The Secret Service took his sidearm and phone, then had him empty his pockets and walk through the magnetometer. A uniformed agent then walked him from the West Executive Avenue guard post into the West Wing. There he signed in and waited until two plainclothes agents took him up to the residence. To his surprise, he was ushered into the solarium and was told the president would meet him there in a few moments.
Murray adjusted his tie and picked lint off his blazer. He checked his breath for a third time, then opened his black binder and reviewed his notes several more times. A few moments later, the president entered. Murray stood at attention. Jackson made no small talk and didn’t shake his hand. He looked tired and annoyed, and Murray was certain from his slightly disheveled appearance that he had awoken and dressed hurriedly only moments before.
“Roger says you have news.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, what couldn’t wait until morning?”
“We’ve received a report from our man in Iran.”
“Zephyr?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And?”
“He has another senior nuclear scientist in custody — Tariq Khan, nephew of A. Q. Khan, the father of the—”
“—the Pakistani Bomb, yeah, I got it — so what?” the president snapped.
“Khan gave up what he knows — the locations of the warheads, the missiles. We have everything, sir.”
“Everything?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And it’s all confirmed?”
“Well, we’re working to verify it all now, sir. But several of the key facts he gave us check out 100 percent. And other critical pieces he gave us confirm other inside sources we have. Bottom line: we believe we’ve got what we need, Mr. President.”
“For what?” Jackson asked.
“Well, for an air strike, sir.”
“An air strike?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now the CIA is giving me policy advice.”
“No, sir. I’m just saying that—”
“I know what you’re saying, Mr…. What did you say your name was?”
“Murray, sir — Tom Murray.”
“Right, whatever. Listen, I’m the commander in chief. You’re a spy. You give me data. I make the decisions. Not you. Not Langley. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you think I’m going to launch a new war in the Middle East with one source?”
“With all due respect, sir, it’s not just one. It’s the latest one.”
“Right, right, but in terms of nailing down the precise locations of these warheads, how do we know this guy isn’t lying? You tortured him, right?”
“Not exactly.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not, sir. But, yes, Khan was wounded in the operation.”
“Wounded?”
“Yes.”
“Severely, I imagine.”
“Yes, sir.”
“In a cross fire?”
“No, sir.”
“By one of our agents?”
“Yes.”
“Tortured, then.”
“Disabled.”
“Disabled?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have a full report for you in the morning. The point is—”
“The point is he would have said anything to keep this Zephyr guy from putting a bullet through his head.”
“As I said, Mr. President, many of the key details have already been verified or corroborate what we know from completely independent, unrelated sources. And as the director’s memo to you earlier today stated, the evidence is mounting that the Twelfth Imam is preparing for imminent attacks against Israel. We don’t have much time, Mr. President. If we don’t act quickly on the information we have, it could all be useless to us after a few days.”
“Well, I need more.”
“More?”
“Yes, Mr. Murphy, more. Did you see the Twelfth Imam’s speech?”
“I read the transcript.”
“Then you know he’s reaching out to us,” the president said, pacing about the room now. “He’s clearly saying he wants peace. He’s telling us to keep the Israelis contained until we can talk on the phone and in person at the UN next week. And he’s right. There’s too much at stake here. I’m not going to let the Israelis drag us into a war. And I’m sure not going to start a war based on a single source.”
“It’s not just Zephyr and Khan, Mr. President. There’s Chameleon as well.”
“Chameleon is secondhand. It’s hearsay.” Jackson sniffed. “Khan might be legit. I’ll grant you that. But there’s another scientist, too, isn’t there? What’s his name?”
“Jalal Zandi.”
“Right, Zandi — isn’t he just as important as Khan?”
“We believe so, yes.”
“Then get him, too. Get them both. Let’s see if their stories match. Only then will I decide if there are going to be any air strikes.”
The president said good night and walked out, and Murray stood there alone, looking over the South Lawn and at the Washington Monument, lit up in the distance. He had no words to explain how disoriented and alone he felt at that moment. He and his team had risked their lives to give the president the best chance at stopping a nuclear holocaust, and the man had kicked the can down the road. What’s more, he had now given them a near-impossible task that would put more American lives at risk, not to mention all of Israel. How had the character of American leadership sunk this low?
“Mr. Shirazi, my name is Torres. I’m your ride home.”
Marco Torres broke out in a wide grin and shook David’s hand. David gave the special forces team leader a bear hug in return and started breathing again. The two men stood in front of the cabin and compared notes, while a medic attended to Khan inside the cabin.
Torres was six foot three, twenty-nine years old, and a former Marine sniper from San Diego. He’d joined the CIA after two tours in Afghanistan. Torres apologized for how long it had taken him and his team to get into the country from Bahrain, link up with their Agency contacts, and track him down, but for David, there was no need for apologies and no time for small talk. He was glad to see so many friendly faces and so much firepower, and it was time to get moving.
“Our orders are to get you and Mr. Khan to the safe house in Karaj and then fly you out in the morning,” Torres said.
“Well, your orders have changed,” David replied. “Have your second squad take Khan, fix him up, and get him out of the country for further interrogation. The rest of you need to hustle. We’re going to Qom.”
The Twelfth Imam gathered with his inner circle.
Javad had made certain they were all assembled on the porch of the Qaleh. Now they were sipping tea and discussing what might have happened to Tariq Khan and what this meant for the rest of their war plans, but when the Mahdi came out, they all bowed to worship him until they were released.
“Gentlemen, as I told Javad here, I am not worried about Mr. Khan,” the Mahdi began. “He was expendable. Allah’s plans cannot be thwarted. So you needn’t worry. Mr. Khan is not why I have gathered you. The bigger issue is Jerusalem. Namely, what shall be done with it?”
Javad noticed the surprise in each of the men’s eyes. He saw Darazi look to Hosseini and then over to Faridzadeh. As he expected, however — indeed, as the Mahdi had privately predicted to Javad just moments earlier — Hosseini was the first to speak, and he took no position at all.
“It does not matter what we believe, my Lord. What is Allah’s will concerning the future of Jerusalem?” the Supreme Leader said.
“I’m not asking for your advice or your recommendations,” the Mahdi said. “I’m asking for your understanding from all the ancient writings about the future of Jerusalem.”
The men seemed taken aback by the question, but at the Mahdi’s urging, they took a few minutes to discuss it among themselves. When they were finished, Hosseini spoke again.