by Alan L. Lee
“What should I really call you, McBride?” Mueller asked as he assembled the various items he needed as quickly as possible.
“Alex.”
“I’m Nathan.” They didn’t bother to shake hands. “I have to ask you something. There was a woman in Annapolis. Erica Janway. Was she a good person? Loyal to her country?”
It was a strange question but Alex was able to piece together its significance. “No question. She was a mentor and friend to the person I’m helping.”
“So your friend became a target as well.”
“Exactly.”
Yadin began stepping into the suit. “This operation has been in the works for a number of years. In the beginning, your country and mine covertly supplied the Iranians with faulty parts and materials, hoping that setback after setback would cause them to abandon the idea of achieving nuclear status. It succeeded in delaying their goal, but they were persistent. Once your country backed off, feeling enough had been accomplished, a decision was then made to start giving them legitimate parts in order to gain their trust. These parts were just enough to whet their appetite. They went on to spend billions. In order to build their program, they had to go through the fictitious Dr. Mueller. The stipulation was they had to trust me beyond question or their program would be dead. They were idealistic and desperate enough to accept the terms. As a result, we pretty much had total control in building this facility. We controlled the blueprints, the parts, and managed the go-betweens they had to deal with. All orchestrated.”
Alex checked the suit for any defects. “You built it to tear it down?”
“Precisely, and at a tremendous cost to the Iranians. What they had no way of knowing was that mixed in with legitimate materials were craftily altered items that would pass expert inspection. And since I normally ordered them, after a while, not even those got a second look. The materials were designed to work perfectly until they were triggered to malfunction.” Yadin had one arm in the suit and was about to insert the other when he showed Alex his watch. “This is a very special piece of equipment. It emits certain high-frequency signals and can be set much like an alarm clock to go off at different intervals. Some of these walls are made of a C4 base mold. The electrical wire going through them gets a charge, and boom! The centrifuges you inspected in Tbilisi were designed to malfunction and spin at uncontrollable rates when set off.”
“But now you’ve got a problem?”
“Yes, those reactors. The warning signals were supposed to just be a scare tactic. They were false notifications. There shouldn’t be a real meltdown in progress.”
“Well, you can see the irony. Faulty parts not responding?”
“There were numerous safeguards in place. The reactors were supposed to be shut down and buried in a deep grave. The potential disaster hopefully would have been enough of a deterrent to prevent further endeavors and give pause to other countries in the region.”
Yadin was outfitted with the entire suit except for the protective helmet. “I suspect others wanted to make more of a statement, which means I was deceived. At this point, I can’t trust anything that was arranged to ensure my safety. But you have to go. I’ve bought you a little time by delaying the next explosion. It’s going to be huge. The escape route won’t be open for long, so you’ve got to get to the surface. When you get out, pay attention to which direction the wind is blowing and go the opposite way. Even if I can’t shut this down, you might get lucky.”
Yadin explained the exact direction Alex needed to take. He doubted if anyone else knew the path existed. Alex walked Yadin to a nearby elevator that would take him down to the reactor floor. Yadin stepped in, fully insulated, a tool box in one hand. With the other he punched the appropriate button. Just as the doors were about to close, he held them in check.
He had to speak louder through the airtight helmet. “Tell your friend I’m sorry. They told me Janway was a threat, a cancer to the operation. Someone who had betrayed her country. You know about Senator Lipton, but the real puppet master is a billionaire named Roger Daniels. If your friend wants closure, don’t try to get it in a court of law. He has too much influence.”
Yadin released his grip, allowing the elevator door to slowly clamp shut. Alex took a deep breath before hauling ass as rapidly as he could.
CHAPTER 74
Alex had no choice but to trust the Mossad agent who called himself Nathan. As he sprinted down corridors, knocking bodies out of the way, Alex was aware he was taking the word of a man who’d tried to kill him just minutes before. The same man who’d killed Erica Janway. And yet, as the structure around him was on the verge of buckling, there was no other option except to follow the man’s instructions to the letter.
The door Alex was looking for was right where Nathan said it would be. It was down a narrow passage off a main hallway. The halls leading to it were obscured by shadows, so it was understandable that in a panic situation, no one would have thought an exit existed. He was about to punch in the last digit of the access code on the security panel when he heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol assembly slide being locked into place. He muttered an expletive under his breath and slowly turned to see the demure presence of Farid pointing a pistol at his head. What made Alex nervous was the assault weapon in the shaking hands of a Revolutionary Guard soldier flanking Farid.
“What are you doing, Mr. McBride, if that is indeed your real name?”
“Trying to get out like everyone else,” Alex hurriedly said, realizing there was no time for this.
“You arrive here for the first time today, and you’re familiar with a part of the building that is well hidden. And,” Farid motioned toward the security panel, “you know access codes as well.”
The Revolutionary Guard soldier seemed to be questioning the wisdom of being here. His eyes were darting from side to side, not liking this poorly lit area at all. Farid, however, was waiting on an answer.
“Dr. Mueller gave me the code and told me how to get here.”
“And where is he now?”
“Trying to shut down the reactor so that this doesn’t become our final resting place.” While Farid was measuring the merits of the situation, Alex reached in his pocket and brought the knife to rest on his shielded side. Just then, what little light there was flickered off and on as the ground moved. Chewed up pieces of concrete dislodged from above, adding to the mayhem. The soldier’s attention was diverted upward as he used his free hand to cover his head. Alex had the opening he needed. He grabbed Farid’s gun hand and wrenched it nearly to the point of breaking. He also kicked Farid’s left foot away to knock him off balance. Farid yelped with pain and had no choice but to let the gun fall from his hand. By the time the soldier realized what was happening, he couldn’t react. Alex started his right hand from well behind his head with blinding momentum. He didn’t stop until the weight of the guard stabilized. By then, though, his Adam’s apple was shattered. Alex followed up by stabbing him in the heart, removing the blade as he turned to catch Farid trying to retrieve his gun. Alex kicked the weapon away and thrust the knife into the back of Farid’s neck as he stepped over him to reach the security panel, where he once again entered the code.
Despite all that was going on around him, Alex was alone in a quiet, long corridor just wide enough for electric carts to travel in either direction. As promised, a cart was parked and waiting. Alex had it moving in seconds, his foot fully depressed on the pedal, willing it to go faster. Its speed was slowed by the upward climb, which resembled a paper clip in design. The hallway led to a dead end with one exit door. Alex entered the same pass code as before. The green light gave him access to a stairwell. It was difficult to judge how many flights there were, but the only way to go was up, and he didn’t think about it. He started off taking two stairs at a time. Six levels had been cleared when he heard a deafening explosion below him. It rattled the stairwell, and parts of the wall cracked open. There definitely was no going back. His lungs burning for air, Alex was
grateful to see there were no stairs after two more levels. Not knowing what was on the other side, he took a couple of gulps of air before flinging open the exit door in front of him. The bright sun was blinding, forcing him to stop dead in his tracks. He raised his right arm as a shield, helping his eyes adjust as he pressed forward. There were frantic people running everywhere. He narrowly dodged a jeep that zoomed past him. Not even the blaring sirens could drown out screams of “Get out! Get out! Save yourselves!”
Alex made a run for a sedan that was loading up but was too late. Its doors closed and the vehicle jetted off. Fifty yards away, he located another vehicle. From the corner of his eye he saw that others had designs on the SUV as well. Taking off in a full-blown sprint, Alex reached the vehicle before the other men, who’d had a shorter distance to travel. As he opened the driver’s side door, an arm forcefully grabbed his shoulders, trying to drag him away. Alex squatted to dislodge the hand. Still low, he pivoted and began to rise. He struck the man in several key body parts with extreme force and speed. The final blow was an open hand thrust under the man’s chin. He fell to the ground dazed and unable to respond. Seeing this, his friends backed away and ran off to find another means of escape. Thankful the keys were in the ignition, Alex put the car in gear and floored it. He was about four miles away from the compound when in the rearview mirror he saw a sea of dirt and sand rise high in the sky, as if a giant fan had been turned on.
Several miles later, he phoned Nora and instructed her to be waiting with all the necessary paperwork and credentials outside the hotel. Panic wouldn’t have reached Tehran yet, so they would have a head start before the roads jammed. When he pulled up to the hotel, Nora jumped into the front seat. All she carried was her purse and a pillowcase filled with nothing but essential items. Alex drove like an ambulance driver to exit Tehran. Nora explained that they had to head north toward Azerbaijan. She studied her phone. Sara had e-mailed a detailed map with their route well marked. Once on the highway, it was all just about speed. Alex stayed on the Tehran-Karaj Freeway for several miles, veering onto Freeway 1 toward Rasht. From there, they hugged the coastline along Road 49 en route to the border crossing at Astara. Along the way, Nora made contact with Sara again. If everything went according to plan, they’d soon be safe.
Getting everything to go according to plan was no small and inexpensive feat. The CIA had to enlist the services of a highly respected career diplomat who was an expert on the region with well-placed friends. He decided to help despite his hurt feelings. Just a few months prior, his nomination to be ambassador to Azerbaijan had been unceremoniously derailed in Congress due to opposition from Armenian-American interest groups. An easier route would have been to ask Israel to intervene, since they had a working relationship with the country, but based on the current situation, President Hudson thought it was an unwise request to make. Not knowing who was a part of this sordid mess, he felt it best to keep the Israelis in the dark on what they already knew.
Arrangements and payments went down to the wire, but when Alex and Nora joined the line at the border crossing, a couple of Iranian policemen took particular interest in their vehicle. They approached and demanded to see identification. Satisfied with visual confirmation, the guards stepped back and ordered Alex and Nora to exit, instructing them to leave the keys in the ignition. Alex didn’t know what to make of it, but he felt their luck had possibly run out. They were marched toward the border crossing.
Alex formed a big smile when he saw Duncan and Sara waiting on the other side. Sara gave the guard standing next to her a nod, and he in turn did the same to his counterpart on the Iranian side of Astara. A few minutes later, Alex and Nora crossed the border.
“You crazy, amazing son of a bitch,” Duncan remarked as he gave Alex a huge bear hug.
CHAPTER 75
Al Jazeera news network was the first to report it. The news was met with some skepticism, but the entire Arab world took note, especially Iran’s nearest neighbors. Shortly after, CNN got wind of the story, making it accessible to the world. Other cable news outlets followed suit. About three hours after video aired of President Shahroudi proudly proclaiming Iran had joined the ranks of countries with nuclear power came word of a major catastrophe. One announcer uttered the words that drew people closer to their televisions and radios: “Nuclear disaster.”
The Iraqi government responded by taking air samples. So far everything was all clear, and the wind, thank Allah, was blowing away from its borders. Turkmenistan also monitored the situation with uneasiness, putting the country’s health care system on alert. The prevailing winds were blowing in a southeasterly direction. That set off a panic in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Word of mouth was spreading among border colonies, and people and possessions were left behind as a mad exodus inland began. Government officials tried to inform the escaping masses that test results were yielding no cause for concern. Having endured years of being lied to by various governments, they marched on.
There was no official confirmation or denial from Iran, but the story was sensitive enough to warrant talk of an immediate meeting by the League of Arab States.
In the United States, various governmental agencies were up to speed on what happened long before any news report. Satellites that routinely monitored the comings and goings at the Natanz facility yielded pictures of a complex that was there one minute and virtually swallowed by a giant sinkhole the next. Since it was early morning in Washington, the right people were already up, prepping for the day when they got the call. Al Jazeera was reporting hundreds of casualties as the first shaky pieces of mobile phone video were broadcast. The images weren’t specific but they did convey panic, showing mostly workers scrambling to escape the area.
There was much speculation in the Arab world that the West had masterminded the incident in response to Shahroudi’s bravado, backing up their promise that Iran would not be allowed to become a nuclear state. But calmer, more rational analysts conveyed the fact that such a strike so quickly after Shahroudi’s announcement was implausible. That there were no reports of military planes or missiles crossing the necessary borders to carry out such a response gave weight to their observations. The United States immediately offered assistance through the Iranian embassy and NATO after attempts to reach President Shahroudi directly were unsuccessful. Most of the European Union duplicated the gesture, only to be rebuffed.
Yosef Ezra watched the events unfold at work with colleagues. One would have been hard-pressed to find sadness in the room of Mossad employees. From their point of view, an unnerving threat was now off the books. Plus, there was no doubt Iran would now have less money to funnel to hostile groups like Hamas. The cost in human life was tragic, but the Iranians had brought this upon themselves.
As more details slowly filtered in through news reports and assets in the region, it was clear something had not gone according to plan. There was no evidence of a radiation leak of any kind. If those reactors had malfunctioned like they were supposed to have, there would be condemnation from all over the globe for Iran’s miscalculated steps. Its surrounding neighbors would be at the brink of war if radiation encroached upon their borders. Afghani chieftains alone would be up in arms if their precious poppy fields were contaminated for years to come.
There was one other uncertainty that kept Ezra relatively quiet. What was the status of Nathan Yadin? If the reactors’ cores hadn’t been breached, it was conceivable Yadin was responsible. Ezra had never encountered a more dangerous man. Yadin was more than a walking, thinking, killing machine. He had a high IQ to supplement his deadly skill. Judging from the images, it was entirely possible Natanz’s collapse was now Yadin’s tomb. Surely he wouldn’t have had enough time to prevent the reactors from leaking and then escape. Ezra rubbed his weary eyes. Yadin was capable of the impossible. He’d seen that over the years. For that reason alone, he had built in an insurance plan on Yadin’s planned escape route. All the ambush team had needed for success was the slightest indecisi
on on Yadin’s part. Ezra wouldn’t be at ease until he knew for sure, but if Yadin was buried beneath tons of sand and metal, only time would ease his fears.
* * *
Several hours had passed since the first report, and the rest of the world showed its resiliency or lack of concern by adhering to daily routines as if nothing happened. The night pulse of Brussels was just beginning to thump. Restaurants and bars were jammed with patrons, their noise indicating life was meant to be enjoyed. The navy sedan with tinted windows cautiously moved along, just another clog in the chaotic driving conditions of Brussels. There were five occupants in the car, four of whom could see clearly: the driver, the man in the front passenger seat, and the two men sitting in the back, bookending Davis Lipton, who sat blindfolded in the middle. The man on his left made him extremely nervous as he bounced to the music blasting from the car’s speakers, all the while pressing a silenced weapon against his stomach. They’d been traveling for nearly thirty minutes, mostly due to the traffic, but also because they were scouting for the right location. Without warning, the car came to an abrupt stop and the rear doors opened just as quickly. A firm hand pulled Lipton by the shirt while the man on his left supplied a push in the back as he was led out of the car. They turned him around and forced him to sit down on what felt like a bench. He was instructed not to move, which was fine with him since his bandaged foot still ached from being shot. He heard their footfalls as they hurried away, and then a car accelerating quickly, horns blasting in protest. Lipton sat there for a good five minutes, listening to the night noise of cars zooming by and people engaged in conversation. He also heard a few giggles as foot traffic crossed in front of him. Taking a chance, he removed his blindfold, grateful he was still alive, his captors nowhere in sight. He had to find a phone so he could call his father and warn him.
