Eva grabbed the remote off of Murray’s coffee table and switched back to the BBC Persian channel. Sure enough, the BBC was simulcasting the feed from the Christian satellite network. Whether they were pirating it as a “news event” or had some sort of deal with the network, she had no idea. But it didn’t really matter. The point was that millions of Iranians were watching this thing. She didn’t yet know the repercussions for herself or her team, but she feared Najjar was making a horrific mistake and was going to pay dearly.
“War is coming, my dear brothers and sisters,” Najjar said finally.
The hour was coming to a close, and he was almost pleading with his fellow Iranians to listen to him carefully as he stared into the camera.
“Humanly speaking, war can no longer be avoided. Only God can stop this war, and not the god of Islam. Not the Twelfth Imam. Not the mullahs or the ayatollahs. Their god — the god of Islam — wants a war. He wants to rob, kill, and destroy all that we know and love and hold dear to our hearts. But the One True God — the God of the Bible, the God of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ — He is the Prince of Peace. He came to bring us life — eternal and abundant and fruitful and meaningful.”
David found himself transfixed, as were the others in the room. He had read Najjar’s story in the transcripts of his conversations with Eva. He knew the basic trajectory of Najjar’s conversion. Yet there was something about seeing a man tell such a story at such a moment on worldwide television at the risk of his life — and at the risk of being taken down by the FBI on the air — that David found more compelling than he would have thought. He found himself impressed by Najjar’s earnestness and drawn to the depths of his conviction.
“Jesus Christ is the only one who can stop this war,” Najjar concluded. “Pray to Him. Get on your knees — get down on your faces — and ask Him to forgive you, beg Him to save you, implore Him to redeem you and your family and your nation. For Jesus Christ is all that stands between us and an eternity in hell. He may not spare us from war. He may let this war come to punish us for our wickedness. But He will save you individually if you ask Him. Jesus said, ‘I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die.’ My friends, now is the time. This is the day. This is the time of God’s favor. Receive Jesus Christ by faith and receive the free gift of eternal life before it is too late.”
David glanced at Birjandi and wondered how it could be that he and Najjar were reading from the same playbook.
“Did any of you write down Dr. Malik’s Twitter account address?” asked the oldest of the group, a guy named Ali, who had been the quietest in the room thus far.
“Yes, here it is,” said the youngest, Ibrahim, the guy who had just outed himself as a follower of Christ. “I just signed up myself.”
They all signed up, even David, who was embarrassed at not already having a Twitter account, something he had never even considered before. But how could he not follow everything Najjar was telling the world? Wasn’t he supposed to be in the intelligence business? How could he let twentysomethings in Iran know more than he did? He doubted Roger Allen or Tom Murray were going to track Najjar, and he wondered if Zalinsky had even heard of Twitter.
“Do you guys all think he’s right?” David asked the group. “Do you think that ‘humanly speaking, war can no longer be avoided’?”
They all did.
“Why?” David pressed. “I mean, is it just for the reasons Dr. Malik said? Is it a gut instinct? Or something else?”
“The Israelis are going to hit us,” Ibrahim said. “They’re not going to wait. They’ve heard what the Mahdi and our Supreme Leader and our president have said. They’ve heard all the threats, and they’re going to strike first. You mark my words.”
The cleric next to Ibrahim vigorously disagreed. “You’re wrong, Ibrahim. The Americans will hold back the Israelis. That’s why they sent the CIA director to Jerusalem. That’s why the president is going to talk to the Mahdi. The Americans think the Mahdi can be reasonable. They have no idea who they’re dealing with. When the war comes, and I believe it will come any day, it will be because the Mahdi initiated it. And it’s going to be bloody. Many, many will die.”
“You’re misreading the Israelis,” Ibrahim countered. “They’re close to the Americans, yes. But at their core they are driven by their memories of the Holocaust and their determination to never allow another one to occur. Don’t you remember how the Israeli Air Force hit Saddam’s nuclear facilities in 1981 at Osirak? Don’t you remember how they hit Assad’s nuclear facilities near Damascus in 2007? The Israelis are coming here next. To think the Americans could offer them anything to dissuade them from defending themselves against what they perceive is an impending second Holocaust is fantasy.”
Then Ali weighed in unexpectedly. “I wish the Americans could do something — anything — to stop this war,” he said with a deep sense of sadness in his voice and in his eyes. “But it’s coming, and fast. Ibrahim, my friend, you are wise beyond your years. You have insight and knowledge that make me envious. But in this case you are wrong. The Israelis will never get the chance to strike first because the Tehran Initiative is now in motion, and it cannot be stopped.”
“What’s the Tehran Initiative?” David asked.
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“The Tehran Initiative is the Mahdi’s doomsday scenario,” Ali said.
“Meaning what?” David pressed.
“Yeah, what are you talking about?” Ibrahim asked.
“To destroy Israel and wipe out all the Jews,” Ali explained. “I don’t know all the details. I just know what my father told me. He said he can’t be at my son’s birthday party on Saturday because he has been summoned to the Qaleh for a final strategy meeting for the Tehran Initiative. That was all he said, and then he hung up the phone.”
“When was that?” Ibrahim asked.
“This morning, just after breakfast,” Ali said. “I can’t even tell you how ticked off my wife is at him. She’s been planning this party for weeks, and my dad promised to attend. But my mom says it’s not just him. Faridzadeh and Jazini have ordered all of their senior commanders to be there. They’ve canceled all military leaves, at least in the air force and the missile command units. This morning they began issuing orders to call up the air combat reserves. I don’t know what’s happening with the army, but my mom said the rumor is all the families of the air force senior commanders are going to be moved to special bunkers starting tomorrow. My point is, Dr. Malik is dead-on. War is coming, and the Mahdi is going to start it.”
The whole group erupted in discussion, and David wasn’t sure how to proceed without looking too interested. He didn’t know them, and they didn’t know him. He had to tread carefully. He trusted Birjandi, and Birjandi clearly trusted these young men. But they didn’t know he was CIA. They thought he worked for a phone company. He couldn’t suddenly be asking questions that were too probing or too detailed. Ali was saying that Iran’s minister of defense and the commander of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps were making final preparations to attack Israel. David assumed that to be true, but how would Ali know such things, and who was his father?
As if reading David’s mind, Birjandi leaned over and whispered, “Ali’s father is a highly decorated general in the Iranian Air Force. Flies F-4s. Last I heard, he commands Tactical Air Base number six.”
“In Bushehr?” David whispered back as the rest of the group buzzed about the new details Ali had just provided.