The Last Run

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

It had been past midnight when Shirazi and the others reached the house in Natanz, some twelve kilometers outside of town, and he went inside with Zahabzeh, Kamal, and Parviz to prepare it, while Javed stayed with their prize in the van. Chace wasn't going anywhere; after stabilizing her, Shirazi had injected her with ketamine, just enough to put her down for the journey.

The house was small, used by VEVAK for long-term interrogation of prisoners, normally politically sensitive ones. Zahabzeh questioned their using it, wondered why they weren't taking Chace directly to one of the hospitals in Tehran, and then to prison.

"Two reasons," Shirazi said. "We don't want her anywhere public, anywhere her people can find her. Second, too many ears, too many people listening who might report back to the Minister. Her confession must be the confession we want, Farzan, remember. Or have you forgotten it was Kamal's bullet that killed Hossein?"

"I haven't forgotten," Zahabzeh said. "We should inform the Minister we have her, at least. Call off the search."

"Not yet. Not until we have the confession."

"I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it, Farzan. I am in charge, and this is what we are going to do. All of us together, remember?"

Zahabzeh had said nothing for a moment, watching while Parviz checked the security camera for the cell, making certain it was working. "We'll need the confession quickly."

"I am aware," Shirazi said, drily. "Once we have her in place, I'll go back to Tehran, make certain the office knows how to proceed."

"You're going back?" Zahabzeh looked at him curiously. "Why not use the phone?"

"I want to put in an appearance at the office, maintain a presence for the search." Shirazi smiled at him. "You're afraid I will go to the Minister, claim all the credit?"

"He should be informed."

"No, not yet. I told you at the start, we would take the credit together. I gave you my word."

"Yes," Zahabzeh said. "You did."

Kamal stepped out of the small room used as a cell. "We're ready."

"Help Javed move her inside. Be gentle with her, I don't want the wound reopening."

"Yes, sir."

Shirazi and Zahabzeh watched as Chace was moved into the house, followed as she was carried into the cell and laid on the cot. They had cut the blanket she had used as a makeshift manteau away during the drive, to better visualize her wounds, and now Kamal used a new blanket to cover her.

"Her boots," Zahabzeh said.

Kamal nodded, used a knife to cut the laces on Chace's shoes, tugged them free, then took her socks. Shirazi frowned, but didn't say anything; taking her shoes was logical, a means of keeping control over the prisoner, and objecting to it would have only heightened Zahabzeh's already acute suspicions.

Zahabzeh took the boots, and the four men left the cell, Javed closing and locking the door after them. Parviz was seated at the table, watching the monitor, and Shirazi glanced at the screen, saw the woman lying precisely as they had left her.

"Her things," he asked. "Where are they?"

"Here."

Zahabzeh set the boots on the edge of the table, removed the items they had taken from the spy from the pockets of his jacket. There was a satellite phone, a GPS unit, a folding knife, and several wads of rials. Shirazi looked through them all in the light, noting that both the satellite phone and the GPS unit were switched off. He turned each on, checking their respective memories. The phone's battery was nearly dead, its call log holding only one outgoing and one received in memory, each from different numbers within the U.K. Nothing else was stored. He showed the contents of the log to Zahabzeh.

"Calls to headquarters," Shirazi said. "That would explain how Mr. Lewis knew where to find her."

"Useless now."

"Most likely. I suppose we could call and find out." Shirazi gave Zahabzeh a thin smile, received one in turn, then switched the phone off and set it down again, picking up the GPS unit. There were over a half-dozen points logged in memory on the device, but without a map, there was no way to determine where they were, or their purpose. Most of them, Shirazi suspected, were false entries, inputted simply to make things look proper. Which of them would have been the rendezvous point, again, he couldn't know without a map. It was just as likely that the coordinates hadn't been set in the unit at all, that Chace had held them in her memory. He hoped it was the latter.

"Bag these up," Shirazi told Zahabzeh. "We'll need them for the trial." He left the house at ten minutes past four in the morning, and despite the late hour and the lack of sleep, felt better than he had in months. The nervousness, the tension, both were still with him, but for the first time since taking Hossein, he allowed for a slight optimism. Things had gone wrong, yes, but now, finally, they were proceeding as he had planned all along. There were complications, of course-Chace's injury foremost amongst them-but Shirazi was confident they could be managed. The hard work was done.

He had his prize.

He had Chace.

By ten in the morning, he had completed his work, issuing new directives and narrowing the search corridor for the spy to the area around Tabriz. He returned to his office, closed the door, and after some searching, found the number for Captain Bardsiri.

"Captain? This is Director Shirazi. We spoke yesterday."

"Yes, sir." The captain's nervousness radiated out of the phone.

"Regarding the incident at the checkpoint, you have filed your report?"

"No, not yet, sir. I was preparing it for submission-"

"Good. When you have completed it, I require it sent directly to my office, to me personally, along with any notes or other information about the incident. Do you understand?"

"That's… that's quite irregular, sir."

"I am aware of that, as I am also aware that my office took steps last night to capture the spy regardless of her diplomatic cover. I am trying to protect you, Captain, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you. I'll… I'll have everything sent to you this afternoon."

"Sooner would be better, Captain," Shirazi said, hanging up. He booted up his computer, found his files on Chace, and proceeded to securely delete each one in turn. Then he checked his desk, looking for anything he might have missed or forgotten, but found nothing. The files on Hossein had already been disposed of, as per the Minister's direction, and no hard-copy information existed about Chace that Shirazi was aware of.

It wasn't yet eleven in the morning when he departed, climbing back into his car to make the return trip to Natanz. He was in no hurry and stopped to do some shopping before leaving Tehran, picking out a new manteau for Chace, and a maqna'e that matched. At eleven minutes past one in the afternoon, Shirazi walked back into the house in Natanz, and the first thing he noted was that Zahabzeh was nowhere to be seen. Javed was seated at the table, watching the monitor, and on the screen he could see Chace, lying on her back, the blanket no longer covering her. Parviz and Kamal had each taken a portion of floor as a bed, dozing with their coats bundled beneath their heads.

"Where's Farzan?" Shirazi asked.

Javed turned slightly, still keeping one eye on the monitor. "He went back to Tehran, sir, as you ordered."

The sense of triumph that Shirazi had allowed to rise within him since that morning vanished entirely. "Tell me what happened."

On the floor, Parviz stirred, lifting his head. Javed glanced away from the screen, to Shirazi, puzzled. "She awoke around six this morning. Deputy Director Zahabzeh indicated he wished to question her, he took Parviz and Kamal in with him."

Parviz was up, shaking Kamal's shoulder. "He said you had given permission."

"What did you do to her?" Shirazi demanded. "Did you drug her?"

"Another shot of ketamine," Parviz said. "She wasn't talking, and the Deputy Director was concerned, he said he would have to report to the Minister. He questioned her, wanted her to confess-"

"Did he take her things?" Shirazi demanded. "The evidence we took from the spy, did Zahabzeh take them when he left?"

Javed nodded, his confusion turning to concern. "He said he was operating on your orders, that he was to present our findings to the Minister."

Shirazi moved forward, taking a closer look at the monitor, at Chace, now stirring on the cot. She was clearly still sedated, though beginning to surface. He straightened, looked over the room, then grabbed one of the chairs at the table and set it in the center of the space.

"Bring her out, now," Shirazi ordered, and Parviz and Kamal hastily got to their feet, heading for the cell door. He hadn't wanted to do it this soon, but now Zahabzeh had forced his hand. Now he had no choice.

From where he carried it at the small of his back, Shirazi drew his pistol, and waited for Parviz and Kamal to bring Tara Chace to the execution.