Whiplash

71

From the layout of the airport grounds, Nuri thought it might be possible to set up an ambush on the utility road at the eastern side; it was long and, according to the satellite photos and schematic MY-PID reviewed, generally deserted. But as soon as they neared the airport, he saw his plan would never work. There were police cars and Iranian army vehicles all around the grounds. Lights flashed; cars were being stopped at the entrance.

“What the hell’s going on?” asked Flash.

“Yeah, good question.” Nuri continued past the access road. They had weapons and surveillance gear; there’d be no chance of sneaking past a search. He drove two miles until he saw a small grocery store off the main road. He pulled off and drove around the back to the Dumpster.

A man was sitting in front of it, smoking a cigarette.

“I thought if you were Muslim you weren’t allowed to smoke,” said Flash.

The man threw away the cigarette and scurried inside. But Nuri didn’t want to take a chance, so he drove through the lot and back onto the highway, continuing until he found another store. This time there was no one in back. They stashed the weapons midway down in the Dumpster, then went back to the airport.

A pair of policemen stopped them at the gate and asked for ID. As soon as he saw Nuri’s Italian passport, he had them both get out and open the trunk. His partner went through the interior, tugging at the seat cushions and rifling through the glove compartment.

“What are these?” asked the policeman, pulling one of the transponders from Nuri’s overnight bag. It was a booster unit for the bugs.

“We use them to receive signals from the pipeline, when it is examined.” Nuri handed the man a business card. “You would be interested in hearing about this. It is very high technology. Holes in the pipe cannot be detected by the human eye. But even a small leak could cost very much money. Imagine if the faucet in your house were to drip all day. What a—”

“Your Farsi is very good,” said the man, handing him back the passport. “Have a nice trip back to Italy.”

“What is going on?” asked Nuri. “Was there a robbery?”

“No, no. The president is taking off in a few hours. The airport must be kept secure.”

Nuri and Flash got back in the car. About halfway down the main entrance road, Nuri took a right onto a utility road that would swing him back around to the hangar area. They got only fifty yards before they found the way blocked by an army truck.

“I have to go to Terminal Five,” Nuri told the soldier.

The man waved him away, directing him to turn around. Nuri tried arguing, but the man wouldn’t even listen.

“Now what?” asked Flash as they turned back.

“There’s another access road on the other side of the airport,” said Nuri. “We’ll try that.”

When the policeman walked over to the taxi, Tarid leaned forward from the back and showed the man his ID. The notation in the corner made it clear he was with the Revolutionary Guard. The officer frowned, then waved the cab through.

The soldier blocking the route to the hangars was not so accommodating. He glanced at the ID, then told the driver he couldn’t pass.

Finally Tarid got out and demanded that the soldier call his superior officer. The man asked to see the ID again. He pretended to study the photo and the official designation, which showed that Tarid was the equivalent of a colonel in the regular army. While he did this, he contemplated the consequences of displeasing a high-ranking Guard official. If Tarid made life miserable for his captain, things would become very uncomfortable. The Guard was notorious for that.

“Well?” said Tarid.

The soldier handed back the ID, then went and pulled the truck out of the way.

It was only as he walked back to the cab that Tarid realized he was being followed; a dark-colored SUV was sitting about fifty yards up the road. It was too far away for him to make out who was in the front seat, but he was convinced that the men who had given him the package had followed him here.

In fact, he was half right; the man with the flashlight had followed him by himself, ordered by Aberhadji to make sure he completed the mission.

Killing him so he wouldn’t be a witness was his own idea. His companion would take care of the man in the red jacket later on.

The sight of the truck rekindled Tarid’s paranoia. Once more he was convinced he was about to be killed. But rather than being filled with fear or paralyzed by his doubts, as he had been earlier, he began getting angry. The emotion grew steadily, and by the time the cab reached Hangar Five, he was livid. A dam had broken, and as it rushed out, his fear had drowned itself, leaving only the raw emotion.

“Wait for me,” he barked at the cab driver, slamming the door behind him. The bag’s strap caught against the door. He pulled it sharply, spinning it hard against the fender as he freed it.

A man with a red jacket ran toward him.

“Careful,” he said.

“Careful yourself,” said Tarid. He threw the bag to him.

The man caught it, cringing. “You idiot,” he said. “Get the hell out of here.”

“The hell with you, too.”

Tarid whirled and went back to the cab.

“Is that the president’s plane?” asked the cab driver timidly after he got in.

Tarid hadn’t even realized what was going on. Suddenly the fear returned.

“I have no idea,” he muttered.

Nuri and flash found the other access road cut off as well. The closest they could get was a small building used by a food services company as a short-term warehouse. They parked the car and went around to the side, looking at Hangar Five with a set of binoculars. Nuri saw the cab drive up, and saw Tarid get out of the car, but his view was blocked and he couldn’t see what Tarid was doing.

The Voice, however, picked up their conversation. The exchange left Nuri baffled. The man in the red coat was afraid as well as angry, but of what?

Careful.

What would Tarid have to be careful of? Certainly not of papers or computer records.

If he’d had nuclear material in the bag — a distant possibility, Nuri thought — there’d be no danger of it going off. Though perhaps the other man wouldn’t know.

A conventional bomb?

With the president’s plane nearby…

“You drive,” Nuri told Flash. “We want to follow the cab, but not too close.”

“Sure. But what are you doing?”

“I’m going to dig out our backup chemical sniffer and calibrate it. Then we have to figure out some way of getting into that cab right after Nuri gets out.”