Now the priest leaned forward and spoke with great passion. “It’s time for the church to stand up with courage and conviction and say in the power of the Holy Spirit, ‘Islam is not the answer; jihad is not the way. Jesus is the way. Jesus is the truth. Jesus is the life. And no man or woman can come to the Father except through faith in Jesus Christ.’ This is the message of John 14:6. This is the message of the entire New Testament. And this message of faith is filled with love, not with swords.”
It was as if electricity were coursing through Najjar’s system. He was no longer slumped in his chair. He was sitting up straight, at once furious at this man, wanting to throw his shoe at the television, yet simultaneously intrigued beyond anything he could imagine. How could the government allow such things to be on television? Wasn’t anyone trying to stop this man? Mesmerized, Najjar kept watching.
“Now is not the time to hide in fear from the Muslim world,” the priest declared. “Now is the time to take the gospel of Jesus Christ to every man, woman, and child on the planet and proclaim Him as the hope of mankind, the only hope for the troubled world. I have been doing this for most of my life, sharing the good news of salvation through Jesus Christ with the people of the Middle East. For this I was exiled from my home country of Egypt. For this I have been named ‘Islam’s public enemy number one.’ For this there is now a price on my head. But I love Jesus more than my life. And because Jesus loves Muslims, because He came and laid down His life to save them, I love them too. And I am willing to lay my life down if necessary to reach them for my beloved Jesus.”
Najjar had never heard anyone talk like this.
“The God of the Bible is moving powerfully in the Muslim world today,” the priest continued. “He is drawing Muslims out of Islam to faith in Jesus Christ in record numbers. Yes, there is much bad news in the Muslim world today. But there is also much good news; more Muslims have come to faith in Jesus Christ in the last three decades than in the last fourteen centuries of Islam put together. This is the greatness of our great God.”
Was that true? Najjar wondered. Were Muslims really leaving Islam and becoming followers of Jesus Christ? Was it happening in large numbers? He was suddenly afraid to watch anymore. He turned off the television, turned off the lights, and climbed into bed, trembling. He was grateful Sheyda wasn’t home. He was ashamed of what he had just watched. What if someone had heard him? He should be more careful, he told himself.
Yet alone in the darkness, he couldn’t shake what he had just seen and heard, and one phrase echoed in his heart again and again.
“Jesus is the way. Jesus is the truth. Jesus is the life. And no man or woman can come to the Father except through faith in Jesus Christ.”
54
Tehran, Iran
Rashidi’s mobile phone rang.
He excused himself and left the room. Then Esfahani leaned close to David and whispered, “What I say next needs to be kept very quiet. Are we understood? It must never be spoken of to anyone.”
“Of course,” David said.
“We need to buy twenty secure satellite phones,” Esfahani explained. “State-of-the-art. Encrypted. Absolutely impenetrable. You make them, right?”
“Well, we don’t make them ourselves,” David replied. “Nokia has a joint venture with someone who does. But they’re built for European government officials. They’re not for export.”
“The Saudis have them.”
“That I wouldn’t know.”
“The Pakistanis have them.”
“Again, that’s not my area.”
“The Moroccans have them. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“I think so.”
“Then can you get them for us?”
“I can ask Ms. Fischer.”
“No,” Esfahani said, “that’s not what I asked. I’m asking you—you personally—can you get them for us?”
“I don’t know. Ms. Fischer is the real expert on such things, sir, but I don’t think even she could get an export license for them, given all the international focus on . . . well, you know . . . the situation here. I don’t know how I would get the licenses, much less the phones.”
Esfahani said nothing. There was a long, awkward pause. It was quiet. Too quiet. All David could hear was a clock ticking in the living room and the faint sound of rattling dishes in the kitchen.
“I can try,” David finally said.
“Without involving Ms. Fischer?” Esfahani pressed.
David pretended to ponder that a while longer. He knew he could get the phones in a heartbeat. Zalinsky would happily build them by hand if he thought that would help the mission. But David knew he couldn’t seem too eager or too accommodating.
He looked back at Esfahani and assured the man he would do his best, and without Fischer’s involvement. It was a lie, of course. Fischer would be intimately involved. But it was what the man wanted to hear, and it seemed to work.
“Good, because you know there are more telecom infrastructure contracts coming in the next few months,” Esfahani reminded him. “Each one is worth hundreds of millions of euros, and Mr. Rashidi and I would certainly want to look favorably on your bids.”
“That’s what I want too,” David said. “MDS values your business a great deal.”
“Very well. How soon could you get them?”
“How soon do you need them?”
“Five business days.”
“Five? That’s pretty fast.”
“Perhaps we should go to the Chinese.”
“No, no, I’ll figure out a way,” David promised, suddenly fearful that he was playing too coy. “You need twenty of them?”
“Yes.”
“Done,” David said. “After all, we can’t let the Saudis or the Zionists have something you don’t have. I’ll get right on it.”
“See that you do,” Esfahani said. “I can assure you, success will be handsomely rewarded.”
“It will be my honor to bless Iran in every way I can,” David said. “Which reminds me. I need to call Dubai and tell our tech teams to get here tomorrow. Will your staff be able to pick them up at the airport, orient them, and show them where to get started? I’ll need to head back to Munich to fulfill this other request.”
“Yes, we will take care of everything,” Esfahani assured him. “Just tell my secretary who is coming and when.”
“I will do that, but could I just ask a question?”
“What is it?”
“If it’s inappropriate, please forgive me.”
“You needn’t hesitate. What’s your question?”
“Well, I’m just curious. Why such urgency?”
The moment the words left David’s lips, Rashidi reentered the room. David sensed he had finished his phone call some time before and had been listening to most of the conversation, presumably approving of its direction.
“That one I would like to answer,” the CEO said. “Mr. Tabrizi, have you ever heard of the Twelfth Imam?”
55
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
David landed at 11:40 a.m. and was greeted by Eva.
He was surprised by how happy she was to see him. She was professional, to be sure, but her smile was warm and she seemed genuinely relieved that he was out of Iran for the time being, safe and sound.
“So how’d it go?” she asked as they headed out of the parking garage.
“Better than I’d expected,” he said. “Is the tech team all set?”
“Absolutely. They’re booked on the first flight, tomorrow morning at six.”
“Good. Where are they now?”
“They’re all waiting for you at the office, as you requested.”
“Thanks,” David said. “Were you able to book me a room at Le Méridien?”
“I did.” Eva smirked a little. “Even got you an upgraded suite.”
“Wow, thanks. But that wasn’t necessary.”
“What are friends for?” she asked.
David laughed,
getting it now. “Jack told you to make me look like a wealthy businessman.”
“He did indeed.”
David’s briefing lasted about an hour.
The irony was that while each of the members of the technical team worked for the CIA, none of them individually knew that the others did. Nor did they know that David was a NOC as well. Each of them had been hired as an independent contractor by Eva, and compartmentalization was the name of the game. The less they knew about the overall operation, and about each other, the better.
When they finished a lightning round of Q&A, Eva dismissed the team. Then, when the coast was clear, she led David out of the conference room and down several hallways to a small, quiet, private office in the back of the MDS regional headquarters. They slipped in quickly and closed the door behind them, and there they found Jack Zalinsky waiting for them.
“You survived,” he said upon laying eyes on his protégé.
“Better than that,” David replied. “I bear gifts from afar.”
“That’s my boy,” Zalinsky said, slapping him on the back and actually smiling for the first time in David couldn’t remember how long.
“Let me guess,” Eva began as they took their seats. “You need twenty secure satellite phones.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Well, mein freund, you may have been loafing around in your hotel room, watching TV, and going to prayer five times a day,” Eva teased, “but your phone has been working hard, and it’s been a gold mine.”
She explained the middle-of-the-night call from some senior Iranian official—yet unidentified—to Esfahani, requesting the satellite phones. What’s more, she assured him that all twenty would be ready for him to pick up in Munich in seventy-two hours. She also gave him a file with the transcripts of every call the NSA had intercepted thus far based on the new contacts he had entered into his phone.
Thanking them, David quickly shifted gears. “You guys have heard of the Twelfth Imam, right?” he asked.
“Of course,” Eva said. “I sent you that article about the cult leader in Yemen who says he’s preparing the way for him to return.”
“Exactly,” David said.
“You’re talking about the so-called Islamic messiah?” Zalinsky asked. “The one who is supposed to bring about the end of the world, that kind of thing?”
“Right.”
“What about him?”
“He may actually be on the ground, in Iran.”
There was dead silence for a moment.
“Come on,” Zalinsky said, “it’s a fanatic’s fantasy, a myth.”
“Jack, it’s not about what you and I are willing to believe,” David countered. “It’s about what the Iranian leaders believe, and I’m telling you, they think he’s here—some of them, anyway.”
“So what?” Zalinsky said. “That has nothing to do with our mission.”
“Actually, it does.”
“How so?”
“Everywhere I go, people are talking about him,” David said. “He’s popping up in news stories. Religious experts are having conferences about him. And I’m hearing all kinds of rumors that he is alive and well and appearing to people.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Zalinsky said. “It’s a bunch of religious superstition. Don’t get sidetracked.”
“No, no, you’re wrong, Jack,” David insisted. “Listen to me. Two nights ago, a mysterious cleric shows up at the home of a little girl who has been mute from birth. He knocks on the door and asks if he can pray a blessing on the home. He seems harmless enough, so the parents say yes. Then he asks if he can see their little girl and pray for her. They ask him how he knows they even have a little girl. Now get this—the stranger says Allah has sent him to their house to heal their child. At this point, the father thinks the man is a little, you know, out there. But just then, the little girl walks into the room. The man prays for her; she falls down and goes into convulsions. Her parents freak out. But a moment later the little girl gets up and begins to speak for the first time in her life.”
“So who was the man?” Eva asked.
“Well, that’s just it; no one’s ever seen him before,” David said. “They have no idea where he’s from or who he is, and in the commotion of the little girl’s healing, the man simply vanishes. But the girl is convinced it was the Twelfth Imam. The parents are too. They’re telling everyone what happened, and the story was on the front page of all the newspapers in Tehran this morning.”
“That’s crazy,” Zalinsky said.
“Maybe, but that’s not all,” David said. “I’m told that recently, Ayatollah Hosseini was up at some mountain retreat center of his called the Qaleh.”
“The Qaleh?” Eva asked, looking at Zalinsky.
“That’s right,” David said. “Why?”
“Nothing; go on,” she said.
“Well, apparently, Hosseini is praying when he suddenly sees a bright light and hears a voice speaking to him. The voice tells him that the Mahdi is going to be revealed soon and that Hosseini and his advisors are supposed to ‘get ready and be prepared’ for his arrival. Hosseini is telling people close to him that it was the Twelfth Imam who spoke to him. Rumors like these are spreading like wildfire throughout Tehran. People are saying that the Mahdi has come and that he’s about to reveal himself to the Islamic world—and all of humanity—and usher in the end of days.”
“You picked all this up on the street?” Zalinsky asked.
“Everyone’s talking about it. Even Rashidi,” David said.
“When?”
“Last night at his apartment.”
“Daryush Rashidi?” Zalinsky clarified. “The president of Iran Telecom talked to you about the Twelfth Imam?”
“Weird, I know. Turns out he’s a closet Twelver. Apparently his parents were really into Shia Islamic End Times prophecy when he was a kid, but they swore him to secrecy.”
“Of course they did. These people are lunatics. They’re nuts. Khomeini actually banned them in 1983 because he thought they were so dangerous.”
“Well, Jack, they’re running the country now. That’s my point.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Zalinsky said. “Hosseini doesn’t really believe all that. Neither does President Darazi. They just use it to rile up the masses.”
“I’m just telling you what I saw and heard. And I can guarantee you, Rashidi and Esfahani are true believers. They believe the Twelfth Imam is here. Rashidi told me he spoke personally to someone who was with Hosseini moments after the vision. They all think it’s real. You should have seen them, Jack. That’s why they want twenty secure satphones immediately. Someone from Hosseini’s office asked for them. But they’re not for Hosseini. They’re for people around the Twelfth Imam, and Rashidi said they’re eventually going to need 293 more.”
“Why do they need 293 satphones?” Eva asked.
“No, 293 more,” David corrected. “They need a total of 313. Apparently, it’s part of some Shia prophecy that the Twelfth Imam will have 313 followers.”
“How soon do they want the rest of the phones?” Zalinsky asked.
“Rashidi offered me a 200,000-euro bonus, wired to any account I want, if I can get them to him by the end of the month.”
“That’s like, what, a quarter of a million dollars?” Eva asked, incredulous.
“I know—it’s crazy. But that’s what I’m trying to tell you guys. These people are very serious and very excited.”
“Why are they telling you this much this fast?” Zalinsky asked.
“Because they’re also desperate,” David said. “They see events are moving fast now, and they’re scrambling to keep up.”
“No, no, I realize they’re all nuts; I accept that,” Zalinsky said. “But why you? Why are they taking you into their confidence so quickly?”
David thought about that for a moment. “Well, for starters, they think I’m one of them,” he replied. “They’re buying the cover story. They genuinely believe I want
to bless my homeland as well as make a buck. They’ve been watching me go to the mosque five times a day. They saw me throw Eva out of the country. They think I’m sincere, earnest.”
“That can’t be all of it,” Zalinsky said.
“No, it’s not,” David agreed. “I think there’s another dynamic at work here.”
“What?”
“I think they’re trying to convert me.”
“From what to what?”
“From a regular Shia Muslim to a Twelver.”
“Why?”
“Why else?” David said. “Because that’s what they are. They genuinely believe the messiah has come. The end is here. And they want me to be a part of it. Plus, honestly, they need a bunch of satellite phones, and they think I just might be young enough and dumb enough and well-connected enough to get them. I think it’s that simple.”
“This is ridiculous,” Zalinsky said, standing up and going over to the window. “This whole ‘Twelfth Imam’ thing is a rabbit trail. It’s a distraction. We’ve known about it for years, and it’s just a bunch of religious dreaming. Your job is to help us identify nuclear sites so our teams can go in and sabotage them. That’s it. We don’t have time for you to do anything else.”
“With all due respect, sir, I think you’re missing the point,” David said. “This is the fastest way in. If I ask them questions about nukes, they’re going to be suspicious. Wouldn’t you be? But I’m telling you, I can ask them a million questions about the Mahdi and they’ll answer every one of them. Why? Because that’s what they’re interested in. That’s what Ayatollah Hosseini is focused on. That’s what President Darazi is focused on. That’s what Rashidi is focused on. Shouldn’t we be focused on it too?”
Zalinsky turned to Eva. “What do you think?”
“Honestly, Jack, I think David is onto something.”
“How so?”
“Look, I can’t say I know much about Shia eschatology. Nor can I find anyone at Langley who does either, and believe me, I’ve tried. But I’ve been tracking the press and blog coverage of this big conference held in Tehran last week on Mahdism. Two thousand people showed up. They had a dozen top Islamic scholars there talking about the imminence of the Twelfth Imam’s return. The keynote address was given by none other than President Darazi, who stated categorically that the Mahdi will appear this year and that his authenticity will be confirmed by the voice of the angel Gabriel, who will appear in the sky over the Mahdi’s head and call the faithful to gather around him. That’s not normal political discourse, Jack. This is a regime that believes the messiah is coming and is basing its actions on that belief. We can’t counter Iran effectively if we don’t know why its leaders are doing what they’re doing.”
The Twelfth Imam Page 24