How poor even the blessed Farsi language was at painting the portrait of the man who had come to save them, Hosseini thought.
With an estimated fourteen million faithful breathlessly awaiting his first formal public appearance, the Twelfth Imam had emerged from the shadows and taken center stage. He appeared significantly younger and strikingly more good looking than Hosseini had imagined growing up. But there was no question it was him, and what a contrast to Hosseini’s old nemesis, Abdullah Mohammad Jeddawi. The Sunni Saudi king looked positively ancient as he bowed in his standard white robes before the Shia messiah. What’s more, the man looked ashen, his face gaunt, his hands trembling. Hosseini couldn’t remember a single word Jeddawi had uttered in his brief and pathetic introduction, but he hadn’t forgotten a single syllable of the Mahdi’s brief and powerful message — nor would he.
“It is time,” the Twelfth Imam had said with a strong, booming voice that instantly seemed to command both reverence and respect. “The age of arrogance and corruption and greed is over. A new age of justice and peace and brotherhood has come. It is time for Islam to unite.”
The crowd in Mecca had erupted with an intensity Hosseini had never witnessed in any public event, not even the Friday sermons delivered by his own mentor and guide when the Islamic Revolution had first begun in 1979.
“No longer do Muslims have the luxury of petty infighting and division. Sunnis and Shias must come together,” the Mahdi had continued. “It is time to create one Islamic people, one Islamic nation, one Islamic government. It is time to show the world that Islam is ready to rule. We will not be confined to geographical borders, ethnic groups, and nations. Ours is a universal message that will lead the world to the unity and peace the nations have thus far found elusive.”
Men were spellbound. Women wept. And Hosseini felt a pang of regret that he had not insisted upon being there to experience this historic, transformative event in person.
“Cynics and skeptics abound. But to them I say, it is time. Time for you to open your eyes and open your ears and open your hearts. It is time for you to see and hear and understand the power of Islam, the glory of Islam. And today, let this process of education begin. I have come to usher in a new kingdom, and today I announce to you that the governments of Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the Gulf States are joining together as one nation. This will form the core of the Caliphate. My agents are in peaceful, respectful discussions with all the other governments of the region, and in short order we will be announcing our expansion. To those who would oppose us, I would simply say this: The Caliphate will control half the world’s supply of oil and natural gas, as well as the Gulf and the shipping lanes through the Strait of Hormuz. The Caliphate will have the world’s most powerful military, led by the hand of Allah. Furthermore, the Caliphate will be covered by a nuclear umbrella that will protect the people from all evil. The Islamic Republic of Iran has successfully conducted a nuclear weapons test. Their weapons are now operational. They have just handed over command and control of these weapons to me. We seek only peace. We wish no harm against any nation. But make no mistake: any attack by any state on any portion of the Caliphate will unleash the fury of Allah and trigger a War of Annihilation.”
The Agency-owned Citation climbed rapidly and banked southeast.
David sat alone on the eight-seat business jet, ensconced in a Corinthian-leather seat, staring down at the city of his youth as it shrank in the distance behind them. He was shocked by, but grateful for, his father’s unexpected blessing. He had never dreamed of doing any of this when he was growing up. When he’d joined the Agency, he certainly had never imagined his parents approving. Just the opposite. He’d been certain they’d be furious, and he’d been glad that he was not legally allowed to tell them. But now he wished he’d broken the law earlier, telling them from the beginning. Finding out that he actually had his parents’ full support would have relieved a lot of stress.
The conversation with his father had gone much better than he’d thought on so many levels. After talking awhile longer about the CIA, David had even told him a little about his breakfast with Marseille and about the feelings he was having for her again. To his surprise, his father had actually encouraged David to keep in touch with her and try his best to, at the very least, rebuild the friendship. “Even if nothing else comes of it,” his father had said, “you could do worse than having a Harper for a friend.” His father had even mentioned not once but twice how grateful he’d been when Marseille sent flowers and a note to the hospital, and when David asked if it would be appropriate if his father added Marseille to the list of those he was e-mailing with occasional updates on his mother’s condition, he’d agreed.
Now, however, it was time for David to shift gears. Before him lay a folder of classified cable traffic and raw intel reports from throughout the Middle East, including Iran. As they reached cruising altitude, he felt completely overwhelmed by the thought of how desperately he needed to catch up on all that had happened in the past few hours and how urgently he needed to develop a plan. Was he really going back into Iran within the next twenty-four hours? It was an order he both expected and worried would be issued the moment he arrived at Langley, and if it was, he wouldn’t simply be going in to “oversee” the team of Munich Digital Systems technicians already on the ground and working around the clock in Tehran. Events were spinning out of control. War was coming too quickly. They needed an entirely different approach. But what?
David forced himself to sift through the contents of the folder. The Twelfth Imam’s decision to head from Saudi Arabia to Lebanon caught his eye first. David had expected the Mahdi to return to Tehran after his big coming-out party in Mecca. But he’d been wrong, and that worried him. He’d been distracted for the past several days. He was having trouble focusing. He stared out the window for several minutes, saw nothing but a black night sky, then closed his eyes and tried to recalibrate.
What is the Mahdi doing? What does he want? How will he try to get it? What is driving him? Vanity? Power? With so many nations and leaders joining the Caliphate so rapidly, why is he heading to Lebanon, of all places? Isn’t Lebanon already controlled by Shias? Isn’t Hezbollah the wholly owned subsidiary of Iran? Haven’t Hezbollah’s leaders and rank-and-file members been pining for the coming of the Twelfth Imam for decades? Why spend precious time shoring up his base?
David chewed on that awhile. Yes, the Mahdi had the passion of the masses in Lebanon, particularly the Shia-dominated southern tier. But perhaps he was trying to make sure Hezbollah was truly ready for war with Israel and would be loyal to him when he ordered them to strike. Perhaps he was going to review the troops. Perhaps he was going to make sure Hezbollah’s fifty thousand — plus rockets and missiles aimed at Israel were in place, fueled, armed, and ready to go. Maybe this wasn’t public relations but final preparations for war.
If that were true, where might the Mahdi go next after Beirut? David quickly scanned through the folder to see if there was any intel about the Mahdi’s schedule for the week. Unfortunately, there was none. Even details about the day ahead were sketchy.