Pandora's Ark

CHAPTER EIGHT

Deep in the center of Iran’s capital, by far the largest urban city with a population of over eight million people, al-Ghazi found it easy to hide within the bustle of the major metropolis. After meeting with Leonid Sakharov, he took an immediate flight back to his central base.

The weather was hot and dry, the sky a deep blue, a cloud not to be seen. The stink of a big city was evident with the smell of fumes and exhaust permeating the air as if a sandstorm had swept through the streets, the atmosphere cloyingly thick with haze the color of desert sand. People milled about the bazaars where animal meats hung from hooks. And al-Ghazi took it all in as he sat at a table outside an eatery enjoying a Sharbat, a sweet drink prepared from fruits and flower petals. As always he was impeccably dressed in a shirt so white that it cast a glowing radiance, whereas everyone around him wore the traditional Shalvars or Sarbands.

Patiently, while at leisure with his drink, al-Ghazi waited. His contact would be prompt, as always. So at noon when his phone rang he knew exactly who it was.

He recognized al-Zawahiri’s voice right away.

“There is no doubt the Americans will eventually come after me since they murdered Osama,” said al-Zawahiri. “After today I will stay in contact through couriers, since I must now go into exile.”

“I understand.”

“Do you have the physicist?”

“Not yet. But arrangements have been made for him to arrive in Tehran shortly. My men will be there to pick him up.”

“There will be problems getting him through customs, yes?”

“Not at all,” he answered. “I have been given assurances by custom agents at the Imam Khomeini International Airport that Dr. Sakharov will pass uncontested. If he does not, then it is understood that consequences will befall those who stay his passage.”

“Is he capable of doing the job? My sources tell me that the physicist has grown infirm.”

Al-Ghazi took a sip from his Sharbat, the outside of the glass sweating. “It appears that drink has taken his body, al-Zawahiri, but not his mind. So what has become Russia’s loss is now Allah’s gain.”

“Then you’ve done well, al-Ghazi. Allah truly shines upon you with favors.”

“I am blessed, yes.”

“Quickly, tell me of your agenda and then speak no more of it to anyone hereafter.”

“The good doctor will arrive tonight and be taken to a safe house at the northern edge of the city where he will rest. On the following morning he will then be taken to our base camp in the Alborz.”

The Alborz is a mountain range in the northern part of Iran stretching from the borders of Azerbaijan and Armenia in the northwest, to the Caspian Sea in the south. The range also borders Afghanistan to the east and seats the tallest mountain in the Middle East, Mount Damavand, which is well over 18,000 feet tall.

The range is porous with caves, like Afghanistan. But unlike Afghanistan, the region is highly protected by President Ahmadinejad’s forces since the area falls under Iranian sovereignty. To breach the area would be difficult. To find the exact location of the lab site would be almost impossible. And as far as al-Ghazi was concerned, he was untouchable.

“And you’re ready, I presume?”

“Quite. This facility is located deep within the base of Mount Damavand. President Ahmadinejad was kind enough to create a state-of-the-art laboratory that will be activated by power cells.”

“It appears that Ahmadinejad’s nuclear program has more applications than just an energy resource as he claims. I’m sure he did not do this from the goodness of his heart.”

“Of course not, but his stake is a simple one,” he said. “In exchange for his use of the lab and his continued protection, he respectfully requests that his team of scientists be given access to all data regarding Sakharov’s nanotechnology.”

There was silence on the other end.

And then: “We have no other choice?”

“The facility is well protected, al-Zawahiri. And the equipment is something the good doctor may understand. Even with my schooling, I have no concept as to what they do. They are truly state-of-the-art, which gives us the promise of achievement that would bring us victory over the infidels in a final assault that would give Allah his true station above all.”

“I may believe in you, al-Ghazi. And I may believe in Dr. Sakharov. But I do not trust Ahmadinejad. I’m afraid once this is all set and done, then he will take it all for himself.”

“There will be a fail-safe against that,” al-Ghazi returned evenly.

“And what would that be?”

“If President Ahmadinejad should fall back on his agreement, then I will make sure that the data will be compromised, rendering the entire operation useless.”

“I see.”

“There is a solution for everything,” he said. “I will maintain all data so that a lab in Pakistan has the chance to emulate the progress of what we are doing inside Mount Damavand. If Ahmadinejad falls back on his word, then at least you’ll have the necessary information to replicate the technology.”

“You’ve considered your options well,” said al-Zawahiri. “Impressive.”

“I’m a soldier of Allah’s army. I plan for every contingency.”

“And what about the Ark of the Covenant?”

“It’s safe inside the facility in Damavand,” he answered. “Once the nano project is complete, then the Ark will come into play.”

Although al-Ghazi could not see al-Zawahiri, he knew the old soldier held a pleased look about him.

“Allahu Akbar,” the old soldier finally said.

Al-Ghazi nodded, smiled. “Allahu Akbar.”

The line was severed.

Al-Ghazi then removed the SIM card from the phone, destroyed it, and quietly watched the people of Tehran mill about as he sat back and enjoyed his Sharbat.