Whiplash

66

Tarid spent a miserable afternoon and evening in Tehran. While initially relieved that Bani Aberhadji did not suspect him of skimming, the fact that his leader felt the operation had been compromised was nearly as bad. While Tarid didn’t want to believe it could be true, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that everything that had happened since he met the arms dealer named Kirk could have been arranged to increase his confidence in him.

Bani Aberhadji had checked the man out himself, and directed him to meet him personally. But that fact was unlikely to persuade Aberhadji toward any sort of leniency if it turned out that Tarid had brought the CIA to Aberhadji’s doorstep.

The hotel seemed particularly drab when he returned. Simin was out. The hotel owner was in a quiet, almost hostile mood. Tarid passed dinnertime in his room, lying on his bed, considering what he would do next. It occurred to him that he could run — flee not just Iran, but Africa as well. But there were few places he could go where Bani Aberhadji and the Guard could not reach if they wanted. No place was safe, short of Israel, and the idea of spending the rest of his life amidst Zionists seemed worse than death. He kept telling himself that he could persevere, that he had been in worse spots. His morale would hold for a few minutes, then fade.

For a while he dozed. When he woke, it was dark and his stomach growled. He decided to go out and find some food.

Tarid had just pulled on his shoes when his sat phone rang.

His fingers froze in a cramp as he grabbed it, paralyzed by fear when he saw the number on the screen. It was Bani Aberhadji. The only reason he could be calling, Tarid thought, was to tell him to initiate the meeting with Kirk.

He was standing at the edge of a precipice he had to jump from, yet he was too scared to edge forward.

Finally, he hit the Receive button.

“This is Tarid.”

“I need you to meet someone and make a delivery.”

“I—” Tarid was so taken by surprise that he didn’t know what to say. But there was no refusing Bani Aberhadji. “Yes,” he managed finally. “Tell me where and when.”

AFTER RENTING TWO CARS SO THEY WOULD HAVE TRANSPORTATION and a backup, Nuri and Flash spent the evening going from one restaurant to another, lingering as they watched the hotel where Tarid was sleeping. Nuri drank so much tea that his whole body vibrated with caffeine. It had no noticeable effect on Flash.

“It doesn’t affect you at all?” asked Nuri.

“Not a bit. Coffee’s the same way.”

“You should leave your body to science.”

Nuri had decided he would bug the hotel room the next time Tarid went out. While Bani Aberhadji was now a more interesting target, Tarid might yet reveal a few more useful tidbits, especially if he returned to Sudan. So Nuri had prepared another bug to attach to his suitcase.

They were sitting in the restaurant directly across the street from the restaurant when MY-PID flashed the news of the Israeli attack on the Sudan facility. Nuri was still digesting the implications when the bug picked up Bani Aberhadji’s phone call to Tarid.

He put his hand to his ear, ducking his head to the table as he listened. From Tarid’s side of the conversation, it sounded as if Aberhadji was telling him to arrange for the meeting with Danny, aka Kirk. But within moments the text of the entire conversation was available via an elint satellite that had been scanning for the signal from Tarid’s satellite phone.

Something else was up. Though what it might be wasn’t clear.

“We need our car,” Nuri told Flash, rising and leaving some change for a tip.

They left the restaurant and walked down the block.

Tarid was going to be assassinated, Nuri thought.

If that was the case, it was a fantastic opportunity — if Tarid could be rescued just in the nick of time, Nuri reasoned, he would be grateful to his rescuers and have nothing to lose by cooperating with them. If he played the situation right, they would not only have a wealth of information about the Iranian weapons program, but statements and a witness who, in some form, could be used to implicate the Iranians in the wider world.

But arranging for Tarid’s rescue was a difficult task, especially for two people working on the fly.

“We’ll ride together,” Nuri told Flash. “You drive. I need to figure something out. All right?”

“I’ll try.”

Nuri checked in with Danny as soon as they got into the vehicle. Danny and Hera were on their way to the van, planning to follow one of the trucks.

“Stay with Bani Aberhadji,” Nuri told Danny. “He’s the main target right now. They’re scrambling because of the attack on the weapons plant. He may lead you to other parts of the network.”

“If they uncrate what they’ve got, we’ll never be able to find them,” said Danny. “And we only marked half of the boxes. We don’t even know what’s in them. At least one was big enough for a warhead—”

“Don’t worry about all that right now,” said Nuri. “Just trust that we can find them again. Stick with Aberhadji.”

Nuri suspected that Danny was thinking about striking the trucks. He was a military man, and thought like one. But it was too impractical; if they failed, they’d lose everything.

“Subject Tarid is exiting the hotel,” said the Voice.

“Danny, I’ll check back with you in a few minutes,” Nuri said. “We’re going to follow Tarid. We may end up picking him up if it looks like they’re going to kill him.”

“How?”

“That’s a problem for the future.”