Habib Nassour sank heavily into a chair when Mostofi’s words registered on him.
He clutched Carter’s photograph and brought it closer to his eyes. ‘But, agha, you confirmed those women’s identities yourself. That they were Mossad.’
‘My source is compromised. It’s clear to me now,’ the Quds leader hissed. ‘I was fed false information all along. I should have suspected. We achieved nothing significant against Israel despite all that intel.’
‘Those people,’ Nassour nodded at the photographs, ‘look nothing like—’
‘Do I need to tell you how covert operations work?’ the commander screeched at him. ‘You’ve gone in enough yourself. He was in a disguise at Grand Bazaar and at Fereydoun. We don’t have many pictures of him and his team. Those are the best. Here.’ He leaned forward and jabbed his forefinger on one glossy. ‘That’s Meghan Petersen. She’s the one who kicked. The other one is Beth, her twin. This man,’ he picked up another photograph, ‘that’s Bwana. He’s got a second name, but no one calls him by that. This older man is Broker. Don’t ask me why he’s called that. Americans have funny names. This large one is Bear. His partner is Chloe. Rumored to be a couple. And this tall man is Roger. HOW DID THEY GET INTO THE COUNTRY?’ he screamed, his rage getting the better of him.
The door flew open and a flunky poked his head through. He disappeared when Mostofi threw a paperweight at him which shattered against the wall showering the floor with glass fragments.
The Quds boss breathed heavily as his fingers clenched and unclenched, his face working. He snatched the glass of water that Nassour offered, gulped it down and wiped his mouth carelessly.
‘They speak Persian fluently,’ he cursed. ‘They look like they were born in the Middle East, all of them except Bwana. No one, absolutely no other Western agent is able to penetrate our country and live like locals. No one but them!’ He flung the photographs in the air and watched balefully as Nassour got out of the chair and collected them from the floor.
He didn’t say a word when his aide went to the door and returned with the flunky who cleared the destroyed paperweight and left the room.
‘They have come to spy on us,’ his subordinate stated.
‘No,’ Mostofi shook his head. ‘Carter does not do that. CIA, other outfits carry out those activities. That cursed Agency he works in takes on only high-risk assignments. Like taking out terrorists or dictators or going after stolen nuclear and chemical weapons. He’s like a heat-seeking missile. Once launched, you’d better pray.’
‘You sound like you admire him, agha.’
‘I HATE HIS GUTS!’ Mostofi yelled. ‘He’s here for one reason only. He’s after me.’
He fell back in his chair and brooded for several moments.
‘We should call off the attacks, agha.’
‘WE WILL DO NO SUCH THING,’ he raged. He gathered himself and waved a hand in apology. His voice was calmer when he spoke. ‘I have thought about it. Carter does not know anything about what we are planning. If he did, he would have already got a missile to take out the university. Their State Department would have exposed our oil infrastructure. No. He wants me. That’s why those women were trying to get close to you. They were probably thinking of kidnapping you to get to me.’
‘I will increase your security—’
‘You will do no such thing. We will carry on as if he doesn’t exist. Nothing changes.’
‘But, agha—’
‘But nothing. Carter hasn’t achieved anything. We checked your phone, your laptop, nothing. I ordered a security sweep of our systems and we are clean. Golzar—’
‘He’s gone back to his base.’
‘Get him here. Keep him with you. Tighten your security around yourself. We need to plan for his departure. As for Carter,’ he smiled unpleasantly. ‘Circulate those photographs to our soldiers. The American came to Tehran thinking he could take me out. He won’t get me.’
His eyes glowed as Nassour gathered the photographs and prepared to leave.
‘Turn Tehran into a prison, Habib,’ he ordered. ‘Carter is going to find out just how hospitable our country is.’