Zeb drove the ambulance furiously, its light flashing, siren wailing, through the streets of the city, away from Marzdaran, cutting a wide circle.
Milad Tower in the distance, rising above them, built as a symbol to the new Tehran after the fall of the Shah. He looped around its park, confirmed in his mirror that the cop car was following.
‘That thing’s safe?’ he asked Bwana, referring to the suicide vest.
‘Yeah. Dummies. None of the grenades are real.’
Zeb swerved in shock, got control and threw a stunned look at his friend.
‘Let me guess,’ Beth chirped in his earpiece. ‘Bwana just told you.’
‘Yeah,’ he glared angrily in the rear mirror and then shook his head in disgust. There was no way she could see his expression. He caught Meghan’s eye, however, who was smirking. ‘Funny,’ he snarled. ‘You didn’t tell me because I wouldn’t permit it.’
‘Correct. Bwana was never in danger.’
‘He was surrounded by Quds soldiers for Chrissakes!’
‘Broker and I would have taken out every soldier if they had shot at him.’
‘He would have died.’
‘Nope. They wanted him alive. That way, they would have a hostage. Besides, he had extra layers of armor on him all the way to his ankles.’
‘That was—’ Zeb began when his friend squeezed his shoulder gently.
‘Hey,’ Bwana said softly. ‘We escaped. We got Radan. That’s what matters.’
‘Good guess on Mostofi.’ Meghan changed the subject. ‘I would never have thought the dude out there was a dupe. He looked identical.’
Zeb took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. Anger clouded thinking. He was furious not because of how Bwana had been armed, but because he had been shut out from that part of the planning. He grinned wryly when Meghan winked at him. Yeah, they know me well.
‘I’ve studied him for a long time,’ he responded. ‘It’s his ego. He doesn’t scratch his face, rub his forehead, do any of what we would do naturally. Those are signs of weaknesses for him. He uses his hands only to express himself when in public.’
‘I wonder what he must be thinking,’ Beth chortled.
Zeb chuckled and laughed when Bear mourned in their earpieces. ‘We didn’t get to do anything.’
‘We got a great view as everything went down,’ Chloe consoled him. ‘Don’t forget, Mrs. and Mr. Borger are still on their vacation. That reminds me, Zeb. IICC. What’s your plan?’
‘The glass dome. That will be our entry point.’
‘How?’
‘Still working on it,’ he replied evasively.
I have an idea, but need to think it through some more.
‘You need us to fly a drone?’ Meg asked him.
‘That will help.’
‘On it. Tomorrow. Nassour … I checked his location. He’s at home. Presumably Golzar is with him as well.’
Zeb nodded. Makes sense. This close to the Second, they won’t risk going anywhere else other than the office.
He kept driving, keeping quiet when the elder twin made a call to Iranian police and warned them about the unexploded car bombs on Marzdaran. She hung up when they asked who she was. She pulled out the SIM card, crushed it and threw it out of the window. The battery followed. She replaced them with new ones and connected to Werner which would cycle the replacement number to the rest of the operatives. Standard Agency tradecraft for burner phones.
He reached Tajrish, a northern neighborhood in the city and turned off the flashing lights and siren. He found a public parking lot and slid into an open space. The cop car came to a stop a distance away. They got out swiftly and split up to find accommodations.
Zeb got a room in a rundown hotel that catered to budget tourists and took cash. First-floor room whose bathroom window opened over an alley. That would be his escape route.
He showered and lay on his bed.
The day’s operation hadn’t been a failure. We’ve cut down the third layer of Quds leadership. Only Golzar remained.
We’ll get him too.