26

IRGC HEADQUARTERS, TEHRAN, IRAN

General Entezam lit a cigarette and picked up his secure phone.

Incensed that the headstrong young leader of Hezbollah hadn’t answered on the first ring, Entezam began cursing under his breath and pacing about his office. When the Sheikh finally picked up on the fifth ring, the commander of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps exploded.

“How dare you?” he shouted into the receiver. “First you order a raid against the Zionists without discussing it with me or the Supreme Leader, much less getting my authorization or his blessing. Then you take hostages without telling us who they are or how many you have. Only after you have sparked an entirely new regional war—one your patrons neither needed nor wanted—you have the gall to call and ask for our counsel. And if all that weren’t egregious enough, you pick the worst possible day. Do you know what today is? Do you have any idea what’s going on here right now?”

Entezam was yelling so loudly he knew that even with the door closed, everyone on his floor could hear him. But he didn’t care. It was time to remind Ja’far ibn al-Hussaini exactly what his place was and what it was not.

“The Supreme Leader is dead,” he continued. “Do you hear me? Do you understand what I am saying to you? Our beloved guide, the leader of our Revolution—your uncle—has just passed away. Today should be a day of mourning. It should be a day of remembrance, a day of honoring the man who accomplished more for the glory of Allah in his lifetime than you and I and all our sons combined ever will.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. The Sheikh was, no doubt, stunned by the news and by the tirade to which he was being subjected. But Entezam continued.

“You have no idea what you have done, Ja’far. I have warned you before, but you refused to listen. Your arrogance has completely blinded you. It has dulled your senses. It has created a recklessness that I will be forced to clean up after. Hezbollah is not now, it has never been, and it will never be an independent actor. Hezbollah is and always will be a wholly owned subsidiary of the Islamic Republic of Iran. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, General, I understand,” came the reply.

“Do you?”

“Yes, I do, and I can guarantee you, General, that—”

“No, no, no—shut it—shut your mouth and listen to me, Ja’far. I don’t want to hear a word from you beyond ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ I want no guarantees from you. I don’t trust anything you say. And I can guarantee you this: if you had pulled such a stunt on any other day, the Supreme Leader and the war council would have authorized me not only to fire you but to put a bullet in your fat skull. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, General.”

“You had better,” Entezam said, no longer shouting, his temper beginning to come back under control. “As it happens, Ja’far, today is not any other day. There is no room for daylight between Tehran and Beirut. There is no benefit to the Islamic Republic to permit the appearance of any disagreement between us. Not today. Which means you have literally dodged a bullet. So listen to me very carefully. And take very precise notes. For this is what’s going to happen next.”

Entezam finished his cigarette and snuffed out the stub in an ashtray. Then, as the Sheikh waited on the other end of the line, the general rummaged through his desk looking for another pack. Finding one, he ripped it open and lit another cigarette. He was now starting his third pack since breakfast, and the day was still young.

“First, you will wage war with the Zionists,” he began upon exhaling. “You will unleash your missile force. You will target civilian populations, beginning with hospitals and schools—but do not target Ben Gurion airport. Not yet. Not unless or until I say so. Am I clear?”

“Yes, General.”

“I hope so,” Entezam said. “Second, you will engage the Zionist ground forces as well. Your objective is to bog the Zionists down in the southern tier of the country, inflict as many casualties as possible, and show that criminal Reuven Eitan that he and his country are going to pay a very heavy price for violating the sovereignty of the Lebanese people. Got all that?”

“I do.”

“Good. One more thing.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you have hostages or not?”

“We are having trouble communicating with our unit,” Ja’far replied.

“How is that possible?”

“Apparently the Zionists are jamming all of our communications.”

“You still don’t know whether your men have taken anyone captive or not?”

“We believe they have, but we don’t have any details.”

“Get them,” Entezam snapped. “Quickly.”