21

It was Beth and Meghan who got the break.

The Agency operatives had hung around outside the Presidential Office, but had no luck in getting closer to Mostofi’s aides.

Except for the twins.

‘He isn’t heading to his house,’ Meghan frowned as she followed Habib Nassour’s protection vehicle. The aide’s ride was ahead of it, sunlight flashing off its roof as it snaked through traffic.

Golestan Palace flashed past them, one of the oldest monuments in the city.

‘Where…’ she bit her lip and then shouted, ‘Grand Bazaar. He’s turning into Sabze Meydan, its main entrance.’

‘We’ll provide backup,’ Zeb replied in her earpiece.

‘Stay well back,’ she ordered and checked her mirrors as the entry to the parking lot approached. Far ahead, she could see Nassour’s vehicles’ brake lights glow as they turned into spaces.

She drove past them, eyes straight ahead, Beth absorbing herself in her phone. Went up the next level, parked and raced to the stairs. They bounded down and when they reached ground level, Nassour was there, exiting from the elevator, resplendent in his military uniform.

She caught Beth’s arm and held her back as they followed the Quds officer. He walked arrogantly in the market, pausing every now and then at stores, fingering fabrics, scarves and various trinkets. His protection detail, two armed men, in their official dress, followed him, their presence prompting other shoppers keep their distance.

They know who he is. Quds. Many of them fear him. It showed in the way patrons shied away from the presence of the men, stopped abruptly and turned their heads away.

Meghan smiled at a storeowner as she waited for Beth to finish browsing through a store.

‘We have eyes on you.’ Chloe, in their earpieces. Meghan bobbed her head in acknowledgment and sighed wearily when her sister bought a scarf and draped it over her neck.

‘What?’ Beth argued, ‘we are here. We might as well shop.’

Can’t argue with that. Meghan looked around casually and spotted Nassour in the distance. He was holding jewelry in his hand, examining it in the store’s light, negotiating with the shopkeeper.

‘It must be for his wife,’ she said aloud.

‘His family’s not in Tehran,’ Roger objected.

‘They must have some courier service,’ Bear said.

Meghan tuned them out, dragged her sister away from another store front and followed the Quds man as he pocketed the jewelry and strolled ahead.

It was one of the bodyguards who gave them the opening.