us the truth.”
“This wasn’t Mordecai,” Shimon reminded his colleague.
“You asked for my best guess, Levi,” Dayan replied. “That’s it.”
Shimon lit a cigarette and paced the room. He cursed again and then said, “I think you’re right. We need to take this to the prime minister immediately.”
This was it, thought Birjandi.
He had dreaded and resisted this moment for weeks, but now it had come. He was being led down a series of hallways and secret chambers and antechambers, and soon he would be ushered into the presence of the Twelfth Imam.
The Bible specifically forbade followers of Jesus Christ from willingly going to meet with a false messiah, but somehow Birjandi did not feel as anxious at this moment as he had expected. He was not, after all, going willingly. He had been forced to come to Syria against his will, and he was being forced into this meeting as well. Birjandi could think of plenty of examples in Scripture of men of God being dragged before evil authorities as a result of God’s sovereignty, not their own human will. Moses was sent by God, against his will, to confront Pharaoh. Elijah was sent to confront King Ahab and the false prophets of Baal. Jesus was dragged before Pontius Pilate. The apostles Peter and Paul were brought to Rome by cruel tyrants.
Birjandi said nothing as General Hamdi led him to the Mahdi. Silently, however, he kept meditating on a passage from the Gospel of Matthew. “You will even be brought before governors and kings for My sake, as a testimony to them and to the Gentiles,” Jesus told his disciples. “But when they hand you over, do not worry about how or what you are to say; for it will be given you in that hour what you are to say. For it is not you who speak, but it is the Spirit of your Father who speaks in you.”
Again and again Birjandi repeated these words to himself as he thanked his Father in heaven for the opportunity to suffer for the name of Jesus.
As Torres raced along Highway 4 in a northwesterly direction, David, still in the backseat, called Fox on his satphone to brief him on the plan, then called Crenshaw to do the same. By the time he was done explaining everything and answering their questions, Torres indicated they were nearing Dayr az-Zawr and were approximately six minutes from intercepting the convoy.
“Marco, I need to ask you a question before we get there.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“I’m not asking as a boss,” David said. “I’m asking as a friend.”
“No problem,” Torres replied. “What’s up?”
“If we don’t make it through this thing — and you know as well as I do there’s a real chance that we won’t — do you know where you’re going?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m saying when you die, whenever that is, do you know if you’re going to heaven or hell?”
“Wow, gee; that’s a little grim, isn’t it?”
“Seriously, Marco. You’re a good man and a good friend. But we’ve never had a spiritual conversation, and I really want to know.”
“I… No… I don’t really… I haven’t given it much thought,” Torres stammered, clearly caught off guard by the question.
“You know, it’s actually kind of amazing — kind of crazy, really — that people who have jobs as dangerous as ours haven’t given this topic much thought,” David said. “I mean, you and I are willing to die for our country. That means we’re willing to plunge headlong into eternity. Yet most of us have absolutely no clear idea of where we’re going. It’s not just you. Until a few days ago, I hadn’t thought about it much either.”
“And now?” Torres asked.
“A few days ago, I got down on my knees and gave my life to Jesus Christ,” David replied, his heart racing. “Lately I’ve been reading the New Testament and really searching for the truth. And it finally became clear to me the other day how messed up I’ve been, how lost I’ve been, how much danger I’ve been in of going to hell forever, and it scared me, you know? I’ve never been a religious person. My parents were turned off by religion when they lived in Iran. And until recently I never thought much about God.”
“What happened?” Torres asked.
“A lot of things,” said David. “I found out my friend Marseille had become a follower of Christ. Then I found out Dr. Birjandi had become a Christian. Then I met Najjar Malik and heard his story of how he gave his heart and soul to Christ. And I’ve seen how much it’s changed them, how much peace and joy and courage it’s given them. And I finally decided I wanted what they had. I wanted what Christ was offering. And honestly, I should have said something to you — to all of you guys — sooner, but I didn’t. We were busy, and I wasn’t sure how to explain it. But I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t ask you right now — do you believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Savior, the Messiah?”
“Well, sure,” Torres said. “I mean, I grew up Catholic, but honestly I never really took it seriously as a kid.”
“Do you believe Jesus is the Son of God?”
“Of course.”
“Do you believe he died on the cross to pay the penalty for all your sins?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Do you believe that God the Father raised Jesus from the dead to prove to us that he really is the Messiah, the Savior, the Lord of the universe?”
“Sure, I think I’ve always believed those things,” said Torres. “My mom and my grandmom used to teach me those things growing up.”
“Then the question is: have you personally received Jesus Christ into your heart to save you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dr. Birjandi taught me that it’s not enough just to believe these things about Christ in your head,” David explained. “We must consciously, intentionally choose to receive Christ into our hearts by faith. The Bible says, ‘But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, even to those who believe in His name.’ To receive Christ, we have to admit we’re sinners, that we’ve fallen short of God’s perfect standard. And we have to ask Christ to forgive us and adopt us into his family. Have you ever done that?”