MOSSAD SAFE HOUSE, ASTARA, AZERBAIJAN—10:20 / 10:20 A.M. AST
The fourth number on the digital wall clock switched from 0 to 1. Nir leaned his head back and tried to keep his emotions inside, but he was unsuccessful.
“It’s been two hours—no, over two hours since she was arrested,” he yelled into the room as he launched from his folding chair. “Do we know where Nicole is? Do we have a plan? What are we doing?”
The room was still as all eyes were on him.
A voice cut through the silence. “Tavor!” Tzadik said, his hand covering the mouthpiece of his phone. “Sit down and shut up. You’re not helping.”
“Of course I’m not helping! You won’t let me help. My team is ready to mount up. A Yanshuf can get us there in two hours.”
Tzadik said something into his phone, then turned his attention back to Nir. “So you can do what? Start a ground war with Iran? Cool it, cowboy, and wait for me. Five minutes, then I’ll fill you in.”
Tzadik turned away and began talking on his phone again. Nir stared at his back for a few moments, then dropped onto the same metal chair. He wasn’t used to feeling helpless. A man of action from as far back as he could remember, he’d learned to follow his impulses.
But sometimes following your impulses doesn’t work out so well, he thought as he touched the long, faint scar by his left eye. It had come in a bar fight, courtesy of a member of the Fulger Battalion, a division of the Moldovan Special Forces. At least he bought me a round when it was all over.
But typically, his instincts were spot-on. That’s what made him dangerous. That’s what kept him and the teams he led safe. In this situation, though, he wondered whether he could trust himself. Maybe Tzadik was exactly right, saying he was acting like a cowboy. Still, it took everything he had to not put himself, his career, and even his men at risk by rotating up a helicopter and crossing the border.
“She really does mean something to you.”
Nir turned to his left and saw Elnur Isayev. “The woman, Nicole le Roux. She’s more than just a colleague.”
Nir’s first impulse was to tell this guy to mind his own business, but he realized this might be another time when his own instincts couldn’t be trusted. “Yes, she is.”
The man appeared to think for a moment, then leaned forward, indicating that Nir should do the same. The smell of stale cigarettes was almost unbearable. “I am going to trust you with something, some information that needs to remain between you and me. Okay?”
“I can’t fully give you my word. But if it’s nothing I’m obligated by duty to share with my superiors, then it will remain between us.”
Isayev chuckled. “Right out of the manual. Okay, that is good enough for me. You need to know that we have people already on their way to Marzanabad. If necessary, they will rescue her.”
Nir nearly reacted to this news, but the thought that Tzadik could be watching him held him still. “He doesn’t know this?” he asked, nodding toward his superior.
“He does not. We assist your Mossad, but we are our own people, and we will act according to what we think is right.”
Nir was both happy and concerned. “Why are you telling me this? Why would you think I wouldn’t go to Tzadik with this information?”
“Because I believe the safety of your woman is more important to you than following protocol. From what I can tell, a lot of things are more important to you than following protocol. That is why I trust you to do the right thing.”
Nir smiled. “That’s probably true. But why would your people do this? It’s such high risk.”
“Let me put it this way. If a gang of ruffians kept coming into your village, attacking the residents and destroying their property, you would try to stop them. But what if there were too many of them?”
“You would eat the elephant one bite at a time.”
“Precisely. Every opportunity that presented itself, you would pick away at them. Shoot one man when he is off tending his horse. Gut another man when he is in the bushes relieving himself. Eventually, you would either kill them all or make life so miserable for them that they would leave on their own. Do you know how many who live in Iran are actually Persian?”
“I don’t,” Nir answered, thankful for the distraction.
“Less than two-thirds. So one in every three people in this country is a minority, and we are very much treated as minorities. Kurds, Baloch, Turkmen, Lurs, Arabs—this nation is filled with us. We Azeris are the largest of the minority groups with around sixteen percent of the population. And while we have no fight with most of the Persian people, who are good and decent, we passionately hate this evil regime running the country. Their Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps are the ruffians who regularly attack our villages. While we would like nothing more than to kill the snake by cutting off its head, the ayatollahs are beyond our reach. So we will settle for shooting the man by the horses and gutting the man in the bushes.”
Nir nodded, understanding the man’s motivation. “So this is less about Nicole than about taking a shot at the regime.”
“Certainly. But we would also enjoy the opportunity to rescue a damsel in distress,” Isayev said with a wink.
Nir had been unsure about this man, but now he was seeing him in a different light. “Thank you. When you get the chance, please thank your people for me. However, for now, please make sure they stand down. I am the last person who should be saying this, but an armed assault is a last resort.”
Isayev laughed. “The viper tells the dog not to bite. Don’t worry, my friend. They are only gathering in case all the phone calls fail.”
“Speaking of…” Nir said, nodding toward Tzadik. He was coming their way.
“Glad to see you’re making friends, Tavor.”
“Just arranging for karaoke tonight when this is all done. You in?”
“You bet. I do a mean Vegas Elvis.”
Nir smiled. “Yeah, I want to get that picture out of my mind.”
“Walk with me,” Tzadik said. When they reached an isolated corner of the room, he spoke in a low tone. “Listen, I know this has been tough for you. Normally, I’d be telling you to go join your men in the other room and sit on your thumbs. But since I know you’ve got a little more invested in this, I’m going to read you in.”
“I appreciate that, Ha’mefaked.”
“But I’m not looking for approval or criticism. This is the plan, and this little meeting here is informational only. Understood?”
“Yes, Ha’mefaked.”
“We’ve got a chain of conversation going that will hopefully lead to the dirties releasing Nicole.” Tzadik held up his phone as if to emphasize his point, then shoved it into his pocket. “I’ve talked directly to the ramsad, so this is being dealt with all the way at the top of the Mossad. He’s contacting a deputy director of Italy’s intelligence agency, AISE, who owes him a favor. He’ll ask him to reach out to someone he trusts in one of the Milan fashion houses. The plan is for that person to contact Italy’s state department to tell them they employ a South African model who has been arrested by the Iranian authorities.”
“Why doesn’t the Italian intelligence guy contact the state department directly?”
“We’re trying to protect Nicole’s cover for future operations. Think about it. If the AISE asks the state department for help directly, Nicole will be flagged in Italy and most other countries for the rest of her life.”
Nir wasn’t so sure Nicole’s washing out of the Mossad would be such a bad thing, but he said, “Makes sense.”
“Protocol dictates that Italy’s state will contact South Africa’s state to tell them one of their citizens is being unjustly held in Iran and has been assaulted. South Africa and Iran have a very good relationship, and the Tehran regime won’t want to risk that. We’re hoping South Africa’s state department will be able to leverage that to get Nicole out.”
Nir’s head was swimming. “That’s a lot of steps, and every minute Nicole is in their custody puts her more at risk. Where are we in the process?”
“Bogged down in Italy’s state department. It’s only 7:30 a.m., and no one is taking calls until eight.”
Incredulous, Nir took a step back. “You have got to be joking. Don’t we have someone who can go wake somebody up?”
“Quiet, Tavor.” Tzadik continued in a hushed voice. “This is informational, remember? We’re working on it. I’ll keep you up-to-date as more happens.”
“Understood, Ha’mefaked. Thank you.”
The commander nodded, then slipped his phone back out of his pocket as he moved on.
Nir returned to his chair, sitting down and lacing his fingers behind his head. It seemed like such a long shot, but right now it appeared to be the only shot they had—at least before Isayev’s people would have to step in.
From across the room, Tzadik yelled into his phone, “Well, don’t we have someone who can go wake somebody up?”
Go get them, boss, Nir thought as he stood to check the current status of the coffeepot.