It was late in the afternoon. Javadi decided to call it a day. He took his pistol from his desk, an Iranian copy of the Sig-Sauer P226. Javadi always carried a pistol, a holdover from his days as a field agent. Today he was in civilian clothes, so the pistol went into a shoulder holster concealed under his jacket.
He took the elevator down to the parking garage reserved for high-ranking officers like himself. His car was a new ICKO Samand. Javadi rated a driver and an armored SUV, but he preferred the comfort of his own car and the sense of privacy it offered to him. He had little enough time alone and he felt no need for extra security. No one would dare to attack him in Tehran.
He started the car and took a moment to enjoy the smell of newness that emanated from the leather upholstery and upgraded carpet. He drove out of the garage and turned onto Negarastan, the wide street that fronted MOIS headquarters. He headed for the Kordestan Expressway and his home outside the city. He climbed the entrance ramp to the elevated roadway and settled down for the drive. He was coming up on the intersection with the Resalat and Hakim Expressways, when a tractor-trailer pulled alongside and slammed into the side of his car.
Javadi fought for control. The truck pushed against him, driving him toward the low barrier on the side of the road.
"No," Javadi cried.
The truck pushed the car through the barrier. It tumbled off the raised expressway, down onto the road below, and exploded in a dramatic fireball that appeared on the evening news.
The truck continued on. The driver spoke into his headset.
"It's done," he said.
"You're certain."
The driver looked in his rearview mirror. A column of black smoke touched with orange spiraled up toward an indifferent sky.
"I'm certain," he said.
CHAPTER 57
It was incredibly peaceful, where Nick stood. He felt light, at ease, as if he were floating. There was no pain, no stress, no sense of the heaviness of flesh. He looked about. He stood in an endless field of light and color. He was aware of something like a thread, holding him from floating away. Ahead of him was a bright light. There were shapes in the light, but he couldn't quite make them out. He heard faint, beautiful music, like stars singing.
Something beeped.
He wanted to stay in the field of light. He wanted to go to where the shapes waited for him, but the thin thread tugged at him, keeping him from moving forward. There was something he needed to do, but he couldn't remember what it was.
He heard the voice of his old drill instructor.
"Can't stay here, Nick. Time to go back and finish your tour."
He was being pulled somewhere by the thread. The beeping got louder, a constant sound that wouldn't stop. Suddenly he felt heavy, dull, the floating sensation gone with the light.
Nick opened his eyes.
He was in a hospital bed. The beeping came from a monitor next to the bed. His hand hurt. He lifted his arm. An IV needle was inserted into a vein on the back of his hand and taped down. A tube ran from the needle to a bag of fluid hanging next to bed.
"Nick."
He turned his head. It hurt. Selena sat next to the bed. Her face looked worn, tired. She had deep shadows under bloodshot eyes. She reached out and laid her hand on his arm.
"You're back."
"The cop… shot me."
"Yes, but you're going to be okay."
"What about…"
"Everything's all right," Selena said.
But Nick didn't hear her. He slipped back into a dream state.
The next time he woke, Elizabeth was sitting there with Selena. His mind was clear.
"Director…"
"Hello, Nick. You gave us quite a scare."
He looked at Selena. "That was a hell of a shot."
"Laser, remember? Makes it easy."
"How long have I been here?"
"Eight days. You were in an induced coma. They had to operate. The bullet missed your heart by a few centimeters."
"You're a hero, Nick," Elizabeth said. "The papers can't stop talking about the unidentified person who stopped a terrorist from setting off a bomb in the subway."
"Unidentified?"
"The only thing the media knows is that someone stopped the attack. They don't know about Selena or the sarin. Everything is under the cloak of national security. I'm afraid you don't get any parades out of this one."
"I never was big on parades, anyway."
"You have a lot of time off coming," Elizabeth said. "When you get out of here, you and Selena can go to a tropical island somewhere and take it easy."
Nick looked at Selena. "Are you okay?"
She could hear the effort it took to speak in his voice.
"I'm fine." She patted her abdomen. "We're fine."
Lamont and Ronnie came into the room. Lamont had a box under his arm.
"I brought you a pizza," Lamont said. "I figured you might be hungry."
"Don't mind him Nick," Ronnie said. "It won't go to waste if you don't want it. He'll polish it off himself."
"I'll pass, Lamont."
Lamont shrugged. "Your loss," he said. He smiled. "How you doin', Bro?"
"I had some weird dreams. My old DI was talking to me. He's been dead for ten years."
"That's not a dream, that's a nightmare," Ronnie said.
Selena looked at Nick. He looked terrible, pale and weak. She wasn't used to seeing him like that. He'd been shot before, but not like this. This one had scared her. He'd died on the operating table, but they'd pulled him back.
Her hand went to her belly. I could have lost him. It could have been me. I could have lost the baby.
A nurse came into the room. She was big and strong, used to having her own way.
"How did you all get in here? He's not supposed to have visitors. Everybody out, now."
"I'm his wife," Selena said. "I'm staying."
"No exceptions," the nurse said.
"Selena," Nick said. "Go. I'm all right."
"Come on, Selena," Elizabeth said. "I'll take you home. You can come back in a few hours. You need some sleep."
Selena was bone tired, more tired than she could remember. Elizabeth was right. She felt like she could sleep for a week.
She would sleep, and Nick would heal. Everything would be fine. The mission was over.
Until the next time.
NOTES
The story of King Solomon and his vast treasure is found in the Old Testament. Historians argue about whether or not Solomon actually existed. They argue about the existence of his father, David. Almost anything that is found in the Old Testament can be (and is) disputed, but there is no doubt that many of the events and people mentioned did indeed exist, and that they may have interacted in the ways described in the old texts.
Solomon's wealth supposedly came from the cities of Ophir and Tarshish. These fabulous places have not been identified. Ophir may have been somewhere in India, Tarshish in the Malaysian Archipelago. The Bible says that Solomon received a shipment from Ophir every three years that included gold, precious jewels and rare woods. These shipments were received at the port of Ezion-geber, an actual city which has yet to found. The remains of the port lie buried somewhere near Eilat.
Sarin is one of the most evil creations of the human mind. It is a nerve agent that is extremely lethal in very low concentrations. It acts by paralyzing the lung muscles, and it's a terrible way to die. It has been used by terrorists in Japan and released upon enemies of the regime in Syria. A container of sarin, such as the one described in the book, could easily kill hundreds or even thousands of people if the gas were released in a crowded area. It would be particularly effective in a metropolitan subway system.
When Dayoud is about to set off his bomb and release the gas on the subway platform, he is holding a device called a clacker in his hand. Clackers have been used to detonate things for decades. Those who served in Vietnam will remember them. They were used to set off Claymore mines. As far as I know, they still are. They look a little bit like a hand held stapler. When the lever is depressed, an electrical current is sent to the explosive device. They are cheap and plentiful, and very simple to operate. They are just the sort of uncomplicated device a terrorist might use to detonate a bomb.