‘Beth and I will go after Habib Nassour,’ Meghan declared over chai. The charity’s office was nothing like their New York one, but it had a well-stocked kitchen and a large selection of Persian teas. Bear and Chloe had brewed the drink for the team after returning from their surveillance at the Supreme Leader’s office. The beverage signaled the start of the meeting.
The older twin had summed up their day. ‘We didn’t achieve much,’ she grimaced, ‘except find that Mostofi’s not approachable. Not without exposing ourselves to risk. We’ll have to split up and follow these men.’
‘Well,’ Roger drawled, ‘it wasn’t a complete wipe-out. Zeb got punched. That was something to see.’
‘We need to tap their phones,’ Beth took over when the chuckles died out, ‘and bug their laptops. That’s the only way we’ll find out Mostofi’s movements.’
‘All of them,’ Meghan flicked through the men’s profiles on her screen, ‘have residences in Tehran. Close to the Supreme Leader’s office. In fact, it’s Mostofi who’s furthest away from that residence.’
‘We know why?’ Broker asked.
‘Nope. Those residences are confirmed. CIA’s got enough sightings of them at those locations. Mostofi prefers to stay there, but as we know, he also moves locations regularly. He’s known to stay in hotels too.’
‘He’s not a target for now.’ Roger dismissed the Quds boss. ‘His aides, they don’t have a similar pattern?’
‘No. Each of them has a security detail, however and we should expect their houses to be well-protected. Eight of us. Four teams of two. We’ve got enough disguises and covers that we can cycle through. Our legends as charity workers, we shouldn’t use them at all. That’s only when we are office based and for our exfil.’
Zeb picked out a photograph randomly and held it up. ‘Miri. Broker and I will go after him.’
‘We’ll take Vahdat,’ Bwana squinted at the aide’s photograph. ‘He’s skinny. Doesn’t look threatening.’
‘Babak Vahdat has killed eighteen people during his time in Quds,’ Beth corrected his impression. ‘Eight of those were civilians, men as well as women, protesters who had taken part in a demonstration against the IRGC. He shot them in cold blood in front of hundreds of onlookers. Make no mistake, none of these men are innocents. They are savage, ruthless killers.’
That’s why they became Quds officers and Mostofi’s aides. They are similar to him, Zeb thought as he glanced at Jehangir Miri’s image and memorized it.
They broke up for the day since it was too late to shadow their targets. They could be anywhere.
Zeb turned on a local news channel on TV and was watching idly when Meghan joined him.
‘We can’t be in Iran forever,’ she said. ‘Someone will spot us, make us and Mostofi will know.’
‘He likes publicity,’ Zeb said. ‘He’s bound to make a speech in the coming weeks. All we need to know is where.’
‘Another Javelin attack?’
‘That will be hard to set up. It was easy to organize at Shahriar since those outer roads are not patrolled. However, here,’ he gestured at the city center, ‘it’s different. Cops, soldiers, IRGC, Quds men, they’ll be everywhere.’
‘You’re not making it sound easy,’ she complained.
‘If it was, would we be here?’
Her ponytail bobbed as she nodded her head, took the remote from his hand and upped the volume on the TV.
Mostofi was on screen, being interviewed early in the morning.
‘America should know,’ he said gravely, ‘that the Iranian people can be pushed only so much. We won’t take any more. The sanctions, killing my predecessor…if I was a citizen of that country, I wouldn’t sleep easy. I would be worried about when Iran would retaliate. And how.’
That’s new. He’s rarely that direct. Zeb watched for a few minutes and then a thought struck him.
‘I’ll get on it,’ Meghan seemed to read his thoughts. ‘I’ll get Werner to see how long he’s been spouting that rhetoric.’
Zeb nodded gravely.
If it’s recent, then he’s building up to something. An attack?