Kazem shook his head. “Not at all. We had to spend more time on the design for the air-dropped weapon than the other two combined. There are two approaches to successful detonation of an air-dropped nuclear weapon.
The first is to time detonation to occur prior to the bomb’s impact. The advantage is that you don’t have to worry about the detonation mechanism surviving its encounter with the ground. The disadvantage is that unless your timing is accurate, and both the plane’s altitude and your speed high, you may be caught by the detonation. C-130s have many advantages. Their great speed is not one of them.”
Farhad nodded. “So you used the approach that allows the weapon to detonate on impact.”
Kazem smiled. “Correct. It took a lot more work and ended with a device heavier than the other two, but just like you, I didn’t want to send anyone on a suicide mission.”
Neda‘s eyes widened as she realized this was absolutely not some theoretical discussion. They were going to use three nuclear weapons in an attack on Saudi Arabia.
Neda was so distracted that she didn’t notice the hairbrush on the nightstand until she knocked it off. It fell on the tile floor with a clatter. Her heart in her throat, Neda walked silently to the wardrobe, burrowed into the spot she had chosen and closed its door after her.
A few minutes later, the door opened and the light snapped on. Neda could hear Kazem’s footsteps move closer to the wardrobe, and the spot that had seemed so safe just moments ago now left her feeling naked and exposed.
Neda closed her eyes.
A thump was quickly followed by a startled oath from Kazem. Neda guessed, correctly as it happened, that Shiri had come to her rescue. Neda prayed that Shiri would take the blame for the dropped hairbrush. As Kazem’s footsteps started to retreat, Neda mentally retracted all of her earlier unkind thoughts about Shiri.
Neda‘s heart felt as though it had stopped as soon as Kazem’s footsteps did. She then heard a sound she recognized as Kazem opening his briefcase, which he always kept locked. This was followed by a faint whirring and beep that told her Kazem had turned on his laptop. A few minutes later, the sound of the bedroom light being snapped off and the door closing told Neda it was safe to emerge from the wardrobe.
At last, a stroke of good luck! Neda could see that though he had pulled the lid partway down, Kazem had not turned off the laptop. She carefully lifted the lid up, and with her background in nuclear physics saw enough to recognize the document on the screen for what it was — information on the operation of a nuclear weapon.
Neda had kept a USB flash drive on her key ring ever since her student days, replacing it whenever a newer model struck her fancy. The latest measured slightly less than an inch long, but could still hold 64GB of data.
Thankfully the Chinese had never paid much attention to international sanctions, so such items were freely available in Iran.
In moments Neda had transferred the handful of files in the laptop’s documents folder onto the USB drive. She then carefully folded the laptop screen back to exactly where it had been when Kazem left it, and returned to her listening perch at the bedroom door, which she eased open just a crack.
Kazem shook his head and sat back down across from Farhad. “Your aunt’s cat. I have no idea why she bought it. All it does is eat and cause trouble.”
Farhad laughed. “I could say the same of some people I know.”
Kazem smiled tightly. “It does remind me, though, that we need to wrap this up before your aunt gets home.” Holding up a USB flash drive, he said, “I had originally planned to give this to you later, but it occurred to me that you should have some time to study its contents. The documents on it detail the operation of the nuclear devices we will be using. Since you will be leading the team detonating one of them, you must become thoroughly versed in its contents.”
Farhad accepted the USB drive, but was clearly troubled. “Uncle, when you say ‘we will be using’ surely you do not mean…”
Kazem interrupted him with an impatient wave of his right hand. “That is exactly what I mean. At least one of these teams needs a real expert on it. I don’t know what communication will be possible, if any, between the teams once the attacks have begun. But I know if I stay here on this couch in Iran you will have no hope of reaching me from the Saudi’s Eastern Province.”
Farhad bent his head, clearly overwhelmed. “Uncle, I and all who follow me will never forget what you are doing to make our mission a success.”
Kazem grunted. “Admiration I don’t need. Proper planning to give us all a fighting chance to make it back home to Iran I do. Let me walk you back to your car, and we can discuss the transport of the weapons from storage.”
A few minutes later, both Kazem and Farhad were gone. This time Neda had taken the precaution of ensuring that a cafe in her neighborhood would be open, so she could spend enough time there to avoid returning right on Kazem’s heels. No, she reminded herself again, Kazem was no fool.
Just a monster, willing to kill thousands.
Grishkov swore as the car he had driven from the airport to the traffic light they were now waiting to turn green was struck by the car behind them. The first startled oath became much more descriptive as continued taps on the car’s rear bumper slowly moved them into oncoming traffic.
Grishkov was astonished to see that Vasilyev was smiling.
“Truly,” Vasilyev said, “I learn more from you on every mission. I would not have thought that anatomically possible.”
“Well, I think you’ll find this a lot less amusing in a few seconds once the idiot behind us finishes pushing us into traffic,” Grishkov responded. To accent his point, the drivers crossing in front of them were beginning to honk and swerve.
Still smiling, Vasilyev said, “You don’t understand. It is your fault for having stopped at the red light at this left turn only lane. The driver behind you wishes to go straight, and after this vehicle is struck by an oncoming car will probably have a clear way to do so.”
As the force of repeated taps on their car pushed it further into the intersection, Grishkov snarled, “Enough!” After putting the car in park and applying the emergency brake he had just reached for the door handle when the light turned green.
Vasilyev now said soberly, “Remember the mission.” A vein in Grishkov’s temple was throbbing quite alarmingly, he noted.
His hands blurring and with a new stream of invective Grishkov put the car back into drive, released the brake and executed the left turn nearly fast enough to set the car on two wheels. With the high-end American owned hotel that was their destination now a few blocks in front of them, Grishkov snapped, “Are you going to tell me that was normal?”
Laughing, Vasilyev said, “Consider yourself welcomed to Saudi Arabia.”
Ten minutes later, they were checked in to the hotel, and Grishkov was frowning as he sipped his black coffee in a cafe in its ground level. It was mid-afternoon on a weekday, and they were in the back corner of a nearly deserted establishment.
Vasilyev peered over his cappuccino and smiled. “Something is bothering you. Care to share?”
Grishkov shrugged, but if anything his frown deepened. “Well, I’m no expert in these matters. But here we are in an American hotel. They have sold billions in weapons to the Saudis. After Iraq seized Kuwait and its oil, if it hadn’t been for the Americans everyone knows the oil just a few hundred kilometers south in this country would have been next. And without their support, the Saudis could never continue their campaign in Yemen.”
Grishkov paused, and looked expectantly at Vasilyev.
Vasilyev’s smile simply broadened, and he took another sip of his cappuccino.