They found accommodation near the Grand Bazaar. A location deliberately chosen for the constant crowd of people in the neighborhood. Every one of them taking separate rooms, some in hotels, others in backpackers’ hostels. Bear and Chloe were the only ones who shared their accommodation, since they were a couple.
Zeb checked his out, on the fifth floor. He had slid the clerk a wad of cash and had secured a room which looked out into the rear parking lot.
He opened the bedroom window and leaned out. The smells of Tehran assailed him. The odors of baghali, fava beans seasoned with vinegar and garlic, a popular street food, wafted through, mingled with a hint of fresh air from the mountains.
He assessed the drainpipe that ran down the side of the hotel. Yeah, he could reach it if he lunged out from the window. That would be his escape route. He would duck through the parking lot once he hit ground, scale its wall and get away.
Satisfied, he closed the window and arranged his spare clothing in the closet. Stuffed the gym bag beneath the extra mattress provided in an upper shelf. There was no other hiding place. He eyed it and shrugged. It would be easily found, but by then, he would have either escaped or been killed.
He went out of the hotel in search of the baghali stand, ordered a plate from the vendor and stood on a street corner, chewing slowly as he ate. Reached for his phone one-handed and sent a text message to Ryker, the CIA agent.
We’ve cleared out. They would meet in restaurants, in hotel lobbies, or in the street, until the mission was over. We’re used to it.
He watched as the city settled for the night. Office goers heading home, women out for some late-night shopping. Buses laden with weary travelers, one of them sporting Mostofi’s face on its side.
He felt her first. Turned his head a fraction to see Meghan come to the food stand and order a plate as well. She took it, paid the server and stood a distance away, tucking into the warm beans. No sign that she knew him.
‘What?’ she asked in his earpiece. ‘I can feel you thinking.’
‘Are we making any difference? We take out Mostofi, someone else will come along and take his place. What will we have achieved?’
‘That’s not like you. What brought that on?’
He threw his empty plate in the rubbish bucket, washed his hands from the water bottle beside it and ordered a chai. ‘Zarhagi’s story. We’ve heard hundreds of similar ones, all around the world. There’s always some country which has a dictator or an oppressive regime. We can’t set the entire world right. That’s not our mission.’
‘You remember what President Morgan told Clare? About us?’
He nodded. ‘We are the only US agency with a conscience. That’s why we’re important.’
‘You’re right. We can’t put away every terrorist, every Mostofi … we aren’t perfect, either. Our country’s got its flaws. But we can’t stop. What we do makes a change, however small. Zarhagi, did you see the shine in his eyes as we were leaving? He was hopeful. That’s what we are about. And taking down badasses as well,’ she finished righteously.
‘What’s got you both riled up?’ Beth approached them.
Zeb turned and looked at her openly. It wasn’t uncommon for Iranian men to eye women on the street. Nothing would be made of his glance.
She’s changed her look. Darker hair, differently styled, features dissimilar to her sister’s.
‘We pass?’ she too ordered a plate and stood several feet away, checking her phone with one hand.
‘Yeah.’
‘What did I interrupt?’
‘Zeb’s getting philosophical,’ Meghan scoffed.
‘A sure sign of age,’ the younger twin chuckled. ‘Sis, you checked Nassour’s phone?’
‘Nope. You did?’
Beth took a moment to answer as she swallowed. ‘Yeah.’
‘And?’
‘Guess what he was up to when we were checking out Chau’s house?’
‘Beth, I’m not up for guessing games.’
Zeb looked up at the sky as he swigged water. They had attacked the Chinese man’s residence just the day before, but it felt like it had been in the distant past.
‘His phone trail … he was back in MUT. Golzar was with him as well.’
Zeb straightened casually. ‘How do you know that? The two men spoke?’
‘No, but there’s an email from Nassour ordering the university to be ready for visitors. He, Golzar and Mostofi.’
High above in the sky, a light, an aircraft, winked as it flew in and out of clouds, carrying its passengers to its destination. The breeze from the mountains increased, making many of the customers around the stand shiver and tighten their jackets around themselves.
Zeb didn’t feel the cold. He stared blankly at the aircraft. He roused himself only when Meghan spoke sharply in his earpiece.
‘Golzar,’ he replied. ‘Nassour asked him if he was ready for a mission.’
‘Yeah,’ Beth agreed. ‘That was one of the first calls we got from our bug.’
‘That’s a suicide mission. There is some kind of research going on at MUT. My guess is chemical weapons of some kind. A virus. Golzar’s the carrier.’