The Twelfth Imam (21 page)

46

Tehran, Iran

It was worse than David had feared.

Hundreds of men were praying. Thousands more were milling about on the grounds of the mosque, talking softly, conducting business, trading gossip.

“Assalam Allaikum”
—
peace be upon you
—he repeated again and again as he worked his way through the crowds, systematically ruling out small groups of individuals and intensifying his prayers that Allah would help him find this needle in the haystack. The good news was that no one seemed particularly interested in the fact that he was there. Nor did anyone seem to care or even sense that he had never been there before. The sheer number of people on the site provided him a measure of anonymity that helped him move about without drawing attention. But that wouldn’t last for long, he knew. Plainclothes agents would be there any moment, watching his every move.

He decided to shift gears. Rather than moving deeper into the mosque, he would withdraw and hide in plain sight. He would wait out front, where the secret police could see him and breathe easier as a result, and where he was least likely to miss Esfahani when he emerged from prayer.

Finding a bench in the courtyard, he sat down, pulled out his phone, and began reviewing his e-mails and scanning headlines on the Internet like any harried European businessman would do. Several headlines caught his attention.

Oil Hits Record Highs on War Fears in Mideast

Pentagon Moves Patriot Missile Batteries into Gulf States to Protect Oil Facilities from Possible Iranian Strike

Iranian Cleric Wants Creation of “Greater Iran”

The last one, an AP story out of Tehran, particularly intrigued him, and he scanned it quickly.

A radical cleric has called for the creation of a “Greater Iran” that would rule over the entire Middle East and Central Asia, in a move that he said would herald the coming of Islam’s expected messiah. Ayatollah Mohammad Bagher Kharrazi said the creation of what he calls an Islamic United States is a central aim of the political party he leads called Hezbollah, or Party of God, and that he hoped to make it a reality if they win the next presidential election.

Scrolling down a bit, another paragraph struck David as curious.

Kharrazi said this Greater Iran would stretch from Afghanistan to Israel, bringing about the destruction of the Jewish State. He also said its formation would be a prelude to the reappearance of the Mahdi, a revered ninth-century saint known as the Hidden Imam, whom Muslims believe will reappear before judgment day to end tyranny and promote justice in the world.

This was the second time in the last several days that David had seen the subject of the Mahdi, or Hidden Imam or Twelfth Imam, come up in a news report. Again he wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he made a mental note to discuss it with Eva the first chance they got.

Moments later, he was relieved to see several plainclothes agents quite obviously, and even a bit clumsily, taking up positions to monitor him. One even came up and asked for the time. David couldn’t resist pointing out that the man was wearing a wristwatch of his own. Embarrassed, the agent slunk off, but the point had been made. The secret police had made it clear they were observing Reza Tabrizi, and Reza Tabrizi, aka David Shirazi, had made it clear he didn’t mind and had nothing to hide. Both sides seemed to relax.

Seemed
, however, was the operative word. Inside, David was a wreck. If he didn’t find Esfahani quickly, the entire operation would be over before it had even begun.

And then a new e-mail arrived in his box. It was a headline forwarded to him by Zalinsky through an AOL account under one of his many aliases. It indicated that Iran’s deputy defense minister had just met at the Kremlin with his Russian counterpart. Moscow was promising to install the S-300 system by summer, just six months away.

This wasn’t good. The S-300 was Russia’s highly advanced surface-to-air missile defense system. The Iranians had paid more than $1 billion for the system several years earlier, but Moscow had repeatedly delayed its delivery and deployment, citing technical challenges.

In truth, David knew, there were no glitches. The system worked perfectly. And once it was set up around all of Iran’s known nuclear research and power facilities, it would be able to protect them from a U.S. or Israeli first strike. But the very introduction of the S-300 into the Iranian theater could accelerate an Israeli preemptive strike by convincing the leaders in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv that if they didn’t hit Iran before the S-300 became operational, their chances of success would suddenly be radically diminished. It was probably why the Israelis had just launched such a massive war game with Greece. Athens, after all, was about twelve hundred kilometers from Tel Aviv, almost the same distance as Tehran was in the opposite direction.

Put simply, the S-300 was a game changer. If this report was accurate and Russia really was planning to install the system by August, then what little time the U.S. had to stop Iran from getting the Bomb and to prevent a horrific regional war had suddenly been cut much shorter.

Just then, David caught the profile of a short, thin, balding man walking quickly out the front door of the mosque. The man was several hundred yards away, but he certainly looked like Abdol Esfahani. David jumped up and made the intercept not far from the front gate of the compound.

“Mr. Esfahani, sir, please—do you have a moment?” David said in perfect Farsi, sans the German accent.

It was clear from his befuddled expression that Esfahani had no idea who David was.

“Please forgive me for intruding on your pious thoughts, sir, but I just finished praying myself, and I looked up and couldn’t believe my good fortune,” David continued. “I was pleading with Allah to give me a second chance to meet you so I could have the opportunity to apologize for the dreadful faux pas my company made this morning. And here you are, a ready answer to my fervent prayers.”

Esfahani looked skeptical. “And you are . . . ?”

“Sir, I am Reza Tabrizi,” David said, putting out his hand to shake Esfahani’s.

Esfahani said nothing and did not return the gesture.

“From MDS.”

That name finally registered. The man darkened. “I have nothing to say to you,” Esfahani said, walking away briskly.

David, however, ran a few steps ahead of the man and cut off his exit.

“Please, Mr. Esfahani, I beg of you. Hear me out. Just for a moment. My company, MDS, we’re very good at what we do. We can do the work you need. We can do it fast. And we’re discreet. We can help you in other ways, whatever you need. That’s why NSN turned to us. But the MDS executives are . . . well . . . how shall I put this? They’re imbeciles when it comes to Iran. They’re Germans. They’re Europeans. They don’t mean any harm, but they don’t understand our beautiful country. They don’t understand Islam. They try to, but they’re simply clueless. But I’m an Iranian. I’m a Muslim. I may not be as pure as others, but I try. So I begged them not to make Ms. Fischer the project manager. I told them it was an insult. I told them I was offended and you would be too. But they didn’t listen. They told me just to shut up and do my job and help Ms. Fischer with anything she needed. I knew it was going to be a disaster. But there was nothing I could do—
then
. Now there is.”

The mea culpa seemed to be working. Groveling had its advantages sometimes. Esfahani was listening.

“How so?” he asked, glancing at his watch.

“Now I can go back to the MDS board and tell them that putting a German woman over this project is going to cost our company fifty million euros and shut down this market to us forever,” David continued. “Now they’ll listen to me, because believe me, Mr. Esfahani, they can’t afford to lose this contract. The global economy is too weak. The telecom market is too soft. Our stock price is down. Our shareholders are edgy. We need your business, sir, and we’ll do everything we can to make this work. And with all due respect, you need us, too.”

“Why is that?” Esfahani asked.

“Because your bosses want this telecom overhaul to be done yesterday. Text traffic is exploding. Less than a decade ago, there were barely four million mobile phones in the entire country. Today, there are over fifty million. You’re trying to handle a hundred million text messages a day. Soon, it will be a billion. Your current software is going to crash unless we help you upgrade fast. You know that. That’s why your boss approved NSN’s deal with us. So please don’t let all that work go down the drain, Mr. Esfahani. We’re all yours. Whatever you need, we’ll do it for you. And you don’t have to work with Ms. Fischer. I’ll send her back to Dubai. Heck, I’ll send her back to Munich, if you’d like. Just, please—
please
—give us another chance. I promise you I’ll be here to make sure MDS does everything you want in a way that honors our faith and our traditions. Please, sir. We want to help. I want to help. I would consider it a great honor to help Iran become the leading power in the region. Our teams are on standby. You give the word, and they can start installing the software tomorrow.”

Esfahani seemed to relax a bit. “You really want this to happen, don’t you, Mr. Tabrizi?” he said, stroking his closely trimmed salt-and-pepper beard.

“You cannot even begin to imagine,” David replied, worried he was laying it on a bit thick but certain he had no other options.

Esfahani looked him over for another moment. “I must say, I am impressed at your humility and tenacity, young man,” he said finally. “Give me a few days. I’ll think about it and get back to you. Does my secretary have your contact information?”

“She does,” David said. “But here’s my card and my personal mobile number in case you need it.”

He pulled out one of the freshly minted MDS business cards Eva had given him on the flight from Dubai. He scribbled his cell number and hotel information on the back and handed it to Esfahani.

“May Allah bless you, sir,” he said as Esfahani walked to the street. “You won’t regret this.”

He watched Esfahani get into a waiting black sedan and drive off. It was only then that he remembered Mina had given him Esfahani’s business card as well. He quickly fished it out of his wallet, entered the contact information into his Nokia, and smiled. But instead of calling Behrouz and heading straight to the hotel, he surprised his handlers by turning around and heading back into the mosque.

Maybe Allah really was listening to his prayers. Maybe David should thank him.

47

Back at the hotel, Eva opened her door wide on the first knock.

“Please tell me you found him,” she asked, the apprehension showing in her eyes.

“I found him.”

“What happened?”

“Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes,” David suggested. “I’ll tell you over tea.”

It wasn’t ideal. He knew they would be tailed. But he also knew full well he couldn’t be seen lingering in front of a woman’s room, much less going in. They couldn’t talk on hotel phones that were certain to be bugged. Somehow, they had to act normal. For the moment, therefore, tea in public in the restaurant next to the lobby would have to suffice.

As he headed back to the elevator, David again pulled out his phone and checked his e-mail. The first was another sent by Zalinsky. It had a link to a story on the Reuters newswire, datelined from Beijing, which described ongoing talks between Iran Telecom’s president, Daryush Rashidi, and the board of China Telecom, mainland China’s third-largest mobile phone service provider. As David scanned the story, he realized Zalinsky was providing a none-too-subtle reminder of just how critical it was to strengthen and deepen the relationship between Munich Digital Systems and Iran Telecom. The Iranians were now fishing in other waters. Should anything with the MDS deal go south, Iran Telecom was actively looking for other options. David winced at the thought of having to brief Zalinsky on the events of the last few hours. They were already hanging by a thread.

Soon he and Eva were sitting across from one another at a small table for two, sipping chai and careful to keep their voices low and professional but not conspiratorial.

“So where are we with Esfahani?” Eva asked.

“It’s not good,” David said. “We made a serious mistake. We both should have known better.”

“Can it be salvaged?”

“Honestly, it’s too soon to say.”

“What do you recommend?”

“We need to cut our losses.”

“Meaning what?”

David chose his words carefully. He liked Eva. He respected her. And he very much needed her help. But she had suddenly become a liability in Iran.

“You have to understand,” he began. “Abdol Esfahani is a very religious man.”

“Meaning he doesn’t think I should be in charge of this project.”

“I’m afraid not.”

“What do
you
think?”

“That’s not my call.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eva said. “Do you think I’m capable of this job?”

“Absolutely. But that’s not the point.”

“What is?”

“An awful lot is riding on this deal, Eva.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Of course you do. So why worry about it? Let’s just do what’s in the best interest of the project and the company, and go from there.”

“You’re saying you want me to go back to Dubai?”

David took a deep breath and another sip of chai. “I think we need to give Esfahani and Iran Telecom exactly what they want.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Eva said, incredulous.

“Look, you and I both know this is neither the time nor the place to challenge fourteen hundred years of culture and religion over a software upgrade.”

Eva held her tongue for a few moments, but David could see it wasn’t easy. If there hadn’t been at least two Iranian agents sitting at nearby tables, he suspected she really would have unloaded on him.

“If I go back to Dubai, Esfahani will let us keep the contract?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

There was another long pause.

“But if I stay here, he’s guaranteed to cut us loose,” she said.

David nodded.

“Then there’s not much to discuss, is there?” she asked, taking her napkin, wiping her mouth, and getting up from the table.

David leaned toward her and looked her in the eye. “Listen to me,” he said, speaking in character for the benefit of nearby listeners. “You and I are going to make a killing on this deal, okay? Then we’re going to go back to Europe and make boatloads of money there, too. Our bosses are going to love us. They’re going to give us big raises and bonuses. And then we’re going to come up with ways to blow all our money and really live it up. I promise. And just between you and me, I’m really looking forward to working with you every step of the way. So don’t let this throw you, okay? This, too, shall pass.”

Eva’s expression suddenly softened. David even thought he detected a modicum of gratitude in there somewhere.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Okay. I’m going to pack up, check out, and head to the airport.”

“Call me when you get to Dubai.”

“I will. And thank you, Reza. You’re an impressive young man. I hope Mr. Esfahani realizes what’s he got.”

And with that, she was gone.

David stayed, finished his chai, and caught up on a few more e-mails. That hadn’t gone as badly as he’d feared. But only time would tell, for he was fairly confident that the transcript of this conversation would likely be in Esfahani’s hands by the end of the day.