‘Noori, Poozesh and Sayyadi are on board,’ Mostofi briefed his men. ‘They always were, but I met them yesterday and got their confirmation.’
‘How many know of this, agha?’ Vahdat queried.
‘’Eight. The five of us in this room and the three ministers.’
‘What about the Supreme Leader?’
‘You are correct. Him too, but I don’t count him usually since he does not know the operational details. That reminds me. Who’s coming with me to Kharg?’
Nassour went to Mostofi’s desk, pulled open a drawer and brought out a bunch of drinking straws. He separated four of them and came back to the men. He asked his coworkers to select one, rolled all of them in his palm and presented the tips to their boss.
Mostofi pulled out one. ‘Your bad luck, Habib. You’ll be going with me.’
‘I think it’s an unnecessary risk, agha,’ Miri said. ‘You should not be going anywhere near the oil fields or the pumping terminals. Mossad, CIA, they always have eyes on us. They’ll wonder why you are there.’
Mostofi made a face. ‘I know, but the Supreme Leader insists that I go and inspect the facilities. Confirm for myself that we have the pumping capability. That’s a crucial part of our plan.’
‘One of us can go and inspect.’
‘No. You know our leader has his own spy network. He’ll know. I have to be there myself. Nassour, make the arrangements. Check my calendar and work out something. Now,’ he said authoritatively to get their attention. ‘What about the four men?’
‘You’ll get Reza Jehangir’s file tomorrow,’ Salar Tehari replied promptly. ‘He’s my man.’
‘You’ll get mine tomorrow, too, agha,’ Nassour said.
Mostofi nodded when Vahdat and Miri gave the same timeline. ‘Your four men, do they know each other?’
‘My man and Salar’s,’ Nassour replied, ‘trained at Imam Ali Garrison. They will know each other. In fact, they were in Syria at the same time.’
‘On the same mission?’ the Quds boss asked sharply.
‘No, agha,’ Tehari assured him. ‘Same time, same country, but different operations.’
‘My man is from Lowshan,’ Vahdat said.
‘And mine is from Chamran.’ Miri added.
‘None of them—’
‘No, agha,’ Nassour guessed where his boss was going. ‘None of them have been at Shahriar.’
Mostofi nodded in approval. That garrison was compromised after Mossad’s attack. He would have to figure out what he would do with it. But that was a problem for a different day.
‘What about your investigation in Shahriar, Habib?’ he eyed his aide. ‘I haven’t forgotten. I need to know who the Mossad agents were, how they got in, how they got away, who helped them. I need to know everything.’
‘I have some good news on that front,’ Nassour replied. ‘You know all the comms and cameras were down. But there was a truck driver who spotted one of the missiles fired from Shahidan Inanlu. He caught it on his cell phone and drove away when he worked out it was an attack.’
‘Has he sent you his video?’
‘No, agha. But I am meeting him soon. I will get it then. If we are lucky, it might show the attackers.’
‘Clear your calendars for tomorrow. We’re going to MUT. Now, leave.’ Mostofi ordered.
He glanced at his watch.
There was enough time to torture one of the prisoners in the nearest garrison before he met with the Supreme Leader for their daily briefing.